38. Lizzie
THIRTY-EIGHT
LIZZIE
The kids were coming back from their father’s place tomorrow, and as much as I’d enjoyed my days of solitude, I was ready to have them home again. I couldn’t wait to see Hazel’s beaming smile and Zach’s little side grin. I wanted to hear all about their weeks and give them tight hugs. I wanted the noise and chaos of having them in the house. I wouldn’t even mind Zach’s grumpy morning face if it meant I could hold him close.
My bath was halfway filled as I thought of my last phone call with them, when Hazel went into great detail to explain why her grandmother’s apple pie was nowhere near as good as mine. It was petty for me to be delighted, but I never claimed to be perfect. Isaac’s mother had never been a huge fan of me.
I trailed my fingers through the water to test the temperature, then went to the cabinet to check what bath oils I had. I’d opened so many old packages of “fancy” products lately that it felt like living in a Bath it was my brother Aaron. I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or relieved, so I just stood in the doorway and blinked at him.
“Hey,” Aaron said, rocking back onto his heels.
“Hi,” I replied.
“You, uh, good?”
I arched a brow. “I’m fine. Just running a bath.”
Aaron cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “You mind if I come in for a few minutes? I won’t be long, I promise.”
Last time I’d spoken to my brother, he’d yelled at me in front of our entire family. I would be well within my rights to slam the door in his face.
But as much as I missed my kids, I also missed my family. Usually, the days between Christmas and New Year’s would be spent lounging at my parents’ or brothers’ houses. Or having them here to fill the house with noise and laughter. I’d needed the time to myself—and I’d enjoyed it—but I wasn’t sure it was how I wanted to live. Not forever. There had to be a way to find a middle ground, if the rest of them were willing.
So, I opened the door wider and let him in.
Wrapped in my brand new, extra-fluffy bathrobe, I led Aaron to the living room and took a seat on the couch. He grabbed the seat on the far end of the sofa and leaned his elbows on his knees. I glanced at his profile, noting the smudges under his eyes and the grim line of his jaw.
“Sean came to see me yesterday,” he said.
“Ah.”
“We talked.”
“That’s good.”
Aaron looked over at me, then away. He gulped. “He, uh, mentioned you.”
Curiosity prickled, and I batted it back. I’d been very clear with Sean about what I wanted from him, and it hadn’t changed: nothing. I might want my kids at home and a mended relationship with my family, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that I’d find the perfect man to cherish me as well.
I could find balance in my life without giving my freedom to yet another man who wouldn’t have my back.
“I hadn’t realized that the two of you were…together.”
“We’re not,” I told him.
Aaron nodded. “Right. Right.” He spun his wedding ring around his finger and cleared his throat. “We missed you this week,” he blurted.
It was hard not to feel bitter. They missed me watching their kids while they enjoyed themselves, probably. They missed me doing all the dishes after dinner so they wouldn’t have to.
When I said nothing, Aaron let out a long sigh. “Lizzie, I’m sorry.”
Blinking, I turned to look at him. “For what?”
He spread his arms, looking helpless. “Where do I start? I haven’t—” He exhaled loudly. “I haven’t been a good brother to you. I’ve—I’ve walked all over you, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
I sat there, stiff as a board, trying to understand what, exactly, my brother meant. Finally, I replied, “Yes. You have.”
“And I’m not the only one.”
“No,” I agreed.
“I’ve relied on you for babysitting without even thinking about whether you’d want to do it. I thought—I told myself you loved kids and enjoyed it.”
“My life has revolved around kids for a long time,” I said. “I probably didn’t help myself.”
“But what option did you have?” Aaron looked at me, brows arched. “Sean told me we’ve been using you, and—God, it hurt when he said that. I didn’t want it to be true. But then I thought about everything you do… And then Mom told me you weren’t going to host New Year’s this year, and…”
“And?”
“And I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
It felt good to hear his apology, but a part of me still held back. It wasn’t lost on me that he was apologizing to me after realizing that I wouldn’t be taking on the hosting duties of yet another family party. Was he just apologizing so that things would go back to the way they were?
“I appreciate you saying that,” I replied, hesitating.
Aaron nodded. “Good. Good. Mom’s hosting New Year’s. Will you come?”
I stared into his eyes and waited for the right answer to present itself to me. The truth was, it would be easy to go to my mom’s house and slip into exactly the same role I’d held for so long. I could tell myself I was doing it for my kids, that I wanted them to spend the holiday with their extended family.
But that would be a lie.
If I said yes now and wiped the slate clean for my brother and the rest of my family, I’d be setting myself up for taking on so much more emotional labor. I would have to navigate a familiar party with familiar dynamics and figure out exactly how I fit into it when I wasn’t even sure what I wanted.
It was too soon.
“No,” I finally answered. “We’ll have a quiet New Year’s here, just me and the kids.”
Aaron’s shoulders dropped. “Right. Yeah. That’s fair.”
