Chapter One
New Beginnings
Ella
A year and six months later...
“Boys, I need you to pick up the pace. Your dad will be here soon, and I need to get ready for my book club.”
“You mean you have to get ready for your wine club,” AJ calls out to me from down the hallway of my little three-bedroom home.
My house is much smaller than the home I shared with my ex-husband, but it’s mine and I absolutely love it.
Mitch helped me find this little gem. Not only is it in his neighborhood, but it’s right beside his. It’s a Cape Cod-style home built in the 90s with a large front porch. But the best thing about it, it’s all mine. I used the settlement money from the divorce to buy the little fixer-upper outright.
“Don’t worry about what we do, pack your bag,” I shout before heading back into the kitchen to pull the salted caramel chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.
“Are you listening to me, Ella Marie?” my mom calls out my name through the phone I have propped up on the counter.
I sigh and roll my eyes, only because my mother is miles away from me and can’t see me. Despite being a grown woman, I still won’t let my mother see me rolling my eyes at her. I was threatened so much about it when I was a kid, I’m not convinced she won’t actually knock them out.
“No. I missed what you said.” I hadn’t really, but I don’t want to continue talking about this topic with her. My hope is that she drops the subject altogether.
“I said I don’t like the idea of you spending so much time with Mitchell,” she repeats what I already heard.
“Mama, Mitchell has been a godsend since the divorce. He helped me find this house and is even helping me fix it up. Why would I push him away just because he is friends with my ex?”
I place the homemade cookies on the cooling rack and then move on to the cupcakes I made for the boys to take with them to their father’s this weekend.
Before my mother could reply, Cameron, my ten-year-old son, runs into the kitchen. He reaches for a cookie off the cooling rack. I swat his hand away.
“These are for the ladies at book club.” I give him one of the double chocolate cupcakes instead.
He gladly accepts the substitution. “The hole in the bathroom floor ate my shoe again.”
I drop my head forward between my shoulders. Like I said, the house is a fixer-upper, but it was an amazing deal.
“Alright, I’ll put that on the list for Uncle Mitch and I to fix next.”
“Do you think Uncle Mitch will let me and Jacob use the nail gun again?” Jacob is Mitch’s son and Cameron’s best friend.
Rolling my eyes at him, I immediately reply, “No.” The last time they used that thing, Cam nailed Jacob’s pants to the floor. “Go get your other shoes. And don’t forget to pack your asthma pump.”
“I knew I was forgetting something,” Cam shouts as he runs out of the room. The kid never walks anymore.
“See what I mean,” my mother says, as if she had just proved her point. “You’re relying on that man entirely too much.”
Despite my mother’s concerns, I don’t know what I’d do without Mitch.
He has been a lifesaver. He never took sides the entire time Andrew and I went through our separation and divorce.
I lost a lot of friends. Many of them, I now realize, were friends with me because of my husband.
I’ve even had to cut off some family members who thought to take advantage of my misfortune.
“I’m not relying on him.”
“Honey, the man is at your house every day.”
My mouth opens to argue against that, but she’s not wrong.
She lets out a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m not saying Mitchell isn’t helping you. I just don’t want you to rely on him too much. What if he decides to drop you like that no-good ex-husband? What if he’s only being nice to report back to Andrew?”
Admittedly, I’ve thought about that last one before. I mean, they are friends. However, even Andrew says that he and Mitch aren’t close anymore.
“Mitch isn’t like Andrew, Mama,” I say confidently.
“That’s your problem, baby girl. You were always too trusting. The only reason he is coming around like he does is probably to keep tabs on you. I bet he runs back and tells Andrew everything that goes on. They’re probably plotting to keep you single.”
I stop only for a minute to consider this. I guess it could seem that way, but they don’t know Mitch like I do. He isn’t that type. Plus, I’ve known Mitch longer than I’ve known Andrew. He and I had Spanish class together and became friends. In fact, it was Mitch who introduced me to Andrew.
“You’re wrong about Mitch.”
“Mmmhmmm,” she hums. I can tell she isn’t convinced. But like I said, she doesn’t know Mitchell like I do.
Placing all the cupcakes in the travel cupcake tray, I put the lid on it.
“So, you thought any more about what we talked about yesterday?”
I pause and turn and look at the phone screen, even though I know she can’t see me. “I’m not ready for that.”
