Chapter 3 #2
I close my eyes, letting out a sharp breath.
I’m sure he did promise. He’s just not good at keeping those lately.
It’s his loss, but she’s not going to see it that way.
She’s going to wonder for the rest of her life why her own parent didn’t want her around.
She’ll probably project that onto every relationship she has, constantly wondering if they actually love her or if she’s just another obligation.
Maybe she’ll spend the rest of her life searching for someone to choose her.
And maybe she’ll never find that, and she’ll be alone forever, second guessing why she’ll never be enough.
That thought makes me sick to my stomach. She deserves to feel wanted and loved. She deserves to be her parents’ first priority.
I swallow down the lump and the stake, plastering a big fake smile on my face.
“But…” I add, reaching out to hold her hand. “Nana’s coming over to spend the day with you. That’ll be fun, right?”
She nods, lifting the corner of her mouth, but not really smiling.
When she walks back down the hall to her room, there’s a little less pep in her step.
Fuck it. I dial him one more time. I don’t know why but there’s something about being able to say I called five times that’s just a bit more satisfying than saying I called four.
The first time he let my daughter down, a storm began to brew under my skin, and it hasn’t settled since. Every time he stands her up—we’re at three now—I miss him a little less. My heart hardens toward him with every tear that rolls down her rosy cheeks.
My mother lives right down the road, so by the time Maggie’s back to her room, she’s already ringing the bell.
When I open the front door, she’s on the porch dressed like she’s the one with a photoshoot today.
“Hi, sweetheart!” she coos, kissing my cheek as she saunters into the house.
“Hi. Thanks for coming. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
“It’s no problem. You know I’ll never turn down my baby girl,” she says, entering the house without taking her black heels off at the door.
I cringe at her use of my baby girl. Her constant need to make up for the lack of parenting she provided Shane and me by overstepping with my child is one of many reasons I keep my distance.
She makes her way farther into the house, making a beeline for the coffee pot I forgot to turn off this morning and flips the switch. It’s too late anyway, the smell of burnt coffee already fills the room.
“I’ll let Casey know I’m here. I’m sure he’ll want to pick her up at some point,” she says.
Rolling my eyes, I bite, “If he wanted to see her, he should have shown up when he said he would.”
She pours what’s left of the brown liquid down the sink before rinsing it out and putting it in the drying rack. “You should cut him some slack.”
Here we go.
My mother lives in this delusional 1950’s world where if a man puts in even the most minute amount of effort, a woman should be grateful. Fuck that.
“I’d cut him some slack if he wasn’t such a selfish son of a bitch.”
Huh, I guess I’ve figured out how to be pissed.
She faces me, crossing her arms. “Casey’s a good man. You’re being petty.”
“Petty? He cheated on me!”
“Yes. He made a mistake, but he’s been very good to you. You could have it a hell of a lot worse.”
“Yeah, and I could have it a hell of a lot better.” I grab my purse, slipping it on my shoulder. “Or better yet, how about not at all?”
“Oh boy, here we go. Back to the, I’m never dating again act? Ashton, it wasn’t cute when you were eighteen, and it’s not any cuter now.”
I let my arms fall to my sides, and groan. “Can we not do this? I’m already late.”
She throws her hands up. “I’m just saying—”
Without turning back, I storm across the living room to put on my shoes. I love my mother, but she has a special way of getting under my skin. I think she might do it on purpose.
My phone buzzes with a text from Casey.
Sorry. Busy with work.
I roll my eyes. I’m not stupid. He uses work as an excuse because how can you be angry with someone for being at work? But when he says work, it could mean any number of things. Sometimes it’s meetings at the office, other times it’s a stupid golf trip.
It makes me want to scream.
I like to imagine myself really letting him have it.
If I were the version of me from my daydreams, I’d tell him to go fuck himself.
I’d tell him, “I’m too good for you, and you were terrible in bed.
” When I picture it—and I do picture it often—I don’t let him get a word in.
I just fling insults without a care for how much it might hurt him.
Sometimes I even convince myself that I might be able to do it for real one day—but I don’t.
I text him back.
Okay.
Every conversation I have with him, I leave wishing I’d been meaner.
