Allie
It’s starting to snow.
Just barely. But enough to make you stop and squint, like maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you. It’s only a few days until Thanksgiving, and I figured today would be a good day to take the girls to the park.
With Trevor.
I probably shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions anymore. But in my defense, I thought maybe we could talk about everything. Maybe if he saw how happy the girls still are, how normal things feel, maybe he’d stop all of this.
This court mess. This fight over who’s the better parent.
This idea that anyone even has to win. Or maybe I could make him see that there’s nothing wrong with the fact we’re happy with new people.
People who don’t look at us differently for our pasts.
People who love both of the girls we created even though they’re not theirs.
Something a lot of people get pushed aside for and we’re both lucky to be able to experience the love we deserve.
I just need Trevor to see that.
All I’ve been doing for the last three days since we got back from New York, is try to work up the nerve to say any of this to him. To explain that Jax isn’t trying to take his place the same way Marissa isn’t trying to take mine.
If only he could have seen their faces when Jax pulled out the two Nemo plushies he got on our trip—just for them. And how much not just their eyes lit up, but his too at their reactions.
Because he loves them.
And when Charlotte practically declared she was coming with us next time so she could see the big buildings and the loud trains, too.
If only Trevor would see the way he is with them, I know he’d understand. But he already has it in his mind that Jax is the bad guy here.
Imagine that. The man who throws tea parties with toddlers and kisses scraped knees like he was born to do it—he’s a threat.
The thought alone almost makes me laugh.
I watch as Trevor weaves between the jungle gym, playing peekaboo with Lydia and tickling Charlotte until she squeals. And for a second, I wonder where this version of him was a year ago.
Back then, it was like pulling teeth to get him to even read the girls a bedtime story. And now, all of a sudden, he’s Superdad. And it would be beautiful, if it didn’t feel like it was all for show.
I force myself off the bench, listening to the way the mulch crunches under my weight with each step. I listen until the sound of Lydia’s screeching laughter fills my ears and drowns everything else out, and can’t help but smile.
I sneak up behind her, poking her in the side just as she bursts into a fit of giggles.
“Mommy, you scare me!” she squeals, pointing her little finger at me. Her nose is already red from the cold.
Trevor snickers. “Mommy’s sneaky, huh, Lyd?”
My eyes dart to him, thinking he’s saying it just to be a dick, but when I look at him, he’s actually smiling. Like he might actually be in a good mood for once.
Maybe I can do this.
The second the girls run down the tunnel toward the slide, I turn toward him, clearing my throat.
“So… where’s Marissa?” I ask sheepishly, rubbing my hands together for warmth. “She couldn’t come?”
He doesn’t look at me at first, eyes still fixed on the girls as they glide down the slide together.
“She had to work,” he says, then turns to glance at me. “What about Jax?”
For some reason, him asking about Jax lightens something on my shoulders, but also twists my stomach. Like I’m stuck between wanting to believe he’s genuinely curious and suspecting he’s just trying to pry.
I shrug. “Same. He had to do another interview today.”
Trevor nods without looking at me. “Oh. So I guess that means he’s not busy punching old dudes in a bar?” he says flatly.
My head snaps toward him, eyes scanning the playground around us to make sure the girls didn’t overhear. Thankfully, they’re too wrapped up in a giant game of tic-tac-toe to notice anything else.
I’m not even sure I heard him right, because what the fuck?
I shake my head slowly, a lump already forming in my throat. “It wasn’t like that, Trevor.”
He scoffs. “No? Should I believe you? Or the hundreds of people posting about it online? Because from what I read, some poor guy barely walked up to your table and Jax just laid him out for no reason.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. I blink at him, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening. “Me, of course. I would kno—”
“Really? Because it seems like you don’t. Like you’re just making excuses for him—again.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “What the hell has gotten into you? Letting a violent, mentally unstable man like that around our daughters? Come on, Allie.”
I’m too busy fighting back tears to answer. I don’t understand what happened to the man I was in love with just a few years ago. He was never this nasty or hateful.
And now? He’s worse than anyone I’ve ever met.
The sound of crunching mulch pulls my attention and I see Charlotte dragging Lydia along by the hand. They stop in front of us with wide smiles and rosy cheeks.
“Mommy?” Charlotte says, not letting go of her sister’s hand.
I kneel in front of her. “Yes, baby?”
“When are we moving to New York?”
My eyes go wide. “No, no, baby. That’s not what we said, remember?”
Suddenly, the feel of a hand encircling my arm yanks me upright.
“Ouch, Trevor, let go!” I try not to shout, not wanting to scare the girls.
He stands mere inches away, his breath hot against my face. When his eyes meet mine, his grip tightens around my arm, my skin burning where his fingers dig through the fabric of my thin jacket.
“If you seriously think you’re taking my daughters off to go play house with your mentally deranged boyfriend, you’re stupider than I thought, Allie,” he seethes, then finally releases his fingers from my bicep.
Fear coils around my spine as droplets of his spit land on my nose. Not fear for our safety, but that quiet, humiliating dread of a memory resurfacing too quickly—one I thought I’d buried for good.
Because this? This isn’t the Trevor I knew and loved. This is the Trevor I met when I finally had enough. The one who was cowardly enough to grab me so hard it left bruises just for remembering my worth. The one who threw potted plants against walls while I packed my things.
And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad anymore.
I straighten my spine. “That’s not what we said, Trevor. We said—”
“So now you’re calling our five-year-old daughter a liar?” He doesn’t even let me respond before holding his hand up. “Actually, don’t bother answering that. Save it for court. I’m sure they’ll love it.”
I stand frozen, watching him retreat. The second he slips into his car, I finally take a full breath.
Charlotte’s hand finds mine and gives a quiet tug. She looks up at me, tilting her head. “Mommy? Why did Daddy look so mad and hold your arm like that?”
My heart twists painfully. The thought that she even saw that, saw him like that, and is being sucked into the middle of something so big I barely understand myself… it’s tearing me apart.
I kneel slowly, looking into her eyes as my hands rub her arms soothingly. “You know, sweetie, sometimes grown-ups get frustrated. You get frustrated too, right?” I start to explain softly.
She nods. “Uh-huh.”
“Right, so when you feel frustrated, what do you do?”
“I cry and find you.”
Tears prick my eyes at that, but I blink them away.
“That’s right, baby. You find Mommy,” I say, my voice breaking.
“But sometimes people don’t know to do that.
Sometimes their emotions feel too big, and they don’t think about what they’re doing.
So that’s why it’s always important that if you feel like your emotions are too big, you find someone, okay? ”
She nods again. “Like Ana or Jax?”
I sniffle, a tear slipping as it rolls down my cheek. “Exactly, baby. Like Ana, Jax, or even Grandma when she’s over, too.”
Charlotte nods, then wraps her little arms around my neck without saying a word. I pull her in tight, pressing a kiss into her hair and letting my eyes close for just a second.
“I love you so much,” I whisper into her temple.
“I love you too, Mommy,” she mumbles into my shoulder.