15
Maeve
I know I sound like a child. I’m fully aware of how juvenile it sounds when I tell everyone that I was in my late twenties when I slept over alone for the very first time in my own house. But it was absolutely terrifying, and I wasn’t sure how much sleeping was actually done, but I did it. Sort of. So what if I spent most of the night curled up on the couch watching HGTV reruns and then passed out for a couple of hours snuggled up to one of Christian’s shirts that I definitely didn’t steal from his closet?
His room was unlocked, so sue me. I somehow survived the night from the invisible boogeyman and everything I did to make it through. No one would ever even know about it because I wore my big girl panties and did it all on my own. That was the definition of a true independent woman.
Christian never came home. I figured as much when I saw the bag he had slung over his shoulder. I kissed him, and he couldn’t get out of here fast enough after our friends left. It was pretty fucking obvious where he stood in terms of our incident. Similarly, I felt like a damn fool for thinking he was different. Somehow reading our signals wrong, I was stupid for even thinking there was anything else besides a friend helping me out. Because that was all we had to be from this point forward. That was it for me after Christian decided to walk out on me, especially knowing it was my first night here. A big-ass wall had formed between my true feelings toward him and what I needed us to be, which was friends—simply and only friends.
Fuck him. Because all men were the same, or at least the ones who got into relationships with me. They were useless and unsupportive assholes. Maybe I watched too many romance movies growing up or read the girls too many fairy tales, but there had to be someone out there who just supported me unconditionally as an equal partner. With no ifs, ands, or buts, just true, genuine comfort and support. Between my horribly shitty ex-husband and Christian, most men who were intimately involved in my life in some way walked out when life got tough. Quite literally they jumped in bed with someone else, so it was simple to deduce that the reason was their repulsion toward me.
Ugh.
I needed to swim. If this was my damn house too, then I had to start feeling at home. Maybe if I convinced myself mentally, the physical comfort of being here would come later. I grabbed the tiniest bikini I owned, the one that always turned heads when I hit the beach with the girls. Hell, it was the very one Tyler once told me to cover up, saying it messed with my image as a proper mother. I never had the guts to wear it before, but now that I had my own pool and Christian wasn't around, screw it, I was gonna rock it today in an attempt to feel more comfortable and confident.
The bikini was this light blue thong with teeny tiny triangles up front. I checked myself out in the mirror, and damn, I loved what I saw. It was a rare moment when I actually felt like myself, just Maeve, not just a mom, an employee, a friend, or a daughter.
Snagging a towel, I headed out to the pool. It was a gorgeous sunny day, warm and inviting. It was my last day before I had to return to work and somehow manage childcare pickup from the girl’s school. There was obviously no booze in the house, and I wanted to respect Christian enough, even though he was on my shit list, so I grabbed one of his alcohol-free seltzers and jumped immediately into the pool.
It was something I hadn't quite grasped before. I had to learn to be alright with being on my own. Man, I was so sick of constantly doubting myself and feeling like I lacked the strength and confidence. Maybe rocking that bikini was a way of embracing this whole new version of myself. At the end of the day, I was simply the girl who found herself sitting alone at night in a hauntingly silent house, worn out from a day of taking care of the girls all by myself, struggling to make ends meet, and desperately trying to maintain some semblance of a social life. Being alone sucked. Being exhausted and lonely was worse.