Chapter 4
Chapter Four
A shley Wilson Hamilton stood in the doorway in a knee-length patterned dress, with a multi-colored shawl draped over it and a brightly colored scarf wrapped around her neck. She shifted from one foot to the other, slipped on her gray ballet flats, and then gave Amy another sidelong look.
Amy ate another spoonful of her oatmeal and twisted in her seat to give her a small smile. “I really am fine.”
“I won’t be gone long,” Ashley added with another quick look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find someone else to run these errands.”
Amy waved her comment away and stood. “It’s really fine. I can keep myself company.”
Amy already appreciated everything Ashley had done for her, from taking her on a tour the day after her arrival at Provincetown to taking her in while Ben and Lily renovated the beach house.
Ashley was a godsend, and Amy didn’t want her to feel like she was taking advantage, especially when friendship and a sense of camaraderie had blossomed between them.
They were, after all, both housewives who had dedicated their lives to their husbands and kids, but Amy was sometimes painfully aware of the fact that was where the similarities ended. Where Amy’s life had been a series of high-end parties and a revolving door of household staff meant to help her keep everything in spick-and-span order, Ashley’s life couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried.
Over the past few days, Amy had gotten to know more and more about the woman she’d befriended, who had taken a keen interest in her, and everything she learned only made her like Lily’s aunt even more.
Ashley’s home was a place of laughter, love, chaos, and clutter.
It was the exact opposite of what Eric allowed.
And it was a refreshing change for Amy, who’d nearly burst into tears after breaking a glass cup the other day. For a long moment, she’d stood there, waiting for the verbal lashing that never came. In the end, it was the sight of Ashley using a broom and dustpan to sweep up the mess that had snapped her out of her reverie. Afterward, when Ashley made it a point to check on Amy, tears had sprung to the latter’s eyes.
How had she allowed herself to get used to such cruelty and dismissiveness?
And why had she stayed with Eric for so long?
In the beginning, it was easy to convince herself it was for the kids, but as time went on, it got harder and harder to leave him. A part of her suspected it was Eric’s plan all along: to erase any and all semblance of a spirit within her, and he’d almost succeeded too. If it hadn’t been for Lily’s bravery and her continued insistence on maintaining contact, Amy had no idea what she would’ve done.
She suspected she still would be trapped in her luxurious and lonely life, praying and hoping for a miracle.
With a slight shake of her head, Amy dragged herself back to the present with a jolt. Ashley was on the phone now, gesturing furiously as she did. She offered Amy another apologetic smile and stepped out, letting the door click shut behind her. Unlike all of those times Amy was left alone, the silence in Ashley and Jude’s house didn’t bother her.
If anything, she welcomed it because it felt wholly and completely different.
Amy paused to wash her bowl and spoon, and while she waited for the kettle to boil, she wandered around the cottage, picking up and setting down several items as she did. Eventually, she made her way back to the kitchen to sip on her chamomile tea. As she did, she looked out the main window of the kitchen, which offered a side view of the lush green lawn.
Smiling, Amy finished the rest of her tea, and after rinsing her cup, she set it out to dry. In her room, she changed into a pair of dark wide-leg pants and a long, short-sleeved tunic. Then, she slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable black sneakers and stuffed her phone, wallet, and keys into the first purse she got her hands on.
Outside, there was a sharp wind that made her dart back inside for a coat.
Amy had a spring in her step as she set off at a brisk pace, shoes light and soundless against the pavement. She walked past rows and rows of two-story Victorian-style houses that eventually gave way to shops with glass display windows featuring treats, mannequins in shorts and T-shirts, and handmade jewelry. Many of the residents had bright smiles on their faces, and a few were mid-laugh—like they didn’t have a care in the world.
She knew she could never be like them—too much had happened—but she wanted to soak up as much of the positive energy as possible.
So, she wove in and out of the groups of people, pausing only to fish her phone out and dial Sylvie. On the fifth ring, it went to voicemail. With a frown, Amy called Lucas, who answered on the last ring, sounding out of breath and distracted. His voice was distorted and garbled before the line went dead, and she couldn’t get him back on the phone.
Standing in the middle of the street, Amy wondered what she was meant to do next. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have her entire day mapped out, and she didn’t have Eric in the background to make her feel how useless and unproductive it was to do nothing.
