Chapter Five
Maggie
Ihad always had a switch in me that I could flick on and off at will.
At home, my life could be falling apart—my emotions a wreck, my heart shattered—but the second I stepped into the office? I had a goal. A purpose. I didn’t have time to lose focus, so I learned to just… turn the rest off.
Besides, what my clients had going on in their lives was usually enough to put things into perspective for me.
“I don’t know what to do,” Mr. Reilly said, appearing in my office more disheveled than the time before. “It’s been a month and she won’t answer my calls or texts. I’m going out of my mind here.”
“I understand,” I told him, “but you’ve been doing everything right. You signed up for therapy, right?”
He nodded in confirmation.
“And I filed a petition for emergency visitation rights—”
“You did?” He leaned forward eagerly. “What does that mean? Can I see my kids?”
“We still have to wait for court approval, but it could come through within the next few days given your clean record.”
He nodded, following along.
“And what if they deny me?”
“Then we’ll at least get a hearing scheduled, and Mrs. Reilly will be required to show up and explain herself. And trust me, it’ll look worse for her that she’s denying you visitation without a solid reason.”
“But…” He chewed his lip. “What happens when she tells them what I did? Will that affect things because I—because I cheated?”
“It depends on the judge,” I said, trying to be as honest as possible, “but most of them try to do what’s in the best interest of the children. And I think any reasonable person would agree that having their father around is in their best interest.”
He dropped his head in his hands, fingers working to rub out the crease in his forehead.
“They’re not going to understand why I haven’t been there,” he said, voice raspy as he tugged off his Red Sox cap. “They’re going to hate me.”
“I don’t think it’s possible for a kid to hate their parent. They just want to be loved.” I offered him a smile. “And it sounds like you do pretty good in that category.”
He gave me a half-hearted, weary smile.
“When you have kids,” he said, “loving them is the easiest thing in the world.”
I didn’t understand why his words sent a pang through my chest.
Driving through Chestnut Hill always made me nostalgic. It wasn’t just the backdrop to where I studied and graduated college, but it was the place I figured out who I was. What I wanted to do with my life.
I went into Boston College as a party girl with an undeclared major, not taking any of it very seriously. But somewhere along drinking at parties and staying up till four a.m. for most of freshman year, I grew up.
It happened gradually.
Something in a class spiked my interest, or a character’s coming-of-age arc in a movie stuck with me, and suddenly I was forming all these opinions about the world—uncovering different layers of myself I’d never had the space to think about before.
I thought about my dad a lot that first year of college. Especially when it was mostly fathers helping their kids move into their dorms. It was hard not to be jealous. It hurt more knowing that mine was alive out there.
At least if he were dead, I wouldn’t have to carry the weight of him actively choosing not to be part of my life.
Which, as it turned out, was heavier than you might think.
I guess subconsciously he was the reason I chose the career I did. If my family had to be broken up, then I wanted to at least be part of putting others back together.
And maybe I thought I could figure out where ours went wrong along the way.
But even more saccharine than college being the place I quote-on-quote found myself—it just so happened to be the place I found something else just as important to my life: Cassie—the girl who I never dreamed would become my sister.
And apparently, she had a soft spot for Chestnut Hill, too, considering it’s the neighborhood she and my brother decided to buy their forever home in.
Their words, not mine.
Personally, I thought that whole concept was kind of bizarre. I mean, forever home? Who cares if you get sick of it in five years and want to move? Why tie yourself down to one spot?
But, admittedly, the house they picked was pretty impressive. Definitely warranted at least a couple decades here at the least.
As I drove into their obscenely long driveway leading up to their brick mansion… ahem, house, I realized I probably should’ve called to make sure she was home.
I hadn’t thought. I just knew I needed to see her. Talk to her. She had this magic power of quieting my mind when it felt like it was about to explode.
But, to my dismay, I didn’t see her car in the driveway. Only my brother’s. And while we’d gotten a lot closer over the last few years, I sure as hell didn’t want to tell him what was going on in my screwed-up head.
There were some things we just didn’t see eye to eye on. And the topic plaguing my thoughts was one of them.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to wait with him instead of sitting on the steps like a stray cat waiting for Cassie to get home.