“Ella Marie Alexander,”
“Scott,” I say correcting her. “You know I still go by my married name.”
“That’s a problem in itself.” She mumbles in that way that tells you she wants you to hear what she’s saying, but she doesn’t want you to know that. “Honey, it’s been almost two years.”
“Only one year, six months, and four days.”
There’s a pause on her line. “It’s time you saw the blessing in what happened. You are now a single woman again. You need to get out there and start dating.”
Taking the cupcake pan to the sink, I drop it into the warm soapy water before going back to pick up my phone.
“You act like that’s so easy.”
“It is,” she argues. “When your father died, God rest his soul, I thought it was all over for me. But then I met Robert, and I found love again.”
I snort with laughter. “Are you serious? You were twenty-three with a three-year-old. We are not the same.”
“How come?”
A mother’s love is endless, and it can also be blind.
“I’m thirty-eight, with two kids, one being a teenage boy, which has its own problems. I’m also out of shape.
The women my age nowadays are still turning it up and going to clubs.
And the men my age are trying to be sugar daddies to twenty-year-olds. ”
There is silence on her end of the phone. The silence goes on for so long; I think for a moment she’s hung up.
Look, I’m not putting myself down or anything, but I’m a realist. I’m usually in bed by nine, unless there is something good on TV. Other than a glass of wine with the girls in the book club, I’m not turning anything up. I’m a homebody, I’ll admit it.
“You are a stunning woman. Just the other day, Randall Watson asked me how you were doing.”
I scoff. “Deacon Randall? Ma, he’s sixty years old.”
“He is only fifty-eight. And he has a good pension.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “I’m not dating the deacon at your church.” I head out of the kitchen into the living room. The basket of clothes I took out of the dryer a few minutes ago is still waiting to be folded. I flop down on the sofa.
“I didn’t say you had to date him. I was just pointing out that men still find you attractive. And they should. You’re beautiful.”
“Mama.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to date. I want to fix up my house, raise my boys, and bake cakes.”
I’ve always loved baking, ever since I was a little girl helping my grandma—or Nanny as I called her— in her kitchen.
My nanny was the neighborhood baker. During holiday seasons, people would pay her good money to make cakes and pies for their family gatherings.
She always told me that one day she would open her own little bakery.
She passed away before her dream could ever come to fruition.
I made a promise that I would do it for her. It had always been my dream to run my very own bakery one day, but life had other plans. Now I take orders from friends and family online. I’ve been doing well. I’m not making millions or anything, but I have a few loyal customers.
“Honey, I am proof that you can do both. I raised you, went to work, and had time to go on plenty of dates. Now, just let me set something up. I’ll tell Randall to call you and...”
I nearly choke on my saliva. “What? Mama....I can’t..... hear you, mama? The phone is.... breaking up.” I pretend my words are going in and out.
“Ella? Can you hear me now?” Mama calls out before I successfully "drop the call".
I love my mom, and she means well, but she is not listening to me. I understand everyone thinks I should be ready to just jump back into dating. Although my divorce has only been final for six months, Andrew and I lived separately a year before that. I still wasn’t ready.
“You know that’s not going to work forever, right?” AJ says, leaning against the doorframe from the hallway to the living room. “One day she’s going to catch on.”
Placing my phone on the coffee table in front of me, I go back to the basket of clothes.
“Yeah, well, until then, I’m going to use it.”
He laughs, coming into the living room and plopping down on the couch beside me.
“Do we have to go to Dad’s this weekend?”
The hardest part about the divorce was seeing how it affected the boys. They were heartbroken. AJ started acting out in school, and Cameron stopped talking to us. I don’t blame them for their reactions.
The first six months after the announcement at dinner were tough. Andrew and I argued a lot. I pleaded with him to seek counseling with me and to make our marriage work. It wasn’t until AJ finally blew up and told me I wasn’t pleading; I was in fact begging Andrew to stay with me.
After that dreadful conversation, I stopped fighting for the marriage. Andrew and I worked together to make the divorce as peaceful as we could. Andrew moved into a small apartment while I looked for another place to stay. Eventually, the boys finally got back to normal.
There was never any doubt where the boys would end up. I was always going to have sole custody of them, and Andrew would get them every other weekend, summer break, and Thanksgiving. This was his weekend.