Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CORINNE WILDE - PRESENT DAY
Whether or not I like it, having Lewis and Taylor gone for the day makes me more productive than ever.
In a way I really hate, it does feel like old times. When she was little, Lewis and I would rotate weekends to take her out and go on adventures. Every other weekend, one of us would take Taylor and spend the whole Saturday doing something fun with her. We’d go to city museums or parks or the zoo.
The other parent got the day to do whatever they wanted—relax, catch up on work or house stuff, nap, or even go on adventures themselves. I usually picked a book and spent the whole day reading, while Lewis would either go out with his friends or spend the day napping in his recliner.
During the wild toddler and childhood years, it was our way of keeping each other sane.
Now, with the house quiet and all to myself, I feel it again.
The immediate peace that comes with being alone.
I used to feel so guilty about it, like it meant I was a bad mom or didn’t love my child enough, but I know now that being alone is how I recharge.
My body and my mental health require it to keep me at my best.
With the house empty, I’m able to get every single box unpacked, the minimal decor we brought hung up, and the remaining furniture placed where I want it.
The internet technician arrives around three, and it takes every bit of an hour to get it set up, but once he does, I can’t resist the urge to sit down on the couch and check social media. By which I mean…Lewis’s…social media.
It’s the first time I’ve done it since the day the divorce was final, and I can’t help wondering if it’s changed. If he’s now a completely different person online. I open Instagram, but to my surprise—and relief—the last picture he posted is still the one of Taylor and him at Christmas.
I don’t know what I expected—a photo of him and his new girlfriend? A photo of him on a tropical vacation? It’s only been a few days, and yet it feels like a lifetime. He feels a lifetime away.
I close the app and return to the bedroom to get my laptop. With everything put away and the house quiet, I should really attempt to get a chapter or two written. My agent will be expecting my latest manuscript to be turned in next month, and I’m really struggling to make it happen.
Before I’ve typed the first word, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Greta.
“Hey, just checking back in to see how things are going. Did enemy number one leave?”
I smile to myself. Somehow, I needed that reminder. That he is the enemy. That even if I love him and know he can’t actually be an enemy for Taylor’s sake, I have to treat him like one where my heart is concerned. Nothing has changed.
“He took Taylor to get a new laptop.”
“Well, isn’t he just Dad of the Year.”
“It’s fine, honestly. She needed one, and I can’t afford it right now. It’s better this way. Besides, it gave me a chance to finish unpacking the house.”
“You’re all settled in now, then?”
“I think so. The internet guy just left, and everything’s put away. I’m starting to feel okay again.”
“I’m glad. Well, listen, I just got to a showing and had a few minutes, so I wanted to check in. You call if you need anything, okay?”
“Always. Love you.”
We end the call, and I return to the couch, opening my latest manuscript.
When the door opens later, I’m in a haze of my story and have completely lost track of time. Taylor appears, keys and new laptop in hand. She looks around, eyes wide.
“Wow, Mom. It looks great in here.”
She’s in a good mood, then.
I close my laptop as Lewis appears, carrying an armful of bags from different stores.
“Did you have a nice time?”
“The best. Dad took me shopping for clothes, too. Since so many of mine got ruined.”
I glance toward the bags. “You mean they got…wet?”
She turns back to Lewis, taking the bags and disappearing to her room.
His hands go up in surrender toward me once she’s gone.
“I know you’re probably going to say she didn’t need them, but I just bought a few things for the summer.
The Apple Store didn’t take long enough, and after eating lunch we still had time to kill.
If it helps, we went by the bookstore too, and she picked you both out a few books. ”
“You shouldn’t buy things for me.”
His smile is patronizing. “That wasn’t in the divorce handbook.” He comes to sit down on the couch next to me. “We agreed to be friendly. Friends gift things to each other. It’s a thanks…for letting me see her. For letting me stay here.”
“Just for the night,” I remind him. “And only because it’d be irresponsible to drive during the storm. Tomorrow, you have to go.”
It takes several seconds, but eventually, he agrees. “Yeah, you’re right. Tomorrow. But tonight…” He glances over the back of the couch. “Why don’t you go and take a bath? I can get supper going.”
