Chapter 30 #2
Would he take something like that to the tabloids?
The answer to my question is written all over his face. A version of him far gone from the guy I once married.
“I don’t know who you are anymore,” I whisper.
He used to hold open every door I walked through.
Planned FaceTime calls when he could tell I was missing my parents.
Brought home all three flavors of ice cream when I couldn’t choose one.
He used to be thoughtful and charming, but his actions are proving he’s capable of ruining every good moment we’ve ever shared.
Right now, my priority is Quinn. I need to get to the school.
He could be lying about her getting picked up.
She could still be waiting for me, and this was his plan all along—to make me late and look bad to Everett or Caroline.
To look like the flaky fool he chose to divorce instead of the confident woman who fights for the people she loves. Well, to hell with that.
I jump in the front seat and slam the door in his face. Luckily I don’t pass any cops on the way to the school pushing fifteen over the speed limit. I’m breathless by the time I’m crossing the parking lot. Hopeless by the time I’m facing Quinn’s teacher.
“Summer, hi!”
I grab Henry’s hand. “Where’s Quinn?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you knew… her grandmother picked her up earlier today. Poor thing could barely keep her head off the table.”
My heart plummets. “Miss Amy, I’m… I’m so sorry. I should have known she was sick. I should have never sent her to school and—”
She places her hand on my arm. “Do you know how many times I dropped my kid off and got that phone call? It happens to everyone.” Even moms is what she’s trying to convey.
Even moms could send their child to school sick.
But moms would also be the emergency contact, and I’m not either of those things.
“Thank you,” I say back. In five seconds flat an entire plan arranges itself in my brain, and it starts here.
“Miss Amy, I might not be able to make it to the talent show practice on Monday. Would you run through everyone’s parts onstage if I’m not there?
It’s our last rehearsal before the program next weekend, and I want them to feel confident. ”
A nervous giggle escapes her lips. “I won’t be nearly as good at it as you are, but of course! Is everything okay?”
I give her a shaky nod because I hope it is. “Thank you.”
We lose eye contact when she waves at the next guardian.
I try to make conversation with Henry on the way to the car, but my mind is already spinning a web ten paces in front of me.
Mapping out what to do next, where to go, who to call.
I don’t have to scroll very far into my contacts for the next person on that list. I text Julia once we make it to the car, but by the time I’m dropping Henry off at home it’s Jake who greets us.
“Hey. Julia couldn’t get out of class.”
“Thanks for coming,” I say.
“Hi, Henry.” They exchange a—awkward by Jake, normal by Henry—greeting with their eyes. No high fives, hugs, or handshakes. At least he knows his son doesn’t like to be touched.
“Thanks for giving me the opportunity,” he says before I wave goodbye to both of them.
I know Julia has struggled to give Jake much of a chance lately, but maybe he wants to be a bigger part of Henry’s life now.
I don’t wait to make sure they make it in okay.
Based on the morning Jake let himself in the front door, Julia has given him a key.
Evidence of Everett’s absence hits me the second I follow the empty median that centers Harrison Boulevard. Reporters no longer camp in the middle of the street with him gone.
Trapped butterflies take flight in my stomach at the first sign of Caroline’s Land Rover in the driveway.
She could have taken Quinn to her own house after picking her up from school, but my instincts told me she would bring her here to the comfort of her bed.
For the first time in a long time, I trusted myself, and I was right.
I waltz through the towering front door like I own the place and cause the semi-circular transom window above it to rattle when it closes.
A savory aroma of herbs and broth wafts down the hallway where Caroline stands, trapping me in her stare.
Blocked by wainscoted walls, I can’t see where Quinn is resting.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
In the few interactions Caroline and I have shared, she’s tried to ignore me or put me in my place. The current shrewd look tells me this one will be the latter.
“She’s sleeping.”
I nod. “Caroline, I—”
“She shouldn’t have gone to school,” she barks.
“I know; I’m sor—”
“She shouldn’t have been left behind for another concert either.”
She’s upset and blaming both of us. Frustrated over how this situation transpired.
It’s obvious she believes this all could have been avoided with better decision-making.
I admire that she wants what’s best for Quinn, but I need her to see that Everett does too.
I wait until it’s clear she’s gotten everything off her chest before defending him.
“He’s trying to support her in the best way he knows how.”
If she would have witnessed the turmoil he faced leaving Quinn, I’m confident she’d understand that salvaging his career isn’t a selfish pursuit. Maybe it was before he lost Eliza, but not anymore.
“He’s not perfect,” she says as if I have the naive notion that he is. I’m not some girl swept away in the fantasy of dating a famous musician. But at this point, Caroline doesn’t know my intentions. In fact, she knows very little about me if she assumes I’m looking for perfection.
“Have you ever made a mistake?” I ask her.
It doesn’t faze me when she remains silent.
It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.
“I’ve made my fair share of them. I was married for twelve years before I met Everett.
My ex and I had our good times, but we both avoided self-reflection.
We struggled to communicate and grew apart because of it.
Everett is a man who keeps a list of every mistake he’s ever made as Quinn’s dad in his bedside drawer.
That list is long, but he writes them down, so he doesn’t repeat them.
I think it’s honorable when a person introspects like that.
Recognizes the ways they could improve before placing blame on anyone else.
So, you’re right; Everett isn’t a perfect person.
But he’s perfect for Quinn because he wakes up every day aspiring to be a better parent than the day before.
As her grandmother, I think that’s all you can hope for. ”
It wasn’t my place to tell her about Everett’s private journal.
Especially when he still doesn’t know I even read it.
I just wanted her to see a side of him she doesn’t get to.
She has yet to say anything, but that’s probably for the best. I have somewhere I need to be, and I shouldn’t prolong this conversation more than I need to.
“I don’t want to leave Quinn, but something urgent came up since I left work. There’s a chance I need to jump on a flight and might be out of town for a day or two. Can she stay with you?”
I’m not going anywhere is written on her face.
“Right. Thanks. I’ll just”—I point toward the staircase—“grab my things.”
Before I reach the dark-stained handrail, I turn around.
“For the record, Caroline, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but loving Everett and Quinn is not one of them. No matter what, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
My time with them has been challenging and beautiful and not nearly long enough, and at the end of the day, it’s made up of a million moments she’ll never see. But I hope what she has seen conveys the biggest theme of all—they’re the place I call home.