Chapter 7
Paige
If there was anything sacred in my life, it was my day off.
No alarm. No bar. No customers were asking if we served food, even though they were holding a menu in their hands.
Just me in my leggings, mug of tea in hand, ignoring the sink full of dishes while pretending my house didn’t smell vaguely like a teenager’s gym bag and the stale onion rings from last night’s dinner.
It had been a little over two weeks since the confrontation with Eli, and I hadn’t yet heard from him; radio silence. Ren said things were okay—for now, anyway—though I knew better than to take “okay” at face value when it came to Eli. He was plotting something, I knew it.
Hunter hadn’t mentioned us going to dinner again, but he texted me every morning, just quick notes to check in.
I saw him on his brother nights at the bar, and we chit-chatted like we used to.
It felt like my life had slipped back to almost normal - but part of me didn’t like that.
Going back to how things were before wasn’t as comforting as I thought it would be.
Noah was home for the weekend, lounging on the couch, cocooned in an oversized hoodie, his bare feet sticking out from the edge of the old quilt he refused to let me throw away.
He’d outgrown it years ago and now used it more like a weighted comfort blanket than actual warmth.
He was on a break from culinary school, where he was learning how to make fancy sauces and sending me texts about knives I couldn’t afford to buy for him—not yet, anyway.
The girls were out, Lark was spending the night with a friend, and Briar was with Eli; it was his turn.
She said she’d be okay and promised to call me or Grandpa if she wanted to be picked up at any point.
Grandpa had become the de facto middleman between me and Eli.
He dropped them off and picked them up whenever it was Eli’s turn to spend time with them.
Briar and Lark had reassured me multiple times that they would tell me everything.
No more attempts to protect me from the truth.
I sat on the couch with my tea, feet propped on the ottoman, as the late evening sun slanted in through the blinds enough to warm the edge of the rug.
The living room was small and overstuffed—two faded armchairs, a too-squishy couch, and a crooked bookshelf filled with everything from classic novels to cookbooks to romance novels that seemed more like wishful thinking than reality.
The girls’ shoes were in a pile by the front door.
An empty mug and a hair tie sat on the windowsill.
A full laundry basket waited to be folded on the floor.
I needed to clean up, but I wasn’t going to waste this rare one-on-one time with my son by mentioning the dirty dishes or the fact that I had approximately seven hundred loads of laundry to do.
He was here. That was enough. Especially since I knew something was wrong. He hadn’t told me yet, but he would.
Then he sniffed, voice thick and rough. “She dumped me over text.”
My heart squeezed in a way I hadn’t expected. So that was it. He was hurting, and not just a little, but from a broken heart. My baby’s first real taste of heartbreak, and it was crushing to realize I couldn’t take this pain on for him.
“She didn’t even call?” I asked softly, my mind racing. How long had he been carrying this alone?
He shook his head, voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “Nope. Didn’t even have the decency.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She’s clearly blind,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“And stupid, too, because you’re amazing.
Honestly, she needs therapy and a serious reality check.
” He snorted, but the sound was watery, and a tear slid down the side of his nose.
I handed him a tissue without comment, giving him the dignity of not drawing attention to it.
For a minute, we just sat like that, the clock ticking softly in the kitchen, the house holding its breath.
“You have to say that,” he muttered. “You’re my mom.”
“No, I don’t. I could say nothing and just judge her in silence like a normal person.”
That got a weak smile out of him. He leaned against me on the couch, and I let him, resting my head lightly on his as I pulled him into my side.
It had been a long time since I’d been able to hold him like this, and I wasn’t going to be the one to end it.
I had almost forgotten how this felt, to hold my kids this way.
Like when they were my little babies and I had the power to solve all their problems with hugs and kisses.
“I feel like I’m dying,” he whispered. “My heart actually hurts.”
I kissed the top of his head, my heart breaking right along with his. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know this means nothing right now, but you’re going to be okay, I promise.”
He nodded against me, and I squeezed him tighter.
A long time ago, like a decade or more, I had felt this way about Eli.
How sad was it that I had felt nothing but relief when we divorced?
