8. Sabrina #2
The course was crowded with families and couples and teenagers on dates. Killian paid for our round over my objections, and I let it go because fighting about money in front of Ivy seemed worse than accepting his card.
Ivy bounded ahead to the first hole, a bright green monstrosity with a windmill that spun at irregular intervals. Killian fell into step beside me.
“Thank you for this.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for her.”
“I know. Still. Thank you.”
I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying not to look at him, trying not to notice the way his forearms flexed when he picked up the putter, trying not to remember what those hands felt like on my skin.
We played. Ivy was terrible at mini-golf, which she compensated for by declaring herself the winner after every hole regardless of the actual score.
Killian was surprisingly good, sinking shots with an engineer’s precision while explaining the physics of trajectory to Ivy, who nodded seriously and then hit the ball directly into the water hazard.
I missed easy shots because I couldn’t concentrate. My eyes kept drifting to that mark on his neck.
“Your turn, Mommy!”
I stepped up to the hole with the pirate ship. The goal was to get the ball through a tiny doorway in the hull and out the other side. I lined up my shot and swung.
The ball went wide and bounced off the ship’s anchor.
“Almost!” Ivy cheered.
Killian was watching me with a small frown. “You’re tensing your shoulders. Try relaxing your grip.”
“I don’t need golf advice from you.”
“It’s mini-golf.”
“I don’t need mini-golf advice either.”
“Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”
I took my second shot. It went in, barely. Ivy clapped like I’d won the Masters.
We made it through half the course before Ivy started flagging. Her eyelids drooped, and her swings got lazier, and by the time we reached the lighthouse hole she was leaning against Killian’s leg and yawning.
“Someone’s ready for that nap,” I said.
“No I’m not.” She yawned again. “I’m watching the lighthouse.”
“You can watch it with your eyes closed.”
“That’s sleeping, Mommy.”
Killian picked her up, and she went limp against his shoulder almost immediately. He carried her toward the exit, and I followed, our game abandoned.
By the time we reached my car, she was fully asleep. Killian strapped her into her car seat with practiced efficiency, tucking her elephant blanket around her and kissing her forehead.
He closed the door gently and turned to me.
“She seems okay. Considering.”
“She’s confused. She keeps asking why you’re not at the cabin with us.”
“What do you tell her?”
“That Mommy and Daddy are taking a break. That we both love her. That none of this is her fault.”
“That’s good. That’s the right thing to say.”
“I’m aware.”
We stood there in the parking lot, the afternoon sun beating down on us, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“So. Did you have a nice morning?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Before you came to find us. Did you enjoy your smoothie?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Cordelia was at the Juice Shack. She ordered two drinks. One of them was your weird green concoction that no sane person would ever consume voluntarily.”
Killian’s face went blank. “She what?”
“You heard me. Two smoothies. Strawberry and your disgusting health drink. She said she was meeting someone.” I gestured at his neck. “And I see you’ve been having a great time since our marriage apparently means nothing to you.”
“What?” He touched his neck, confusion clear on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“The hickey, Killian. The very obvious hickey on your neck.”
He stared at me for a moment. Then his hand pressed against the mark, and understanding dawned.
“It’s a mosquito bite.”
“On your neck. In the exact shape of a mouth.”
“Yes. I was on the porch last night. The screens have holes. I got eaten alive.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And the smoothie? The one Cordelia ordered? Was that a convenient coincidence too?”
“I don’t know why Cordelia ordered anything. I haven’t talked to her. I haven’t seen her. I’d cross a street to avoid her.”
“Really? Because she seemed pretty confident that you were meeting her.”
“Well, I wasn’t. She’s lying, or she’s playing some game, and I don’t know what it is, but I’m telling you the truth.
” He stepped closer, his voice urgent. “Sabrina, I know you have no reason to believe me right now. I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt everything I say.
But I swear to you, on Ivy’s life, on everything I care about, I haven’t said a word to that woman since before you and I met. ”
I believed him. That was the humiliating part. I stood in a parking lot and believed him, and it changed absolutely nothing.
But I’d believed him before. I’d believed his promises, his apologies, his assurances that things would change. And here we were, standing in a parking lot while our daughter slept in the backseat, our marriage in ruins.
“Great at mini-golf,” I said. “Suck at marriage.”
He flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair stopped being on the table a while ago. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be standing here fighting with you while Ivy naps in the car. I wanted us to work. I wanted us to be happy.”
“We can still be happy. Just give me a chance to explain what I was really saying that night. I wasn’t talking about not wanting you. I was talking about-”
“I don’t want your explanations.” My voice cracked. “I don’t want your excuses or your promises or your grand speeches about how you’re going to do better.”
“Then don’t take my word for it. Take a whole summer of it.”
“That is a speech about how you’re going to do better.”
“It is. I heard it too.” He didn’t look away. “I’m going to make it anyway, every day, until it stops being a speech.”
I shook my head and walked to the driver’s side door. “I have to get her back to the cabin.”
“Sabrina, wait.”
“Goodbye, Killian.”
I got in the car and closed the door. Through the window, I could see him standing there, his hands at his sides, his face wrecked.
I drove away.
***
That night, after Ivy was asleep, my phone buzzed with a text from his new number.
I’m not giving up. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do. I’m not giving up on you. On us.
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I put the phone down and went to bed.