Chapter 15
Fifteen
Lydia lay awake until the subdued winter light filtering through the curtains announced it was finally morning. The crushing weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest had kept her up all night.
Tom had been here. On Ethan’s porch. Threatening to burn down his house with everyone inside. Had already tried exactly that, instinct whispered the dark truth of it. The memory of his voice … slurred, angry, so full of rage it had stopped sounding human … it made her stomach clench.
She rolled onto her side, pulling the blankets up to her chin, and stared at the wall.
The guest bedroom was warm and comfortable, decorated in soft blues and creams that Sarah had probably chosen.
Sarah, who’d been a nurse and kind and everything Lydia wasn’t.
Sarah, who’d never brought a violent ex-husband to Ethan’s door.
Sarah, who would have fit perfectly into his orderly, well-managed life.
Unlike Lydia, who was all chaos and mangled pieces and a drunk ex who might have tried to murder them all.
What could she possibly offer Ethan except trouble?
Her life was a disaster. No home, no job, no money beyond what little inheritance she hadn’t spent yet, which she still needed to gain access to.
She was living in his house, using his electricity, eating his food, sleeping in a bed that should have been for his future children with Sarah.
Hell, she couldn’t even prove she was Lydia Harper. All she’d brought him was Tom’s violence to his doorstep, put him in danger, and disrupted his peaceful existence with her mess. It wasn’t fair to him. Wasn’t fair to keep taking and taking when she had nothing to give back except more problems.
Lydia closed her eyes, feeling tears sting behind her lids.
The past week had been beautiful. Magical, even.
Decorating the Christmas tree, the sledding trip, those kisses that had made her feel like a woman instead of just a tired, scared mother.
But that was just the holidays, wasn’t it?
Some kind of seasonal aberration where normal rules didn’t apply, and everything seemed more romantic than it really was.
Once Christmas passed, once real life resumed, Ethan would realize what she was.
A charity case. A woman with too much baggage and not enough to offer.
Someone who would only drag him down. Maybe not quite in the way Tom had dragged her down, but she would be the inferior one.
The one who needed rescuing. And she wanted to be someone who was strong, who could handle her problems. Be an adult.
And the kids … the kids needed stability. They needed routine and safety and a home that wasn’t constantly under threat. How could she give them that when she couldn’t even keep them safe from their own father?
Maybe she needed to start making plans. To pick up the pieces of her life and move along before she forced all her luggage onto Ethan’s shoulders.
Get access to her bank accounts, find a job, and look for an apartment they could afford.
Once she had her life together, once she was stable and independent and had something to offer besides chaos, then maybe there could be something with Ethan.
Maybe then she could come to him as an equal instead of a burden.
She’d ordered a certified copy of her Ohio birth certificate online, the confirmation email already starred in her inbox on the cellphone Ethan had organized for her, even though it would take weeks to arrive.
Only then could she get a new social security card, visit the DMV for a license, and, most importantly, access her bank accounts.
But right now? Right now, she was just taking advantage of his kindness.
The thought made her throat tight, made her want to pull the covers over her head and hide. But she had kids to take care of, responsibilities that didn’t stop just because she was having an existential crisis.
Lydia forced herself out of bed, dressed in jeans and one of Ethan’s flannel shirts that she’d borrowed and hadn’t returned yet, and headed downstairs.
She found Eli and Rosie already awake, sitting at the kitchen table in their pajamas, looking small and uncertain. The house felt empty in a way it hadn’t before. The silence too complete, too heavy.
“Where’s Ethan?” Rosie asked immediately, her eyes worried.
“He had an early shift, sweetie. He left before we woke up.” Lydia forced brightness into her voice, forced herself to smile. “How about some breakfast? Eggs sound good?”
They nodded, but without their usual enthusiasm.
They’d been subdued since Tom’s visit last night, quieter than usual, and it broke Lydia’s heart all over again.
This was what her marriage had done to them.
Made them wary, made them flinch at loud voices and sudden movements. Made them old before their time.
She was whisking eggs when she noticed the note on the counter, weighted down by something small and rectangular. Lydia set down the bowl and picked it up, her breath catching when she saw what it was.