I sniff myself, and he laughs.
“You smell fine. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Oh, good. ‘Fine’ was what I was going for.” My brows rise without warning. “Did you say you’re going to cook?”
He chuckles under his breath at my surprise. The husband I once had could—and frequently did—burn toast. “I’m having to learn.”
I place my laptop on the couch and stand. In the kitchen, I search through the fridge. “We have stuff to make taco bowls, meatloaf, or…stuffed pepper soup.”
“Taco bowls are her favorite,” he says from where he’s standing near the stove.
I grab the pound of ground beef. “Taco bowls it is, then.”
“I’ll see if she wants to help,” he says. My face must be skeptical, because he laughs. “Taylor! Come help with dinner, Bug!”
She appears at the end of the hallway a few moments later, eyes glued to her phone. “Internet’s working?”
“The technician was here earlier,” I confirm.
“Finally. I have to call Heather.” Without another word, she disappears back down the hall. I can’t fight my smug grin as I look at Lewis. Did he really expect that she’d help willingly? Taylor hates to cook, like her father.
“Don’t worry about it.” He opens a cabinet with a shrug, unfazed. “I can handle dinner. You go take your bath. Relax.”
My throat is dry as I watch him pull out a cutting board. This all feels so strange, like a trap, but I’m trying to trust him. To find our new normal. “Knives are in the drawer next to the sink.”
He spins around, opening the drawer with a quick wave of his hand. “I’ll find everything. Don’t worry.”
An hour later, my skin is wrinkled and red from my bath, and I’m three chapters deeper into the book I’ve been reading—the dystopian one about the teenager who saves the world. It’s not generally my genre, but I need escapism lately and I’m finding it helpful.
The spicy scent of tacos fills the air outside the bathroom, and I make my way down the hall, running my fingers through my wet hair. He was right, I needed this more than I realized.
The food is waiting on the island, already in serving dishes, but Lewis is on the couch, one leg crossed over the other as he does a crossword puzzle on his phone.
“You didn’t burn the house down.”
He startles, glancing over his shoulder at me like he didn’t hear me coming. “For once, no,” he says with a soft laugh. “No fires.” He holds his hands up so I can see them. “All my fingers are still intact. I managed to make it all on my own.”
“Look at you, growing up.”
“Didn’t think I had it in me, did ya?”
His words hit me with a pang of sadness. We were supposed to grow up together. Grow old together. “I always suspected you did,” I say simply.
He clears his throat, standing up and crossing into the kitchen. “I waited for you before calling Taylor, but I’ll go and tell her dinner is done.”
I pull three bowls from the cabinet while he heads down the hall, and when he comes back, we make ours side by side. After a few moments of silence, he asks, “Are you…uh, planning any trips anytime soon?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. Why?”
“I just didn’t know. With summer and everything. And all your newfound freedom.”
“I have deadlines.” And solo bills to pay for the first time in nearly three decades.
“I thought I might take Taylor somewhere for fall break, if that’s okay with you.”
“We’d have to discuss it,” I say first, quickly, then after thinking about it, I add, “but I think she’d like that.”
He seems relieved when he adds, “And then there’s her birthday. I’m assuming you’ll want to do something together for that.”
“If that’s what she wants.”
“Would we…” He pauses. “I don’t know what the rules are here. Would you want to do a family trip? You could bring whoever you want with us. Greta or…” There’s a clearing of his throat that I feel in my veins. “A boyfriend or whatever.”
I stop sprinkling the diced tomatoes into my bowl for a second, wondering what he’s telling me. “Okay.”
“Yeah? Do you… Are you seeing someone, then?”
I resume making my bowl, simply for something to steady my shaking hands.
How are we possibly going to have this conversation?
I want to lie. To say, “Oh yes, I’ve been dating quite a bit actually.
My first time being single since I was sixteen, and I’m making the most of it, dating so many people.
Countless people.” But the truth is… “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. ”
“Oh.”
I suck in a breath. “What about you?”
