Chapter 33 - Piper
THIRTY-THREE
PIPER
That evening was one of the hardest of my life. I’d thought the days of me pretending to be happy as I served Jacob and my boys dinner were over. I’d thought I was living life more honestly now, that I’d guarded myself against the mistakes I’d made before.
I was such a fool.
Jacob watched me through dinner, speaking to me and our boys as if nothing had changed.
When bedtime came and went, and I finally told Nate and Alec to go brush their teeth, Jacob walked with me to the front door.
He donned his jacket and shoes, then lingered by the door, eyes seeing more than I wanted him to.
“You look tired, Piper.”
I huffed. “Words every woman loves to hear.”
“I’m just saying. Are you sure you made the right decision by coming here?”
My jaw ached as I clenched it. “Goodnight, Jacob.” I opened the door for him. “I’ll have the boys ready for you to pick them up in the morning.”
“You could spend the day with us,” Jacob said. “Like old times.”
He stood in my house, looking dapper and innocent, promising a return to the past like he hadn’t been the main reason for my unhappiness. And, fool that I was, I’d gone and traded him for another version of the same thing.
This time, the man I’d fallen for didn’t try to keep me at home.
Not yet, anyway. But he had power over my employment, my housing, my life.
He positioned himself as the hero, driving me to the hospital, putting snow tires on my old car, tying my Christmas tree down for transport, supporting me at work, and all the other thousand things he’d done while muscling his way into every corner of my life.
Now, when he wasn’t happy with me, he turned the screws to make sure I felt the pressure. He wanted me to know he was in control.
I felt sick. I felt so stupid for falling for it again.
“Look, I don’t know how to say this, Piper, but…”
I blinked and met my ex-husband’s gaze. “But?”
His brows arched, sympathy written in every line of his expression. “I wanted to come up here, not just to see the boys, but to see how you were doing, too.”
I stiffened. “I see.” Moving closer to the door, I put my fingers on the handle and gave him a tight smile. “I’m fine.”
Jacob ignored my clear cue that it was time for him to leave.
“You don’t seem fine. And I get it. The divorce was tough on me too.
But you made your point, baby. Don’t you think it’s time for you to come home?
For us to be a family again? I know I wasn’t the best husband.
I worked way too much. But I’ll take more days off. I’ll be there. Just come home.”
A hot, hollow feeling filled my chest. I was glad my hand could grip the door handle, because the floor suddenly tilted under my feet.
Was he for fucking real?
He thought that this was, what? A tantrum? Me pouting so I could have my way because I wanted him to come home from work an hour earlier each day?
Jacob took a step toward me and crashed into the palm I lifted to block him. He had the gall to look hurt.
“Let me be very clear,” I said in a low voice, so very, very conscious that my boys were just upstairs.
“There’s no coming home for me. There are no days off or empty promises that will make me come scurrying back to your arms. I was alone in our marriage for years, Jacob.
My needs were pushed aside and glossed over.
The time to make changes was long, long before we went through with the divorce. ”
“You’re tearing our family apart,” he said, and a floorboard creaked upstairs. “This has gone far enough. Stop being so crazy, Piper. Be reasonable.”
Reasonable. He wanted me to be reasonable. I guessed to him, that meant becoming a shell of myself and dedicating my life to his happiness. It meant pretending I didn’t have thoughts and hopes and dreams and needs of my own. It meant always coming last.
I opened the door. “You’re not welcome in my home anymore. It’s time for you to leave.”
“You’re such a bitch, Piper,” he sneered. “I’m just trying to fix the thing you broke. I came all the way here—”
“To see your sons,” I finished for him. “And I’ll never stop you from doing that. Goodnight, Jacob.”
Snow drifted over the threshold on a gust of cold wind. Jacob stared at me, fury lighting his eyes with dark fire. I met his gaze and didn’t flinch.
I realized a change had occurred inside me. No part of me wanted to duck my head and cower. Never again would I make myself small to spare someone else’s feelings. I wouldn’t sacrifice my entire life and happiness just to act as a prop in a man’s perfect life.
I would, however, fall for the same old tricks while I wished for a perfect life of my own.
Jacob’s eyes shuttered, and a humorless smile curled his lips.
