Chapter 26
Aiden
The sky is that rich shade of summertime blue as I get ready to pick up my ex-wife and hopefully soon-to-be wife for our second post-divorce date.
Today’s date is simple. Honey tasting at a local apiary in East Montpelier, lunch at a rustic spot that serves grilled cheese and local cider, then a short hike through a wooded trail.
I look at my watch. Another hour to go before I can see her. I do this a lot, keep track of when I’ll see Mia.
I had her here all the time, and I was a fool to let her slip through my fingers. How could I have been so blind to how much I need her, want her, love her? Having her with me, having her generously put up with my bullshit, made me complacent.
I didn’t do the work to keep our marriage healthy and thriving. I didn’t give her the space to be herself.
I put work and my family before her and our life together, and while I did that, I put Diana before her as well. That crushes me, that I was once excited to be with Diana, enjoyed her business acumen, and her company.
Now, she disgusts me.
My marriage falling apart is not her fault. It’s entirely mine. But Diana deliberately set out to hurt Mia, and that crossed all the lines that can be crossed.
At work, I keep it professional. She knows not to get personal with me. The few times she tried, I threw her out of my office. I don’t meet with her alone. There’s always someone else in the office or meeting room. Jolene has started joking that she’s my chaperone.
I make myself a cup of coffee, itching to get the hell out of this house Mia turned into a home. Once she’s back, I want to ask her if we should sell it and start somewhere new.
I used to love this place, but I see it now for what it is—four walls and a roof. What I loved was her in it. Without Mia, it’s just a shell, a place to sleep, nothing more.
She took its soul out the door with her.
The coffee machine drips the last of my coffee into the cup when the doorbell rings. It’s jarring to hear the sound; it’s been a while since anyone visited me.
I wonder if it’s Mia. Is she coming back?
Excitedly, I get to the door and almost close it when I see who’s on the other side.
I really have no time for my mother, fitted into a cream-colored Chanel summer suit. Her expression is a brittle mask of grace that’s…cracking around the edges.
“What do you want?” I don’t mean to sound cold, but I’m already tightening inside.
“When did you become this rude?” She pushes past me into the foyer.
Speaking of rude!
“I need to talk to you,” she announces.
I shut the door, but don’t move closer. “Make it fast. I have somewhere to be.”
She twists the strap of her Prada purse in her hand. For a long moment, she doesn’t speak. Then, “I’m being arraigned on Friday.”
Right! I’d all but forgotten about that.
“Then I hope you have a good lawyer.”
“Aiden,” she snaps. “You’re my son.”
“And Mia is my wife. Or have you forgotten the part where you assaulted her outside a restaurant in front of God and all of Burlington?”
She stiffens. “She provoked me.”
“Mom, Mia can’t provoke a freaking fly, so cut the crap.” I cross my arms. “Why are you really here?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. “I can’t go to jail. You need to tell her to drop the charges.”
I let out a short laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
She recoils.
“I told Mia she could do whatever she wanted. And you know what? She didn’t even want to press charges. Katya insisted. That’s how not-vindictive she is. So maybe you should be glad it’s not worse.”
Her mascaraed lashes blink fast. “You’re turning your back on your own mother.”
I feel something in me, something long tangled up in guilt and obligation, break loose.
“It’s not that hard to do, Mom,” I say evenly. “The way you have treated my marriage, my wife, and my happiness, the way Dad has treated me, I don’t feel I owe either of you anything at this point.”
She’s about to say something, but I hold up a hand to shut her the hell up. “I won’t ask Mia to drop the charges.”
Her lips tremble. “She did this, didn’t she? The vindictive bitch.”
I shake my head, more than a little irritated. “See, you come into our home and call my wife names. This is why I don’t care what happens to you. You hit her. You deserve to pay for it.”
“Look, Aiden—”
“I’m done, Mom,” I cut her off. “I’m done with the emotional blackmail. Done trying to fix what was never mine to fix. I’m working on rebuilding my life with Mia. And you and Dad are not part of it.”
I walk to the door and hold it open.
There are tears in my mother’s eyes. I’m pretty sure they’re borne out of frustration and not sorrow that she’s lost her son. I’ve always known who my parents are; it’s just after Mia left that I accepted and acknowledged it.
As a child, I blamed myself for not liking my parents. I thought there was something wrong with me. You’re supposed to love your Mom and Dad—which I did, but I didn’t always like them. Actually, I didn’t like them most of the time.
Now I see it clearly—the fault doesn’t lie with who I am, but with the boundaries I never set. I let my family trample over me, over us—me and Mia. I opened the door and stood by while they steamrolled our marriage, letting them in where I should have drawn the line.
Knowing this—breathing it in, holding it inside me like a beacon to guide me as I mend myself and my marriage—has been liberating. Letting go of the endless pressure to please people who will never be pleased has lifted a burden I didn’t even realize I was carrying.
“Aiden—”
“Please leave.”
“You’re casting your family aside for her?” There’s venom in her eyes.
“By her, if you mean Mia, Mom, she’s more my family than you are.”
She glares at me so fiercely I’m half-surprised I don’t burst into flames. For a long moment, she just grits her teeth, locking her gaze on mine—a silent warning that I’ll live to regret this.
Whatever!
Then she strides past, her heels cracking against the hardwood like a volley of shots.
As soon as Mom’s gone, my phone beeps with a calendar alert. I grin, it’s time to pick up my wife.
I grab my car keys and head to Katya’s place.
Despite the scene with my mother earlier, I’m excited to see Mia.
We’re about to go on our second date, and the anticipation makes everything else fade. Even my mother’s tirade isn’t an ugly memory anymore; it’s just gone, dissolved into nothingness because it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t.