Tree Trimming & Truces
Chapter fifty-seven
Eslin
Marlow has been on calls for the better part of the day, strategizing, pacing, snapping at people on speakerphone, then snapping at no one in particular.
And even though she won’t look at me or speak to me, I still make sure she’s comfortable—keep her fed, press a glass of water into her hand, even prop her feet up on a pillow when she finally sinks onto the couch.
She kicked me once for trying, but I’ll take it.
I guess that’s what they mean when they say, love hurts.
After I’m sure she’s as relaxed as she can be, given the circumstances, I step back and let her breathe without me hovering like a mama bear.
That’s when I notice Grant, lugging a box of Christmas decorations into the great room and I walk over to him. “Whatcha doin’, Mister?” I tease, folding my arms.
He flashes me that grin that still melts me and leans down to press a kiss to my lips. Instinctively, I pull back, glancing over my shoulder.
“Uh, the cat is absolutely out of that bag, honey. Kiss me.” His voice is low, playful, insistent. And then his arms are around my waist, tugging me flush against him before kissing me properly.
From the couch, Marlow makes exaggerated gagging noises. “Fucking gross!” she hisses, slamming a few keys on her laptop before returning her attention to the screen.
Grant chuckles, finally letting me go, and gestures to the open box. “Well, before we were barged in on, I had this plan for us to put up Christmas decorations. Just me and you. Start a tradition, maybe?”
The thought tugs at something warm in me, and I lean in for another kiss. He thought of everything that would make me feel special this weekend.
“I’d like that a lot. But…right now, the Christmas spirit feels a little lost. At least while…” I tilt my head subtly toward Marlow, not daring to say her name outright. “She’s still mad at me. Jolly and cheer won’t feel right until we’re right. My stand-in.”
Grant frowns, puzzled. “Your what?”
I shake my head quickly, brushing it off. “Nevermind.”
That’s the thing about my relationship with Marlow.
While Grant and I have spent the last six months fighting every damn feeling clawing its way to the surface, Marlow and I were building something else.
A collection of secrets, inside jokes, nicknames for our dysfunctional little friend-group—my stand-ins.
Her and Tatum became family, in every sense that ever mattered.
And now, because I’ve never had this before, because I’ve never been allowed this kind of belonging, something inside me feels like it’s splitting open. Like I’m the most selfish woman alive for choosing a man over my best friend. For choosing my happiness while hers is crumbling.
I glance out the window, spotting Declan on the dock, hands in his pockets, staring out at the water.
I turn back to Grant. “I’m going to go talk to Declan, alright?”
Grant pulls me close, presses his forehead to mine, grounding me. “She’s going to be fine. I know my girl. She’s stubborn and feisty and her feelings are hurt. But she’ll come around. You just have to give her time.”
I shake my head, resolve already knotting in my chest. “I don’t like the idea of letting time pass where hurt festers. I’ll get through to her. You just wait.”
Grant laughs and drops a kiss to my temple. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And if her eyes turn red, just duck. She throws things.”
I can’t help but laugh with him, the sound easing the weight for just a moment. Then I pull away and head outside, the chill in the air biting at my skin as I make my way toward Declan standing alone by the lake.
“Hey, Declan. How are you? How are you holding up?”
He shrugs, casual as ever. “This is all media drama. I guess it’ll blow over, right? I mean, I know Marlow’s worried. But I don’t understand what the big deal is. At least it’s out in the open. We don’t have to hide anymore.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, then sigh. “Okay, so, I’m going to drop my professional hat so I can speak as truthfully as I know how.”
Declan nods, attention still on the water. “Okay.”
“Declan, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. But you’re a boy and you’re pretty, so I’ll give you a pass.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“Exactly,” I tell him. “This entire time, Marlow has been screaming about her image, about not being taken seriously as a woman in this field. It had nothing to do with you—or not taking things public—not specifically. It was always about protecting something men never have people question in her same position! Her respect. Her dignity. And now, her damn career.”
Declan’s shoulders dip, a rare humility in his expression. “I guess I lost sight of that.”
“You think?”
“How do we fix it?”
I shake my head, helpless. “That’s exactly what we’re all trying to figure out. I just wish your wife would talk to me.”