After a quick glance around, her eyes lingered on the cursive neon sign out front, and when she drew closer, the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and flour wafted out, making her stomach grumble in protest.
It had been years since she’d indulged in any kind of baked treats, knowing full well that Eric liked her to maintain a certain look.
With a determined set of her shoulders, Amy pushed the door open, pleased when she didn’t find a line leading to the cash register. On either side of her, there were red vinyl booths, picture frames on the cream-colored walls, and smooth jazz music playing through the speakers. Amy only had a few seconds to study the glass display of goodies before she found herself standing in front of a brown-haired woman with wisps of curly hair escaping from her bun and a pair of tight hazel eyes.
“Hi, welcome to Decadent Treats. How can I help you?”
Amy glanced at the glass display and back at the woman. “Good morning. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t actually know what to get.”
The woman gave her an understanding smile. “It’s your first time?”
Amy cleared her throat. “Not only that, but I haven’t had anything sweet in years. My husband didn’t think it was right to…well, you know.”
The woman’s smile turned gentle. “He’s not here right now, is he?”
“God, no. He wouldn’t be caught dead in a town like this; no offense.”
“So, help yourself to whatever you like. I can recommend the cream and strawberry croissant or the oatmeal blueberry muffins.”
Amy’s stomach grumbled in response. “I don’t know if I can choose. They both sound delicious.”
“Why not have both?”
Amy shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s a little excessive; I don’t know.”
The woman motioned to her, and Amy stepped away from the register and in the direction of the display. With a smile, the woman slid the glass door open and snapped on a pair of gloves. She picked up a pair of tongs and made a sweeping hand gesture.
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
Ice settled in Amy’s veins. She inched back and was getting ready to bolt out the door, afraid Eric wasn’t far behind, when she peered closer. A heartbeat later, a burst of relief surged through Amy, and she sagged with recognition.
“You’re Ashley’s daughter and Lily’s cousin,” Amy realized, some of the knots in her stomach unfurling. “I think we met at Herring Cove, and we’ve seen each other a few times since them. I’m sorry… I can be really bad with faces and names. Emily, right?”
Emily’s face lit up. “That’s right! I thought I recognized you too, but it’s been such a hectic day… It’s nice to see you again, Amy.”
“You too.”
Emily reached for a muffin and placed it on a tray. “How are you liking Falmouth so far?”
“I’ve never been anywhere like it,” Amy admitted with a grimace. “Then again, it’s not like I’ve been to a lot of places, so I can’t really judge.”
She’d always meant to see the world, but life had gotten in the way.
In the form of a controlling, domineering, and impossible-to-please husband.
Emily reached for the croissant and set it down carefully, leaving some space between both pastries. “I know what you mean. I did a little bit of traveling when I graduated college, but then I met my husband, and we ended up back here. And once we had kids, that dream was pretty much over.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Emily glanced up and shook her head. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve had a great life. I can’t complain. Things just didn’t end up working out the way I thought they would; you know what I mean?”
Amy sighed. “Tell me about it. I didn’t expect to be seventy-one and starting over in a strange town, but here I am.”
Comprehension dawned on Emily’s face as her eyes lit up, and her smile turned understanding. She reached over and handed Amy the tray. “Starting over can be hard.”
Amy held the tray with both hands. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
Emily stepped out from behind the counter, revealing a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves. She gestured to one of the empty booths near the windows. Together, the two of them sat down opposite each other, with Emily pausing to untie the apron from around her neck. She draped it over the counter and perched on the edge of the booth, eyeing Amy intently.
As if she was trying to figure her out.
But Amy found that she didn’t mind the younger woman’s gaze.
Emily leaned back and linked her fingers together. “I lost my husband a few years ago, and to say I’ve been struggling has been an understatement.”
Amy’s stomach dipped as she tore off a piece of her warm croissant. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Emily shrugged. “People never know what to say. It used to frustrate me in the beginning because I wanted someone to understand. I really wanted someone who got what it felt like to have your whole world turned upside down.”
Amy’s chest tightened at the pain in Emily’s voice. “What did you do?”
Emily blinked, and a shadow settled over her face. “I joined a support group. I don’t always want to go, but it’s been…really helpful.”
Amy looked away and down at her plate. “Maybe I should join a support group. Do they have any around for women who are separated from their husbands?”