Climbing out of my car, I made the trek up to their front door, reflecting on how Liam had managed to find the most private fortress in all of Massachusetts to call home.
Their yard was surrounded by trees and huge fences, reminding me that despite being married for a few years, he still had his fair share of stalker fans. While they typically weren’t deranged enough to show up at his house, I knew Liam wasn’t taking any chances—especially with Lily to think of.
As I got to the door, I closed my knuckles into a fist, preparing to knock.
A new habit for me in regard to my brother—but unfortunately, my days of kicking down Liam’s door had become a thing of the past. Since he upgraded to a big-boy home, I had to upgrade to a bit of civility. Even if it was less fun.
I raised my hand to knock, but Liam was already opening it before I even got the chance.
“Wow, you’re good,” I raised my brows. “You have, like, some type of Spidey-sister sense.”
“I also have a Ring,” he said, gesturing to the phone in his hand, opened to a live camera showing me standing on his doorstep.
I laughed.
“That’s such an old-person thing to have,” I said with an eye roll, stepping past him into the house.
Despite its overwhelming size, they’d somehow made it homey—a task I thought impossible considering I was quite content in the four walls of my studio apartment.
But maybe it was hard not to feel like you were in a home when there were such signs of life everywhere. Cassie’s colorful jackets and scarves on the hooks, Lily’s tutus draped across the stair railings. Liam’s hockey duffel halfway unzipped in the front hall.
It wasn’t messy, but it was definitely lived in.
“Where’s Cassie?” I looked around, stepping over a stray ballet slipper.
“She’s out with Lily,” Liam said, following me as I made my way into the kitchen. “Why?”
“I need her for a few hours.”
“Trying to steal my wife?” he asked.
“Actually, I could make the claim that you stole her from me.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a snort. “Not sorry about it though.”
“Clearly,” I rolled my eyes, not bothering to tell him that I wasn’t either.
It made it easier on me having two of my people in the same house. Saved money on gas that way, too.
Plopping down on one of their swivel chairs by the kitchen island, I stared at Liam as he leaned against the stove across from me.
“So?” he said.
“So?” I asked back.
“Anything you want to talk about, or is this just a random visit?”
“Geez,” I said in an exaggerated huff. “What happened to ‘stop by anytime?’”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just asking—”
“Yes?”
“If you wanted to talk about anything.”
“I do.” I nodded.
“Okay—”
“With Cassie.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Happy to know I’m useless to you,” he muttered, and I did actually feel a little bad about it.
But like I said, he just wouldn’t understand where I was coming from. My issues with my dad were decidedly different than Liam’s with the same man. Because even though we had the same circumstances, it’s like we viewed the situation through entirely different lenses.
I shifted uncomfortably away from the feeling, not knowing how to tell him that. Instead, I looked around the room, letting my eyes fall on the huge collage of pictures of their family throughout the
years.
Liam and Cassie’s wedding. Their honeymoon. When Lily was born. The three of them on trips. It was like an all-encompassing testament to their love.
But I knew they were no different than any other family in the early stages of life. How did so many marriages break apart? How did so many families just like Liam and Cassie’s shatter? Didn’t the parents want to stick it out for their kids’ sake?
Would Liam and Cassie, if it got to that point?
“You love Lily a lot, huh?” I asked him, turning my attention away from the photos.
“My daughter?” He shot me an incredulous look. “Yeah, I’d say I like her a pretty good amount.”
“You’d be so sad if Cassie wouldn’t let you see her,” I remarked sadly, thinking of what Mr. Reilly was going through.
I tried to picture it. Cassie taking Lily and leaving. Ignoring Liam’s calls. Liam going out of his mind in this big house all by himself while his family was just out of reach.
“What?” Liam’s eyes widened.
“I just meant that it must be hard on dads when they can’t see their kids.”
“What the hell, Mags? What’s going on?”
“Do you think if you and Cassie got divorced that you’d be able to co-parent peacefully?”
“We wouldn’t get divorced,” he said with a resolute expression.
“I mean, hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically, we wouldn’t get divorced.”
“Never mind,” I swatted him away. “You’re no help.”
Just as Liam was about to mutter something back, we heard the front door open and the sound of Lily’s rambling fill the house.
“I’m sorry we had to leave the store, Mommy, but I really was getting hungry.”