Chapter 2
two
. . .
W e had weeks of peace and then all hell breaks loose. Apparently, I wasn’t moving fast enough for her—with what, I’m unsure—but dragging my feet didn’t sit well with her.
Like any other night, I come home and find the kids sitting at the table doing their homework. After a quick hi, I take my bag into my office and think about sitting down to relax for a bit after dealing with multiple cases of the flu, a bout of chickenpox, and a baby who won’t stop crying every time his mother picks him up. After an exam, I noticed some bruising she couldn’t explain, and I had no choice but to follow my gut instinct and call child services. By the time they arrived, she had broken down and admitted to hitting him. Fun fucking times.
“Come in,” I say after a knock sounds.
“Hey,” Mack says as he comes into the room. “Um, Betty Paige invited me to go skiing in Vermont after Christmas. Do you think I can go? Noah’s going to be there, and I think it’ll be fun.”
“Did you talk to your mom?”
Mack’s face drops and I do everything I can to not roll my eyes.
“I’ll take care of it. I don’t mind as long as it’s cool with Liam and Josie. I’ll call them later.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mack leaves and I wait for the door to close before I let out a groan as I grip the side of my desk. I honestly don’t know what to do. Not with Aubrey, the kids, or my marriage. Obviously, the answer is to get a divorce, but that’s Aubrey’s solution. Not mine.
Knowing Aubrey’s in the bedroom, I head into the kitchen and start dinner. I suppose when she stopped doing things like making the kids’ food, it should’ve been a sign something was up with her. But nope, I covered for her because I love her and I’m her husband. That’s what husbands should do.
“Amelie, set the table please,” I say as I fill a pot with water and set it on the stove. The pantry is stocked but unorganized, another pet peeve. I can’t help that I like things neat and orderly. It’s in my nature as a doctor. With a box of noodles and a jar of pasta sauce in my hands, I’m back at the stove.
“I don’t want to,” Amelie says.
“I didn’t ask you what you wanted. I told you to set the table.”
“No, why can’t Mack do it?”
This mini-Aubrey version is going to send me to an early grave. The pre-teen hormones are no joke and if there was medication for it, I’d have that child on them so damn fast.
“Because I told you to do it. I don’t want to say it again, Amelie. Set the table.”
“Oh my God, you’re so mean. Everything is so unfair. Mack never has to do anything.”
Mack opens his mouth, but I send him a warning glare. The last thing I want is for this battle to continue. In five minutes, she’ll be over it and things will calm down until the next fight starts.
I pull some ground chicken from the refrigerator and toss it into a frying pan and end up finding a box of Texas toast in the freezer. It’s not much of a dinner, especially with Mack growing like a weed, but it’s something.
Twenty minutes later, Aubrey emerges from the bedroom and sits down. I want to ask why she’s even bothering, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to fight in front of the kids. Our issues are ours. Not theirs.
However, halfway through dinner, everything changes. Aubrey sits up and gets the kids’ attention. She has mine, too, because suddenly, I’m on edge.
“Your dad and I wanted to talk to you tonight.”
Right off, I know this isn’t going to be good. We haven’t discussed anything about the kids, other than I’m not allowing them to go with her. “Aubrey—” I warn. She doesn’t look at me, but back and forth between our children. My stomach rolls. “Don’t do what I think you’re about to do.”
“It needs to be done, Nick.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not now.” Not days before fucking Christmas.
“Your dad and I have decided to get a divorce.”
Silence.
And confusion.
Mack looks from his mom to me. “What?”
“Sorry, bud,” I tell him as I reach for his hand. “This isn’t how I wanted you and your sister to find out and it’s definitely not the right time.”
Amelie starts sobbing and goes to her mom for a hug. I sigh heavily, wishing none of this was happening.
“It’ll be okay,” Aubrey says to Amelie and then reaches for Mack’s hand. “You guys are going to love Johannesburg.”
As if in slow motion, realization washes over Mack. He takes his hand away from his mother’s grip and stands. “I’m not moving,” he says. “You can’t make me.”
“I can,” Aubrey says. “I’m your mother.”
“You don’t have to move,” I tell him. “Aubrey, can you please stop? None of this is what we talked about, and I already told you, you can go. I’ll give you the divorce, but you’re not taking the kids. God, why couldn’t you have waited until we had a discussion on how to tell them because this is not it.”
“Because I want out!” she yells.
“Then leave.” I point to the door. “No one is keeping you here. I can take care of them. I do it every morning while you stand around acting like someone has hurt you when all you’re doing is hurting our family. If you want to go, then go.”
“I’ll go with you, Mommy,” Amelie says, almost pleading with her mother.
“Go to your rooms. Both of you,” I tell them.