Emily nodded a little too eagerly. “Our support group is for everyone who’s lost someone they loved. Whether it’s because of a breakup, divorce, death.”
Amy sat up straighter. “That’s…a lot.”
Emily’s expression shifted and grew softer. “I know it sounds like a lot, and I’ll admit the first few times were hard, but you get used to it. And once you find a rhythm, you’ll even look forward to it.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t know… I’m not even sure what’s going to happen between Eric and me.”
Emily’s gaze didn’t waver. “Are you going to go back?”
Amy shoved the rest of the croissant into her mouth while she thought of an answer. On the one hand, she relished being a woman who was in control of her own destiny and her own life. On the other hand, she had no idea if she was strong enough to stay away, especially when it was the only life she’d ever known.
The comfort of the familiar beckoned to her.
And there were times when Eric seemed to know exactly where to dig the knife in to get her to reconsider. Thankfully, between spending time with Lily, taking long walks to invigorate herself, and looking up classes online, Amy tried to keep herself busy. But every night, when she got into bed, there were dozens of emails from Eric, all of them with a wide array of insults and a few of them offering glimpses of the man who’d gotten her to fall in love with him.
To turn her entire world upside down for him.
He knew exactly what he was doing, and she was ashamed to find her defenses weakening.
The longer she went without Eric, the easier she knew it would be.
But without even her children to help her feel tethered, it was a struggle.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Emily added hastily and after a brief pause. “I’m sorry. Please feel free to ignore my question, obviously.”
Amy finished chewing and swallowed, the rich flavors still dancing on the tip of her tongue. “Oh, I don’t mind. I honestly don’t know if I’m going to go back or not. I know I shouldn’t, and a lot of people are telling me I shouldn’t, but…”
“It’s your decision anyway,” Emily offered with another gentle smile. “I’m sure you’ll make the best decision for yourself, regardless.”
Amy blew out a breath, suddenly feeling tired. “I really hope so.”
Emily glanced at something over Amy’s head and stood. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Amy, and I really hope you stop by the support group.”
Amy drew her bottom lip between her teeth and began to chew. “Where’s it going to be?”
“Basement of the old church. It’s a few blocks from here. You can’t miss it. We meet once a week on Thursdays at eight.”
Amy stopped chewing on her bottom lip and sat up straighter. “I’ll definitely think about it.”
Emily gave her shoulder a quick squeeze on the way past. “Please do. I’ll see you later.”
With that, she hurried off. Amy saw her step back behind the counter, pausing to tie the apron back around her neck. For a while, she glanced between her half-eaten treats and the register, turning the matter over and over in her head. While a part of her wasn’t ready to admit defeat after years of pouring her blood, sweat, and tears into her marriage, the other part of her knew she couldn’t hold on anymore.
Not when there was nothing worth holding on to.
Eric wasn’t going to change, and her children weren’t children anymore.
Lucas and Sylvie didn’t need her, and they hadn’t for a long time. Not only did they each have their own lives to attend to, but they’d also made it clear there was very little room for her in their lives, and it wasn’t out of cruelty or malice. Neither of them understood how truly difficult her life was or how lonely the past few decades had been.
And she intended to keep it that way because it wasn’t their burden to carry.
Nor was it ever going to be.
Regardless of whether she chose to make her separation from Eric more permanent, she wasn’t going to let it taint her relationship with her children. She hadn’t suffered in silence for all of those years just to falter at the finish line.
With a determined nod, Amy finished the rest of her treats and paused to retrieve a bottle of water and pay Emily for the order.
On her way out of the bakery, the two women exchanged another understanding look. As Amy wandered back in the direction of Ashley’s house, she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d accomplished something great today. In all of her time playing house with Eric and rubbing elbows with the rich, influential, and beautiful people of the city, Amy had never once found solace among them.
Or anything even closely resembling a friendship.
By now, all of them would’ve heard of her stunt, with Eric working double-time to make her into a devious and callous woman with no regard for his feelings or those of their children. Amy knew most of the wives wouldn’t hesitate to bad-mouth her, but she had a feeling a small portion of them envied her.
She had done the unthinkable, and they were still rooted to the spot.
Even though she had no idea what her next move was or what her life was meant to look like moving forward, at least she was going to be the one calling the shots.
It was about time too.