Nothing but resignation and the slight thrill of finally being free of him.
We’d married young, and almost immediately, I’d regretted it.
But before I could do anything about it, Noah was on the way.
“Want me to make you a grilled cheese? I’ll cut them into triangles like when you were little.” I asked, knowing he’d refuse, but I needed to offer it anyway.
He shook his head, wiped his face, and managed a shaky exhale. “Maybe later. Can I sit here with you for a while?”
“Always,” I said. I squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar ache of wanting to fix everything and knowing I couldn’t. So I just stayed, letting the silence hang, the sunset darkening the room a little more with every passing second.
My phone buzzed on the side table.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
I finally leaned over to check.
Hunter: Just checking in. You okay?
A small rush of warmth and reassurance washed over me. He always seemed to know when I needed a lifeline. It was as unnerving as it was soothing.
Then it rang.
I was ready to see Hunter’s name—but it wasn’t.
It was Ren calling.
I answered. “Please tell me this is about anything other than Eli.”
“Can’t,” he said, clipped and direct. “His attorney formally requested a meeting to discuss selling the house and reducing child support.”
I closed my eyes. “Of course they did.”
“I already responded,” he said, his tone sharpening. “I have a motion prepared challenging both. They’re going to have to fight for it. And trust me, they will lose.”
I stared at him in surprise. “Wait—you didn’t even call me first?”
“Paige, you hired me to protect you and your kids, not sit around and wait for Eli to do the decent thing. This is me doing that. And like I said before, no charge for family. I’m with Piper now, that makes you family.”
I paused, caught somewhere between startled and grateful.
He continued. “He’s claiming reduced income. I have my doubts about that based on the bank records we pulled during the divorce. I’m digging deeper and will have an answer for you soon. On a more personal note: I’d love to toss that motherfucker through a window.”
“He’s such a—” I glanced over at Noah and stopped myself. “Never mind.”
“You can say it. I called him worse during the divorce, remember?”
“Yeah. I owe you a lot.” I let out a slow breath. “Thanks, Ren.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. You’re doing everything you can to keep things stable. He’s the one trying to knock the whole thing over. We’re not letting him.”
That one hit me square in the chest. “I appreciate you.”
“Seriously,” he added. “Let me be ruthless. It’s my favorite part of the job. I love it.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m just tired of feeling like the punching bag.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re the one still standing.”
We hung up, and I set the phone back on the table. I leaned back into the couch and let my head fall against the cushion.
Noah was still staring at the ceiling.
“You ever wish you could just hit pause for like, a week?” I asked.
He snorted. “Try a year.”
I reached out and rubbed his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked. “I mean, with me gone. And Dad’s gone too. And that I’m not working with you at the bar anymore and—”
“Shh,” I cut him off. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You just concentrate on becoming the best chef in the world, okay? I’m good, I promise.”
“Why don’t I believe that?” He looked hurt.
I hesitated, rubbing circles into the fabric of his sleeve as I contemplated how much to tell him. He was an adult. He was a man now, and lying about things he already knew were happening was not right.
“I don’t know, Noah. Some days it feels like things are unraveling faster than I can tie them back up.” The room was quiet except for our breathing. I looked at the muted television, absently watching colors flicker across the screen.
Noah’s voice was softer now. “I get it. I felt that way when I caught him with her.”
“I hate that you saw that.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Sometimes I wish I knew how to make it easier for everyone. For you. For Lark. For Briar, you’re hurting so much because of this.”
Noah leaned against me. “Maybe we’re all just getting by for now. But that’s enough, isn’t it? We have each other, and he’s going to lose all of us if he doesn’t quit acting like an asshole. Not just you.”
I managed a smile, feeling a fragile sense of comfort settle between us.
For a moment, the world outside faded, and it was just us, quietly holding on.
When I first left Eli, I’d made a promise to myself never to say anything against him, but to always be there if the kids needed to unload.
I didn’t answer Noah, as I tried my best to keep it.
“Do you promise to call me if you need me?” He broke the silence. “I’m not a kid anymore, even though I was acting like a baby tonight.”