CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Scott
Now
A couple of nights later, I hit rock bottom.
I’d thought that had already happened, but I was wrong.
I was exhausted. I’d gotten up at five to try and make sure I could get the morning routine under control.
I’d hit the grocery store and spent over a thousand dollars.
The clerks looked at me funny, but then I heard one say, “Oh, isn’t that Blair’s husband?
Poor man. I heard he’s never even made so much as a boiled egg. ”
“I heard he fed those six kids of his Mrs. Humboldt’s goulash,” another one said.
The gasps were loud enough to be heard all over the store, and I found all eyes on me.
I went home and tried to pack away everything I’d bought. I was surprised how quickly I ran out of space in the pantry, fridge, and freezer.
Perhaps I should have made a list instead of just buying everything I thought the kids might want or need. Hmm. Yet another way for me to feel like a doofus.
Then I’d spent a full day at the dental practice before heading home. I’d begged for help from some of the other moms to get the kids to and from all their practices or rehearsals or wherever the hell they were supposed to be.
Now, I opened the door to see Harrison, Thatcher, Drake, and Tim on my doorstep. I sighed. Yes, I was closer to the men than the women, but these were still essentially Blair’s friends, not mine.
Harrison pushed his way past me. “Sadie thought we should check on you. How’s it going, man?” He looked around the room and seemed to feel better about things.
“Did you get a cleaning service to start coming in?” Thatcher asked, approvingly.
“Yeah.” I sank onto the sofa. “Look, I’m really tired, is there anything I can do for you?”
Tim shrugged. “Just seeing how you’re doing. That’s all.”
When I started to answer him, the other three guys went in search of the children. I frowned. Had Tim distracted me on purpose?
I was about to leave him in the living room, when he halfway blocked my exit. “So,” he said, conspiratorially, “how hot are all those nurses at the hospital, huh?”
I stared at him. “What?”
Tim waggled his brows at me.
“Are you seriously asking me if I’m up there checking out nurses while my wife is in a coma?” I shook my head, sorry for Natalie if this was what she had to put up with.
“He passed the test,” Tim yelled over his shoulder.
“At least there’s that,” Drake called from another room. “Come look what he served for dinner.”
I frowned. There was nothing wrong with dinner. Not one thing. “I spent hundreds at the grocery store. What can you possibly find wrong about their food…” I stopped in my tracks, my mouth dropping open when I saw the smorgasbord in the middle of the table.
“What the hell?” Thatcher made a face. “You’re going to give men everywhere a bad name. That is just… unacceptable.”
I swallowed hard. “I told them I’d been to the store.” I shrugged. “I said they could pick out what they’d like for dinner, and we’d eat at the table together. Kind of like a picnic.”
We all stared at the kids. They stared back at me. “You said to get what we wanted,” Spencer said with his mouth full, powdered sugar lining his mouth.
“I meant real food! Not… junk!”
I’d bought several snacks and sweets, including donuts, cookies, a whole layer cake, and more.
I’d assumed they’d eat them slowly across a week or so.
They’d taken all of it and dumped it in the middle of the table like a centerpiece and were eating it like wild hogs.
Their faces were covered in icing or chocolate.
“What about the fruit? The veggies?”
Sutton started laughing while Selene and Sophia high-fived while holding cookies in their other hands.
Suddenly, I was too tired to go on.
I sank down on the nearest chair and buried my face in my hands.
Everyone went completely silent. I didn’t care.
“Come on, y’all,” Harrison said softly. “I’ll take you to the diner. Let’s give your dad a night off. Tim, why don’t you and Drake come with me.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and I knew what they were doing.
Of all Carrie’s friends, I’d only ever bonded with Thatcher. We weren’t exactly close, but he was the closest thing to a friend I had these days.
I heard him start to move around, cleaning things up. That just made me feel worse. I knew everyone thought I was pathetic. Incompetent. A horrible dad.
And the worst part was that they were right. I wondered if they had any idea how bad I’d been as a husband. I was guessing they had a clue.
“Don’t, Thatcher. Please. I can clean up. I’m not that far gone.” I kind of had been, but I was starting to get it together.
“Okay. Then I’ll let you handle that later. For now, come in here with me. I’m going to show you how to make a few simple things.”
