Chapter 15
Mia
He’s waiting for me outside Little Luminaries, leaning against my car.
It’s the first time he’s come here.
Unlike other husbands, he never came to pick me up. He never came to the kindergarten for any of the events, though I invited him to all of them.
Seeing him here now is like salt on a wound that's still open, still throbbing.
“What?” I ask, standing in front of him.
I hate that he makes me feel this way. Angry. Defiant.
I’m all negative energy when I think of him.
I’m sad, grieving, broken.
I miss him. I miss us. I miss my home. I miss myself—the woman I used to be, the one who smiled easily, who forgave with her full heart, who was open and kind.
I don’t feel any of those things now. I’m like an automaton.
The only time I feel connected to myself is when I’m with my class—their innocence, their joy in small things, their curiosity, a balm.
I so badly want to have my own kids—but my body betrayed me. And then my husband did.
Maybe I can adopt now.
The thought just springs into my head as I glare at my soon-to-be-ex-husband. He didn’t want us to do that because his parents wouldn’t accept an adopted child. I agreed. But they’re not my in-laws anymore, and I can do whatever I want.
I’m thirty years old, single…and I know it won’t be easy, but it can be done.
“How are you?” he asks softly, his eyes scanning my face.
“Just dandy!” I can’t help but be snarky.
He nods once and smiles weakly. “Would you have coffee with me?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
Why was he making this so hard? I thought I’d leave and he’d be happy, get it on with whatshername. I never expected him to try to make it work between us.
“Baby—”
“What do you want?” I cry out, and some of the teachers walking out look at us.
Burlington is a small town, and the gossipmongers have already distributed the big, juicy news. They don’t know about the Christmas Eve debacle, but they know that our marriage is over, that he’s having an affair with Diana Valentine, that the Winters are thrilled to have me out of their family.
Some colleagues, parents, and acquaintances are kind about it—they say nothing, offer gentle smiles, and pretend not to notice the storm beneath the surface.
Others pity me, tilting their heads and speaking in soft, sympathetic tones that make my skin crawl.
And then there are those who indulge in the schadenfreude, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of watching my marriage fall apart—as if my heartbreak is delicious news, not the slow unraveling of a life.
“I want some time with you. I want to show you that I, that we, deserve a second chance.”
He speaks slowly but confidently. It irks me.
“No.” I love that word. It’s succinct and doesn’t take up a lot of energy. Also, it’s clear and requires no explanation.
“Mia, baby—”
“No,” I hiss it this time.
It’s been seven hours and thirty days since—I feel like fucking Sinead O’Connor—since New Year’s Eve when we spoke.
He’s been sending flowers with notes to Katya’s place. We keep the flowers; I throw away the notes.
Katya wants me to at least read them. I said…no. I can’t. I so desperately want to return to him—get my life with him back— that I don’t need the temptation, because if I let him back into my life, then I know I will lose what remains of me.
At least now, after the hurt becomes less and the pain fades, I can go back to being the Mia I knew, the one I used to be proud of, not this shell of a woman who cries all night in her bed and then goes to work, looking for solace in the company of happy children, hoping their optimism rubs off on her.
“One cup of—”
A sob escapes me, and he goes pale.
“I—”
Tears fill my eyes. “You can’t just show up…you can’t just….” I start sucking in deep breaths.
He purses his lips, nods.
I see that I’m not the only one with moist eyes. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. But…please, Mia, can we talk? Just for a bit.”
I start counting from one to ten inside my head. A grief counselor had taught me that when my parents died, a way to bring myself back to the moment, to get out of my pain.
“Friday,” I whisper. That’ll give me at least three days to prepare myself for him. “Five? Will that be okay for you with work?”
Why the hell am I still being so considerate?
“Whatever time is right for you, will be fine with me.”
He never said that while we were married, I think caustically. And I hate that my mind is crowded with meanness.
“Come to Katya’s cottage. I don’t want to meet…people are talking.”
He steps away from my Chevy Bolt. “I know. And I’m sorry for that.”
I give a tense shrug, jaw clenched. “I…are you seeing her? People say you’re together, and if you are, then—”
“No. Not seeing her. Told her to find another job. Her contract runs out at the end of March. I can’t get her out any earlier.” He speaks quickly, like he needs to get all the information out fast, fast, fast, before I pull the plug on this conversation.
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
Okay, so that hits him real hard. I can see it. I hate myself some more. Why am I hurting this man? I don’t want to cause anyone pain, and yet I like, just a little, to see him in distress, like he needs to feel how I do. It’s stupid. It’s unhealthy. It’s not the path to healing.
“I’d never lie to you, Mia.”
I control a snuffle that tries to escape. “You did when you said you’d….” I trail off.
“Ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie, Aiden,” I tell him, feeling tremendously sad. “I need to go now. I…I don’t feel good.”
That’s the truth. I’m crumbling. Seeing him again is hard. Knowing I lost him is harder to swallow when he’s in front of me.
“May I drive you? I’ll bring you here in the morning and—”
“It’s you who’s making me feel like this,” I burst out. “Please. I’ll see you on Friday.”
He looks defeated as he steps away from my car.
He follows me all the way to Katya’s place. He doesn’t approach me when I go inside. But I know he stays until Katya comes home because that’s the first thing she asks.
“What’s he doing out there?”
“I may have had a bit of a nervous breakdown,” I confess, and then tell her about our conversation outside Little Luminaries.
“God! Well, he looks like he’s lost weight, and I know you’ve dropped more than a few pounds. So…you’re both miserable.” She nods appreciatively. “So far, standard operating procedure for a divorce.”
I chuckle. “And you should know.”
“I should. A client once told me that getting divorced was the best diet program.”
I let my eyes wander to the window. Is he still there?
“You love him, Mia, that didn’t just die, so it’s normal for you to feel the way you do. And he loves you, that didn’t die with that kiss he shared with Diana, either.” Katya kisses my cheek. “Divorces are like a war; no one wins them, but after there may be peace, and that’s the best outcome.”
“Peace would be nice.”
“Come on, how do you feel about pasta carbonara?” She wraps an arm around me and walks me to the kitchen, away from the window, from where I can check if Aiden is still outside.
“I have very good feelings about pasta carbonara,” I answer.
“Excellent. Let’s start with some bacon, and get this show on the road.”
After dinner, when I peek out of the window, Aiden is gone.