Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
CORINNE WILDE - PRESENT DAY
With the police officers gone, Greta comes to find me in my bedroom. Without a lock, I’ve piled several heavy boxes on the cellar door for now.
She folds her arms across her chest, studying me. “You really had no idea that was there?”
“No. We never came in her bedroom, really. And the few times we did, she had furniture all along the walls, plus that big rug that covered most of the room, remember? If Mom knew about it, she never mentioned it. I can ask her next time we talk.”
There must be something in my voice that hints at more than I’ve said because Greta turns her head toward me. “She’s still not speaking to you?”
“I mean, we’ve spoken a few times, but she’s short with me. She hates that I’ve let this happen, and she’s convinced I could fix it if I tried. She loves Lewis. Sometimes I think she loves him more than me.”
I try to make a joke of it, but we both know it’s not one.
From the moment I brought Lewis home to meet Mom, she has been completely taken by him.
She finds him charming, funny, and outright perfect.
And I’ll admit, most days, so do I. But what is it they say?
You don’t divorce the same person you married, or something like that.
The divorce brought out the nastiest sides of us both, and now it’s hard to see him or hear his name and not remember how we fought across that table, via our lawyers, for the scraps from our marriage. For the china cabinet and our record collection and every piece of furniture we bought together.
I still know, deep down, that we are the good parts of our marriage as well as the bad.
The happy days and the date nights and the family vacations.
The times he took care of me when I was sick and how he cheered me on during my book’s publication.
The times we drank champagne to celebrate his promotion to regional manager of his office, and the weeks I held us together after his mother passed.
When we were good, we were really, really good.
But when we were bad…when times got tough, neither of us was willing to fight for it anymore.
My mom—widowed but first divorced—would’ve rather I stayed where I wasn’t wanted, had me fight Lewis as he decided to leave, than to give in, give up, and walk away.
“Well, I love you enough for the both of us,” Greta teases, crossing the room to wrap her arms around me and plant a kiss on my cheek.
I hum a laugh and rest my head against her shoulder. “I know you do.”
“Besides, I’m sure she’s just distracted by her new hubby.”
I fake a gag. “Don’t remind me.”
“Does he expect you to call him Daddy now?”
I pull back and swat her arm. “Don’t be disgusting.”
She snorts and turns away, moving to leave the room, but she stops. “Hey, you know what? Why don’t you and Tay come and stay with me for a while? Until your new locks can be installed and things calm down.”
It’s tempting. Greta has a house big enough for the three of us to live comfortably together.
It’s closer to all of Taylor’s friends, her school, everything.
But part of me knows that if we move in with her, it will be too hard to leave.
To return here. It would be too hard to drag Taylor away from her home and previous life for a second time.
“I would love that, but we can’t.” My face wrinkles with sadness that seeps into my core, like a cold stream of water.
I can picture it—the three of us curled up on Greta’s couch watching a horror movie with all our favorite snacks.
Midnight ice cream sundaes in the kitchen where we have dance parties all night and talk about boys.
The two of us giving Taylor relationship advice and celebrating as she opens her college admission packets.
It could be a beautiful life for all of us. I’m not blind to that fact.
“You can. I have plenty of room, and it would be no trouble. Honestly, you’d be helping me out. You can feed Mr. Whiskers when I’m out late at work. You know I’d love having you both there.”
“I know, but I can’t do that to you or Taylor. Or myself, if I’m being honest. I promised myself after the divorce, I’d learn to stand on my own two feet, be an example for Taylor. If we move in with you, it’d be the opposite of that. I’ll love you forever for offering, but I just can’t.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t like the two of you being out here alone.”
“We’re not alone. We have Conrad.” I have no idea if that’s true.
Nor do I have any idea if Conrad would help us should we need it.
But he’s nearby. He’s been watching this place for Mom.
And he did come running when he heard Taylor scream.
If nothing else, it feels better knowing we have someone else in the vicinity. That it’s not just us and the trees.
Greta gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push the issue. “Well, the offer’s always there if you change your mind.”