And that’s how the men’s cooking class started.
That night, Thatcher showed me how to make a hot breakfast, complete with eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He also had me cut up some of the fruit I’d bought to make a fruit salad.
“Always serve something really healthy with a meal. If you’re going to serve biscuits and sausage, pair it with a fruit salad or yogurt and granola—low sugar, of course. If you’re ordering pizza, put some vegetables on it and serve it with a side salad and vinaigrette dressing.”
“They won’t eat vegetables on pizza,” I protested.
He gave me a look. “They will if that’s the only way they’ll get pizza.”
I gaped at him, then grabbed my phone to take notes.
Over the next several days, Tim had come to teach me how to grill.
Harrison had shown me how to use an air fryer and an Instant Pot.
Then he’d taught me a couple of easy dinners to make using one of those pre-cooked rotisserie chickens from the grocery store.
Drake had sat with me and helped me choose one of those food delivery services that used meal kits.
“If you use one of these, you can get the kids to help you make it. It has step-by-step instructions. It’ll be fun.
I know Blair told me Sammy has already shown an interest in cooking.
You should get him to help you. Oh, and then you only have to come up with your own dinner or takeout for three or four nights instead of seven. ”
I’d never been more thankful. By the end of that week, I’d felt like I was finally starting to get a handle on things. Or at least not be a total screwup.
***
A few nights later, after the kids were in bed—or at least in their rooms without devices—I lay awake. I was so tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I stared at the ceiling, getting hypnotized by the movement of the fan.
One question kept running through my mind. Why had Blair stayed with me? I not only didn’t deserve her; I wasn’t even anywhere close to in the same league as her. I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the memories of shitty things I’d said through the years.
I’d said what she did wasn’t really a job. That it wasn’t even hard. I rubbed my palms on my eyes. God. I was a moron.
She’d said once or twice that if I had to do what she did for just a couple of days, I’d fall apart.
She was right.
I totally fell apart. I missed her so goddamn much. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. I lay in my empty bed and thought of her lying in the hospital, fighting so hard every day.
I knew she thought I only loved her because of how fantastic our sex life was. But she was wrong. A million little memories had been flooding my mind for weeks now. Blair laughing and dancing with me.
I smiled wistfully. I loved her laugh.
Blair organizing our children with patience, humor, and total capability. They adored her. Even Sutton would still hug her and even try to climb in her lap occasionally. She could do no wrong, and I knew why now.
I saw her through the years—cleaning the kitchen, cooking, teaching our kids how to help her, packing bags for me like I was another child, singlehandedly packing our family of eight for a couple of weeks at the beach, managing all of their homework and what was due, making it to every single game or performance—all while I just…
cruised through life thinking those things were normal at every house.
Or at my lowest moments enjoyed the company of a woman I’d thought really appreciated me.
I’d never fully known how lucky I was. How lucky we all were.
I thought with renewed horror about how I’d treated her when she’d tried to tell me about Scarlett. I cringed and covered my face when I thought of her overhearing those awful things I’d said about her at that ridiculous Christmas party we’d been to years ago.
And I’d forgotten so many birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Blair had bought every back-to-school outfit, every Halloween costume, every Christmas and birthday present, hidden every last Easter egg… what was I even good for?
Nothing. Besides money and my dick.
And let’s get real; Blair could make her own money. And there were probably fifty guys in town who’d give their left arm to date her.
She didn’t need me at all; in fact, the truth was that I created more work for her.
And her last thoughts of me? They took my breath away. She’d thought I was cheating on her. She’d wanted a divorce. She’d finally decided to cut me loose after giving me way too many chances over the years.
I gave up on sleeping. I put my feet on the floor and stared out at the night sky.
Blair had never liked having blinds or curtains on our bedroom windows.
She liked seeing the moon, the stars, the leaves changing in the fall.
I walked over to the window and put my hand on the glass. It was cool to the touch.
Fall was Blair’s favorite season. And she was missing it. I wished I could put it in a bottle for her and have it ready for whenever she came back to us.
“Please come back to us,” I whispered, resting my forehead on the glass and looking at the full moon shining down on the backyard.
I wanted the chance to show her I could do better; I could be better. I would do anything to have the opportunity to love her the right way, the way she deserved to be loved.