After an emotionally charged visit with my attorney, I say goodbye to my mother without disclosing any of the details before pouring myself a bowl of cereal while Maggie naps on the couch.
My mind reels.
I never needed an attorney until Casey and I separated, but Mallory and I have become well acquainted since I hired her.
Especially considering my husband’s been a giant pain in the ass every step of the way.
He tried to cut me off from all our accounts—she quickly put a stop to that.
Thank God because the last thing I need added to my plate right this minute is financial struggles.
He even demanded I give him back the Escalade because it’s technically in his name. I threw him the keys. My attorney could have put a stop to that too, but honestly, I don’t want the stupid thing anyway. My new Honda Accord gets way better gas mileage and is easier to park.
Jess eyes me suspiciously as she waltzes in the front door. “Hey…”
“Hey,” I mutter, not lifting my eyes from the few Froot Loops floating in my bowl.
Dropping her things at the door, she kicks off her shoes and pads toward me with bare feet.
“What did Mallory say?”
I shake my head, blinking a few times. I’ve cried more than I’d care to admit today.
My attorney explained that I could hire someone to clean out the house so I wouldn’t have to go back.
The more she explained it, the more my stomach churned.
I hate that town, but I hate the idea of someone else touching her things more.
Her house was the one place I felt safe and loved as a child, and now it’s all I have left of her.
Before our parents split, Shane and I used to stay there for the weekend sometimes.
It was a reprieve from the fighting. Then they divorced, and we started staying with our dad in Ravens Ridge every summer.
Eventually, when he wasn’t allowed to have us unsupervised anymore, Gran took us those summers instead.
I was devastated when I left that last time.
It felt like I was losing my home, but Gran and my mother insisted that coming back was a bad idea.
I still saw her when she’d come to Raleigh to visit, but there were many times I’d wished I could just jump in the car and go to her.
Particularly when I was having a tough time with something.
The squeezing in my chest feels a lot like drowning. Jess slowly lowers herself into a chair, watching me closely.
Swallowing, I sit up a little straighter. “She said we could do an estate sale. That everything could be sold that way.” My shoulders sag. “I wouldn’t have to go back to clean it myself.”
She runs a hand down my arm. “That’s good! That’s what you wanted, right? To not have to go back?”
I shrug. I don’t know what I want. That’s a lie.
I want Gran. For her to wrap me in a hug and tell me everything’s going to be okay because I’m not sure anymore.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again.
It feels like I’m being pulled apart at the seams, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but I’m so tired of getting stronger.
Facing her, I clear my throat before saying, “I don’t know. When I think about her house being gone, about not having anywhere to remind me of her…”
Tears spill over, and I wipe them away to no avail because more keep coming. Lifting my eyes to hers, I finish by saying, “I don’t want someone else to clear out her things. It’s all I have left—”
My shoulders shake, and I drop my face to my hands. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around me, and I sink into her hold.
“I’m so sorry, Ash.”
When I speak again, it’s broken. “I need to say goodbye.”
Her hand runs over my hair as I cry into her shoulder.
My last conversation with Gran wasn’t even about anything that mattered.
We talked about a stupid book I’d just finished the night before.
I thought she’d like it, and I spent the last twenty minutes I spoke to her rambling about something that didn’t amount to anything. And now I’ll never talk to her again.
She pulls back.
“I need more time with her. I’m not ready to let her go, Jess.” I suck in sharp breaths because I might actually suffocate.
I still need her. I know I’m an adult, but I’m not raised—not enough to be without her.
My heart aches. It’s a dull gnawing that started when Nik called to tell me Gran was gone.
It’s slashed and ripped at my insides every day since, but the moment I considered letting someone else erase what’s left of her from this world, it flayed me open.
That house feels like the last piece of her—a piece that should be mine. A final piece that I desperately need.
“You’ve already made up your mind?”
My chin quivers as I nod. There was no conscious choice made.
I’m not doing what I want. It’s what I need.
Even if it hurts, even if it gives me no closure and I leave wishing I still had one more piece of her, I need to do this.
I need to say goodbye even if it’s hard.
It’s the only way for me to be close to her ever again, and I can’t give that away.
“Are you sure?”
“I have to.” Blinking, I wipe my face, the tears retreating with my decision. “I need to be with her. Maybe now more than ever.”