He put his hands up, surrendering. “Fine. You’re the boss.
” It was exactly the type of thing he’d say to me right before doing whatever the hell he wanted when we were married to each other.
We both knew I was never the boss, so his words were a subtle jab meant to hurt.
The blow glanced off me, missing its mark. Jacob huffed and stomped to his car. I closed and locked the door behind him before pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.
He would play the perfect father this weekend, and then I’d have to pick up the pieces when he left. I didn’t know how I’d find the strength for it this time, but I knew I would. I was worn down, raw, my chest cracked open to expose my heart. I’d changed, but it still hurt to be alone.
The boys stomped around upstairs, and I knew I couldn’t cry yet.
Not when they were awake and happy—and when they’d ask me too many difficult questions.
I locked my pain away just like I’d done for years, but this time felt harder.
The hurt spilled out around the edges, and I had to turn my head away from the boys’ view all through their bedtime routine as my bottom lip trembled or my eyes filled with tears.
Finally, Nate and Alec fell asleep. I crept downstairs and collapsed on the couch—the couch I’d moved in with Rhett’s help, into the living room he’d had repainted in the colors I chose.
Everywhere I looked, I saw the past months of my life, the hope and happiness I thought I could finally call my own.
A sob tore out of me, and I shoved a throw pillow against my face to muffle the noise.
The fabric dampened as my tears flowed, but I couldn’t get control over myself.
I was trapped. Everywhere I went, I made the same stupid mistakes.
I tried to be strong, to be independent, to put my boys first, and yet I kept falling for the charm and charisma of men who tossed me aside as soon as I dared ask for the smallest bit of grace or respect.
I felt so foolish and weak and pathetic.
My heart broke for the life I would never have—for the love that never existed.
I’d made up stories about Rhett, thinking he was the kind of good-hearted man who probably didn’t exist. When I divorced Jacob, I was ready for loneliness and hardship.
I was prepared to struggle as I made a life for myself.
I’d been ground down by years of a bad marriage, my life growing smaller and smaller and smaller.
This time hurt so much worse, because I saw the signs and ignored them. I couldn’t plead ignorance or call myself the victim. I should have learned my lesson, but instead I walked into the same predictable trap.
Rhett was no different from Jacob or any other man.
“Mom?”
I dropped the throw pillow from my face and looked over to see Alec hesitating at the far end of the couch. “Hi, baby.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I…” I shook my head, setting the pillow aside so I could spread my arms. “Don’t worry about me. Come here. You couldn’t sleep?”
My sensitive boy climbed up onto the couch and snuggled up next to me. I wrapped him in my arms and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, the world growing a little steadier beneath my feet.
“Did Dad make you sad again?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart ached. “Everything has just gotten to me today. I’ll be okay in the morning.”
“Why didn’t Mr. Baldwin stay for dinner?”
Alec always saw too much. I stroked his head and let out a long breath. “He had something else to do,” I replied. “He couldn’t stay.”
“Oh.” Alec was silent for a while, then pulled away to look up at me. “Are we going to stay here? I don’t want to move again.”
The strength that had gotten me through childbirth, countless sleepless nights, and all the challenges of motherhood kept me from bursting into tears at my son’s question. I let out a long breath and kissed his forehead. “I know, honey,” I murmured. “I don’t want to move again, either.”
We stayed there until Alec’s head began to nod. He was too heavy for me to carry him to bed, so I had to wake him up enough for him to stumble up the steps beside me. I tucked him in, kissed him goodnight, and tiptoed out of the room for the second time.
This time, I didn’t break down in tears. I was too raw and empty for that. I crawled into the bed where I’d imagined waking up next to Rhett every morning, and I slept.
The next day, Jacob came to pick up the boys bright and early, promising them a day of sledding, food, and fun.
He watched me warily in between playing the perfect dad.
I kissed the boys goodbye and waved them off, then got to work.
My head was eerily quiet as I prepped food for the week and caught up on laundry.
I didn’t let myself wallow, and I didn’t think of Rhett.
I moved on autopilot, picking up toys that had spread out from the boys’ room, shoveling the snow off the path and the driveway, and doing all the thousand and one tasks required to keep a home going.
A home we’d have to leave again in three months’ time.