Mack starts toward his room, but Amelie just stares at me. I’m on the verge of losing it. All of it, and I know it won’t be pretty. Aubrey sits there, with her arm wrapped around our daughter, as if they’re protecting each other. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.
“Amelie, I’m not going to tell you again.”
“You didn’t ask her,” Aubrey says.
“I’m not asking her, Aubrey. I’m her father and I told her to go to her bedroom.” I start to stand, ready and willing to go to battle with either of them, when Mack comes back into the room.
“Come on, Amelie. Let’s go watch a movie.” We make eye contact, and that’s when I see he’s fighting back tears.
Fuck this.
As soon as I hear his door shut, I move next to Aubrey and keep my voice as low as possible. “What in the hell was that? Seriously, Aubrey. You’re a nurse. You know better than to put children in the middle of this type of shit.”
“You’re scaring me,” she says.
I nod and move a seat away from her. “Is this better, or would you like me to go into my office and call you to discuss the bomb you just dropped on our kids?”
“It was time.”
“Don’t you think we should’ve discussed how we were going to approach this, and when? Do you think it’s fair to ruin their Christmas? They’re children, Aubrey. Still forming their frontal lobes, and this is a memory you want to tie into on their favorite holiday? They’re never going to forget this. Ever. It’s going to be ingrained.”
“Fine. All right. But it’s done, and they know they’re moving.”
I scrub my hand over my face and groan. “They’re not moving. You’re not taking them.”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll file kidnapping charges. Is that what you want? Do you want the feds to stop you at the airport and make a scene? Why are you doing this?”
“Because they’re my babies.”
“They are, and they’re mine, too. And you’re not thinking about what’s best for them right now. You’re thinking about you and how you’re going to hurt me.”
“You’ve hurt me.”
“How? Tell me how and I’ll get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. Tell me how I’ve hurt you, Aubrey.”
“The affair,” she says quietly.
This time, I roll my eyes. “I’m not having an affair.” I pull my phone out of my pocket, unlock the screen, which is her birthday, and hand it to her. “Go through it.”
“I’m sure you deleted everything.”
“Right.”
I leave my phone there and go to the refrigerator to get a beer. Across the room of our open concept house, our Christmas tree sits in the front window. Two weeks ago, the kids and I decorated it while Aubrey stayed in the bedroom with a headache. Maybe that should’ve been my wake-up call.
“I booked flights to Johannesburg,” she says.
“When?”
“The day after they get out of school.” Aubrey stands and comes toward me.
I shake my head slowly. “No, and I’m done having this conversation with you. Tomorrow, you’ll hear from my lawyer.”
I put my unopened beer back in the refrigerator and head down the hall to Mack’s room. Knocking first, I open the door slowly to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, talking on the phone, with Amelie asleep.
Mack stands. “I don’t want to move,” he says quietly so as not to wake his sister. “Please don’t do this to me.”
“You’re not moving. Who’s on the phone?”
“Paige.”
“Hang up and come see me in my office.” I shut his door and head to my office. It’s my space and the only place I’ll get peace right now. Seconds later, Mack’s sitting on my couch, which is also currently my bed. At least I have the keen sense of mind to fold my blankets in the morning so the space is somewhat presentable.
“I’m sorry for what your mom did at dinner. This is not how I wanted you and your sister to find out.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m going to be honest with you. Your mom wants to move back to South Africa. Apparently, she’s wanted this for a while, but felt like she couldn’t say anything. I don’t think it’s right that she takes you and Amelie. In fact, I’m dead set against it.”
“I don’t want to go, Dad. Amelie does, though.”
I nod. “I figured. Honestly, I’m not surprised. She’s young enough to still adjust and forge a new path, but you . . .” I put my hand on his leg. “You have a lot going for you right now.”
“Please don’t make me go.”
“I’m going to do my best, Mack. I have to talk to a lawyer tomorrow and figure some things out.”
“Are you going to move out?”
“Definitely not. Your mom and I have coexisted for a while now. I’ll just have to watch where I step.”
Mack’s eyes rim with tears. “I hate her. She’s trying to ruin my life.”
“Hate’s a strong word, bud. Right now, your mom’s angry with me, and she knows this is how to hurt me, through you and your sister.”
“But why does she want to hurt me?”
“My guess is she doesn’t see it as hurting you but protecting you from me.”
Mack’s tears fall down his cheeks. I pull him into my arms and let him cry. I never wanted this for my children and never thought in a million years Aubrey would want it either. Both our parents are still married and going strong. This news is going to devastate them. Although, I imagine her parents are happy she’s coming back to them.
“Promise me something, Mack.”
“What?” he asks in a broken voice.
“If you can’t talk to me about something in your life, like how you’re dealing with the divorce, talk to Noah. Okay?”
Mack nods and wipes his tears. “Okay.”