He draws his lips in, opening the taco sauce. “I…I went on a date with someone Brad set me up with. Just one date. I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”
I always knew I could count on fucking Brad from accounting to come through with a quick after-divorce date. Can’t have Lewis getting lonely. Can’t have my side of the bed getting cold.
The knife in my gut twists at the mental image of him sitting across the table from her. Whoever she might be. Did he like her? Did he think she was pretty? Did she like him back? Did they kiss? Or…
Someday, I have no doubt he will remarry, and that woman will become Taylor’s stepmother. Someday, I’ll have to deal with that, and perhaps even attend a wedding if I’m invited.
“That’s nice,” I say simply. There’s nothing else to say. We said it all on the pages where our signatures have now dried.
“Estelle,” he says. “That was her name.”
The name, at least, gives me a small reason to smile. “What, is she a nineties talent agent?”
“Cloud of smoke, red lipstick, and everything,” he says, immediately catching my Friends reference.
And just like that, we’re back to normal. Or, at least, whatever our new normal is.
It’s always been easy with Lewis, but maybe that’s the problem.
It became too easy. Too easy to slip into the roommates routine.
Too easy to be hateful toward each other over simple things just because we assumed we were rock solid.
Because we’d been together for so long, through so much.
We didn’t think we had to work for it anymore.
Eventually, our rock solid became rock bottom, and instead of fighting for our way back, we washed our hands of it all and walked away.
He moves to the fridge to get a drink, then holds the pitcher of tea out in my direction and, when I nod, pours me a glass. It’s easy to allow this to feel normal, but I can’t forget that it’s not.
Tomorrow, he goes home. Tomorrow, this all ends.
When my phone starts vibrating and I spot Mom’s name on the screen, I nearly drop the bowl I’m holding. Lewis turns around quickly.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s Mom. Sorry. I need to take this.” I back away from the island and down the hall to my bedroom. The last thing I need is for Mom to hear him in the background and assume we’re getting back together or something.
In the bedroom with my door shut, I answer.
“Mom?” I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much I want to ask her now that I have her on the phone—who had access to Foxglove, why she never told me about her sister, and why EJ is screening her calls.
“I hear you have a visitor.” Her voice is distant. Cold.
“What?” My blood turns to slush as I hear Lewis talking to Taylor outside the door, telling her it’s time to eat.
“Lewis. Is he still there?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He told me he was coming,” she says, sounding pleased with herself. “Are you two playing nice?”
This is why she called? Not because I’ve called her half a dozen times asking her to call me back.
Not because she wanted to check in on her daughter after a brutal divorce.
Not even because she wanted to check in on her grandchild after she was uprooted from the only home she’s ever known.
No, it’s because her beloved son-in-law is here.
I should’ve known better.
I’ve always suspected Mom loves Lewis more than she loves me, but here’s the proof in black and white.
“What do you want, Mom?”
“I wanted to see how it’s going.”
“You wanted to gossip.” I suck in a deep breath, then look down at my phone. I can hear her saying something, but I don’t know what. If I end this call, there’s a good chance I won’t hear from her again, but what use is this?
This isn’t the phone call I expected or wanted. It’s not the phone call or conversation I need.
I end the call, fuming. How dare he do this?
How dare he tell her he was coming, give her false hope.
I know they’re still close. I know they’ll still be in communication.
That he’s been in my mom’s life for decades, and they will always be family.
I don’t want them to hate each other, but I don’t want them to have each other, either. She’s supposed to take my side in this.
It’s the bare minimum.
Bitter tears sting my eyes as I prepare for the confrontation.
If he wants to be in my life, and not just Taylor’s, he has to keep our private life private. He can’t tell my mom everything. Every conversation and every visit. I won’t allow it. He knows how complicated our relationship is.
I open the door, ready to confront him, but I’m met with Lewis standing in Taylor’s doorway, looking my way, eyes wild.
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“What? No, I—”
“She was all too pleased—”
“Corinne—” He holds up a hand, cutting me off, and then I hear it. The panic in his voice. Something’s wrong. Something is very wrong. His voice breaks when he speaks next, pushing the door open farther so I can see into our daughter’s room. “Taylor’s gone.”