My bath was singing a siren song, and exhaustion was hurtling toward me while it did. “Was there anything else?” I asked, making moves as if to stand up.
“Yes,” Aaron blurted.
I froze.
He angled himself toward me, lacing his hands together as he leaned on his thighs. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you, Lizzie. I shouldn’t have blown up like that.”
When my brother met my gaze, the exhaustion finally hit. I slumped against the sofa and nodded. I wanted to forgive him, to wave a hand and tell him everything was okay. The problem was, I wasn’t sure it was true—and I was done protecting everyone else’s feelings at the expense of my own.
“You humiliated me,” I told him. “You blamed me for the kiss, even though Sean was just as much there as I was.”
“You’re my sister, Lizzie?—”
“And?”
He snapped his mouth shut. Dipped his chin.
“Sean has been divorced half the length of time that I have, and you all jumped on him to start dating again. Why has no one ever asked me? Encouraged me? Why hasn’t a single one of you wondered about me ?”
Aaron looked torn. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Lizzie.”
“It’s because you just see me as the kids’ mom, Aaron. It’s because I’m not really a person to you. I’m just a helpful side character.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I took a deep breath and let my anger dissipate. Aaron wasn’t the only one to blame. He’d acted like an ass, yes. But I was the one who’d contorted myself to fit a box that was convenient for everyone else. I was the one who’d lost my spine, my confidence, my self. I was the one who accepted the roles that were thrust upon me.
Could I blame Aaron or the rest of my family when they accepted that at face value? When I never fought back?
“Thank you for apologizing,” I told him. “I appreciate it. I just—I need some time.”
Aaron nodded. “Sure. Yeah. You want me to take the kids one of these days? I probably owe you a year’s worth of babysitting.”
A knot untied itself in my heart, and I felt my lips curl into a smile. “A bit more than a year, I’d say.”
Aaron huffed. “Probably, yeah.”
“No more last-minute favors so you can go hang at the bar with your buddies.”
He dropped his gaze. “No.”
“No more making me cook everything for an event you’re hosting.”
His lips pinched. “We really did that, didn’t we?”
“Yes. Over and over again. And if I ask you to save me some stuffing, you save me some damn stuffing. All right?”
My brother lifted his gaze to mine, and I saw real remorse in his gaze. He nodded. “All right,” he agreed.
“And no more sending Mom my way to make me apologize to you.”
Aaron’s brows slammed together. “What?”
“She called me. Said I should just let it go and beg for your forgiveness, and did I need anything for the party on New Year’s?”
My brother’s gaze dropped. It looked like the same wave of exhaustion that had hit me was now landing on him. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Thank you. And in exchange, I promise to tell you when you’re asking too much.”
He sighed his relief. “That would be helpful.”
“And if I want to start dating again, you don’t get to say a single word about it except to tell me I look great and you’ll be happy to watch my kids for the evening.”
He was silent for a beat, eyes lifting to meet mine. “Do you? Want to start dating again?”
Not really, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. This was the new me, stiff spine and all. So I just lifted my chin and gave him an arch look. “That’s up to me to decide,” I said, and Aaron’s lips curled into a grin.
“Understood.”
We got up and I walked him to the door. When my brother wrapped me in a tight hug, I hugged him back.
“Love ya,” he said, squeezing my shoulders as he pulled away. “I know we don’t say that to each other all that often, but I do.”
My eyes prickled. “Love you too, Aaron.”
“You sure you don’t want to stop by for New Years? The countdown, at least?”
“I’m sure,” I told him firmly.
He nodded. “If you change your mind, just show up. No need to give us advance warning. The door’ll be unlocked.”
When I thanked him, I did it through a tight throat. Locking the door behind my brother, I let out a long sigh, then climbed the stairs and started the bath again. A few minutes later, I slipped into the warm, lavender-scented water and felt every muscle in my body relax.
I could do this. I could rewrite my relationships with my family, no matter how difficult it would be. I could carve out some space and time for myself when I needed it. I could be more than Zach’s and Hazel’s mom. I was more than Zach’s and Hazel’s mom.
It made me feel strong and in control when the resolve snapped into place inside me, but there was a small corner of my heart where sadness still resided. That sadness curled around an old wound—the one that split open every time I realized I was on my own.
I’d love to have my own knight in shining armor. I’d love to feel protected and supported, to have someone at my back when things became difficult.
Rewriting my relationships with my family would be difficult. Taking time for myself would be difficult. Finding all the parts of myself that I’d let wither away would be a constant challenge. But I’d do it, and I’d do it on my own—because that’s what needed to be done.
The old wound pulsed, and the sadness inside me contracted painfully. But what choice did I have?
It was either grow into a new version of myself, or accept the scraps of everyone’s attention. There would be no knight riding to my rescue on a white horse. The past weeks had been a manic haze of giddiness, lust, and fantasy, and it was time for me to come back down to reality.
I would be my own knight in shining armor, because that’s what I needed to be.