That’s when he smirks. “Yeah, my wife is stubborn, I’ve learned. Whenever my brother and I were fighting, my nonna would lock us in a bedroom and make us stay there until we came out best friends again. Brothers.”
A grin tugs at my lips. “Declan, I knew I liked you for my girl Marlow!”
Then I slap the man on the back and head back into the house.
***
When Marlow finally hangs up after another brutal round with her lawyers and PR team, I don’t give her a chance to escape. I catch her arm, drag her straight into the study, and shut the door with a sharp click before locking it.
“What the hell, Es?” she snaps.
“We’re doing this,” I say firmly, planting myself in front of the door. “We’re talking.”
“Talking! You want to talk? Fine. I’ve got a lot to say!”
I nod, bracing myself for every word I know is coming, every sting I probably deserve. “Say it, Low. Say whatever you need to.” I gesture toward the massive sectional in the study, and we sit—across from each other, opposite sides, like rivals instead of family.
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Silence and tears. Hers and mine.
“I don’t cry. I don’t let shit get to me,” Marlow starts, her voice breaking. “But these fucking baby hormones have me acting delirious!”
I bite back a laugh, though something about the mention of her baby pulls at my chest in a way I can’t name. So I just give her a soft smile.
“But also,” she goes on, “I’ve never let anyone this close to hurt me, Es. I loved you even before I loved Declan. And this betrayal cut me more than I ever thought possible.”
My throat aches. “I’m so sorry, Low.”
“And I hate that I let you call me that,” she snaps, her words slicing clean. “Because that’s always been reserved for family.”
I bow my head, because that one…even though I knew she’d say some hurtful things, that one hurt deeper than I expected.
Her voice softens a fraction. “I’m sorry. I know I’m saying everything that comes to mind without a filter and I sort of don’t care if it hurts.”
I laugh through my own snot and tears. “Then why are you apologizing?”
She smiles through tears but it’s a painful one. “Because I fucking love you! And even though I am mad as hell at you, you don’t deserve my venom. But fuck—I’m so mad!”
The dam in me finally breaks. I reach across and pull her into a hug, holding tight as she shakes against me. “Shhh. I don’t want you to upset the baby.”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, and what I say feels like ripping myself open. “I’ll stay in here with you until you yell, scream, curse me out for as long as you need. And I’ll still love you. And then…I’ll go out there and break things off with your dad.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“I choose you. I’ll always choose you. Even though…” My voice cracks, my head bows, and the ache nearly swallows me whole. “…even though I loved him first. I loved him before I loved you but, Low, I’ll still choose you.”
Something inside both of us snaps, and suddenly we’re clinging to each other, sobbing harder than either of us can control.
Declan’s nonna had the right idea—lock us in until the fight burns out—because for a long while, we just talk.
Voices rise. Accusations flare. Tears spill.
But slowly, the poison drains. And when it’s done, we’re sitting on the floor, backs against the desk, legs stretched out like two kids who’ve cried themselves clean.
“Eslin?” Marlow’s voice comes out small, almost childlike.
“Yeah?” I answer, wiping at my face, bracing myself for whatever comes next.
“I’ve never seen my dad like this. With anyone. Not since my mom. I watched you two from the corner of my eye earlier, when he was pulling out the Christmas decorations, and…” She lets out a shaky laugh. “It made me smile. To see him so smitten.”
My heart stutters, caught between guilt and something dangerously close to hope. “Okay?”
“And I guess what I’m saying is…” She swallows hard, tears brimming again. “I love you both. And if you fought that hard to resist each other out of respect for me, I can’t imagine how difficult it was. Because when I look at the two of you together—you’re perfect.”
The words hit me like sunlight after weeks of rain. Relief. Honor. Fullness. I can barely breathe past the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice trembling. “I love him so much, Marlow. I promise I do.”
Before I can say more, the wall she’s been holding up finally crumbles. Marlow collapses into me, sobs ripping out of her, raw and unrestrained again.
Every ounce of pressure she’s been carrying—her marriage, her father, her career, the baby—it all spills out, shaking her from the inside out.
Her voice cracks, gutted and terrified. “Eslin. I may lose everything!”