A credit card. Ethan’s credit card, with his name embossed in neat letters across the front.
The note was written in his careful, precise handwriting:
Lydia,
Realized we’re getting low on a few things. Would you mind picking up groceries if you have time today? List on the back.
—E
She flipped the note over. The list was practical and specific: milk, bread, eggs, coffee, fresh vegetables, chicken breasts. Things a household needed. Things that cost money she didn’t have.
Lydia’s face burned with mortification.
This had to stop. Tomorrow, Monday morning, first thing, she’d go to the bank and figure out how to access her accounts.
There had to be a way. Get a new debit card issued.
Start paying for things herself instead of being dependent on Ethan.
When he’d offered her a place to stay, she hadn’t realized all that he would have to do for them.
Lend her money for Christmas presents, for groceries, even gas.
The holidays had been some kind of magical bubble where normal rules didn’t apply. But it was time to get back to real life. Time to stop pretending this was sustainable.
After eggs that the kids picked at without much interest, Lydia got them dressed and bundled them into her car. The drive to town felt longer than it should have, the clouds overhead pressing down like a weight, the mountains looking stern and unforgiving in the winter light.
The grocery store was busy with Sunday morning shoppers.
Lydia pushed the cart through the aisles with Eli and Rosie trailing behind, checking items off Ethan’s list. Milk, bread, eggs.
Coffee, the good kind he liked, even though it cost twice as much.
Fresh broccoli and carrots because he’d mentioned wanting to make stir-fry this week.
Every item she added to the cart felt like another weight on her shoulders, another thing she owed him, another reason she needed to get her life together and stop being such a burden.
They were loading bags into the Civic when Lydia heard a familiar voice.
“Ms. Harper?”
She turned to find Michael standing on the sidewalk outside Iris Cafe, hands in his pockets, that gentle smile on his face. He wore his usual white shirt and denim jacket despite the cold, and somehow managed to look comfortable when Lydia was shivering in her heavy coat.
“Michael!” Rosie shrieked with delight, abandoning the grocery bags to run over and hug him. “We had pancakes! And Ethan let us use lots of syrup!”
“That sounds wonderful,” Michael said, patting her curls gently. His eyes found Lydia’s over Rosie’s head. “Good morning. How are you all?”
“We’re—” Lydia stopped, unsure how to answer. Fine? That was a lie. Surviving? Too dramatic. “We’re managing. How are you?”
“Well enough.” Michael’s gaze was knowing, like he could see right through her careful smile to the anxiety churning underneath. “I was just about to get coffee. Would you join me?”
Lydia should say no. Should finish loading groceries and get the kids home and stop imposing on people’s time and generosity. But the thought of going back to Ethan’s empty house, of sitting alone with her spiraling thoughts, made her chest tight.
“I’d like that,” she heard herself say. Then, remembering Ethan’s credit card, she added quickly, “But let me buy. It’s the least I can do after … well, after everything.”
She felt guilty about using Ethan’s card without permission, but she’d pay him back. Monday, first thing, when she’d get her accounts sorted and repay every cent she’d borrowed. This was just temporary. Just until she got back on her feet.
Iris Cafe was warm and welcoming, decorated for Christmas with garlands and twinkling lights.
They found a table near the window where they could watch the Sunday morning foot traffic, and a cheerful waitress took their order.
Coffee for the adults, milkshakes for the kids, although Michael’s stood cooling on the table while he cupped it in his hands but didn’t actually drink it.
“The Christmas lights are so pretty,” Rosie said, pointing out the window at the decorations strung across Main Street. “Can we get lights for our house?”
“It’s not our house, baby,” Lydia said automatically. “It’s Ethan’s house. We’re just … we’re just staying there for a while.”
“But we live there now,” Rosie insisted. “That makes it our house too, doesn’t it?”
Lydia didn’t know how to answer that. Didn’t know how to explain that they were temporary, that they couldn’t get too attached, that everything could fall apart at any moment.
“Look at the wreaths,” she said instead, deflecting. “See how they have the red bows?”
The kids were absorbed in their milkshakes, leaving Lydia and Michael in companionable silence.
“You seem troubled,” Michael said quietly. Not a question, just an observation.