Chapter 3
THREE
MELISSA
It’s almost five o’clock—an hour and a half since Claire was wheeled into the operating room, and I’ve started to worry that something’s wrong.
The other surgeries must be done, because Troy, Olivia, Liam and I are the only people left in the waiting room.
I don’t even have my phone to distract me—I gave it to Liam so he could watch YouTube videos.
But I guess if I had my phone I’d be googling appendectomy complications, so maybe it’s better it stays with Liam.
But the waiting room doesn’t even have magazines, so my entertainment options are limited to staring at the wall, watching Paw Patrol with Liam, or watching Troy and Olivia.
Troy’s sitting on the other side of Liam, glowering at his phone as his thumbs fly across the screen.
No doubt he’s working on some critically important lawyer stuff.
Beside him, Olivia’s holding her phone in one hand while her other rests casually on Troy’s thigh.
I still don’t know what to make of Olivia.
When I first met her, I liked her well enough, but at that time she was just Claire’s figure skating instructor, not the other woman.
That’s how Troy met her too, on a Saturday morning when Liam had the flu and I nagged him to take Claire to skating.
I should have guessed something was up when Troy started offering to take Claire to all her skating lessons, since this was out of character for him.
So when they met, Olivia knew Troy had a family. But in her defense, apparently when Troy first asked her out, he told her that he and I were getting divorced. I guess he was right; I just didn’t know it at the time.
So although part of me would like to think Olivia’s a heartless bitch, there’s no doubt that Troy deserves most of the blame. For one thing, he was old enough to know better. Olivia was only twenty-one when they met last year, while Troy was thirty-four.
And part of me wants to think well of Olivia, since there’s a good chance she’ll be my kids’ stepmother.
To her credit, she seems to be good with kids, and she was a popular skating instructor.
And the skating job was just a side hustle; she’s currently studying to be a social worker, which suggests she’s got both a brain and a conscience.
That’s probably why Troy noticed her. I’m sure it had nothing to do with her willowy figure and big doe eyes.
“Troy, do you think you could give Liam your phone in a bit?” I ask. “I didn’t bring a charger, so I need to save my battery.”
“I guess,” Troy says irritably. “But I have to send some emails first. It’s been a crazy busy week.”
Troy’s always going on about how busy he is; it’s a real point of pride for him.
Of course, since I was a stay-at-home mom, I wouldn’t understand the demands of his job.
If I hadn’t promised to be mature in front of the kids, I’d make a crack about how inconvenient he must find Claire’s appendicitis, but I settle for rolling my eyes.
“Liam can use my phone,” Olivia offers. “He watches YouTube stuff?”
I almost decline, but I realize that would be childish. “Yeah, he does. Something like Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol would be great.”
Olivia reaches across Troy to hand me her phone. “I’ll let you find something.”
I look at her unlocked phone in surprise, and nobly resist the temptation to read her text messages. I don’t need to know what she and Troy have to say to each other. I pull up YouTube, find a Paw Patrol episode, and hand it to Liam, who gives me my own phone back in exchange.
“How are you liking Somerset, Melissa?” Olivia asks.
“Oh. It’s been good. I grew up here, so it’s nice to be back.”
“It’s my first time here, but it seems really pretty,” Olivia remarks. “I’ve always liked the idea of living in a small town.”
“It’s not really a small town,” I reply. “The population’s over a hundred thousand people, plus all the university students during the school year.”
Troy makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a snort. I guess compared to Toronto, Somerset’s a small town.
“I didn’t realize,” Olivia says politely. “You’ll have to give me the tour sometime.”
“Sure.”
“How’s Claire liking her school?”
“She’s only been there a week, but she seems happy.”
Olivia’s making an effort, but I wish she wouldn’t. I’ve tried to sell the kids the illusion that we’re all good friends—Mommy, Daddy, and Olivia—but it will never be true. I’m not even sure the kids buy it, but Olivia seems to think it’s possible.
“I guess Troy and I should book a hotel for tonight,” Olivia says. “Any suggestions?”
“There’s a Marriott on the waterfront that’s supposed to be nice.” If I were a better person, I’d offer to let them stay in my house, since I plan to spend the night at the hospital with Claire. But I don’t have a guest bedroom, and I can’t handle the thought of Troy and Olivia sleeping in my bed.
Since Liam has her phone, Olivia nudges Troy. “Can you look for a hotel, babe?” she asks. “Melissa suggested the Marriott.”
“Sure.” Troy taps at his phone for a minute, then announces he’s booked a suite.
“You really think the surgeon is good?” Troy asks, turning to me. I realize he’s worried about Claire too, and it makes me hate him a little less.
“Yeah, Troy, I do.”
Like many lifelong Torontonians, Troy suffers from the delusion that nothing good ever happens anywhere else. But Luke Carlton is the very definition of competent, and I’m sure he could have gotten a job as a surgeon anywhere he wanted.
When we were in high school, everyone knew Luke Carlton; he was the guy all the girls wanted to date and all the guys wanted to be.
He had a killer smile, an even better body, and a great sense of humor.
He was a natural athlete, and the first person in years to make the high school hockey team in grade nine.
His life didn’t revolve around the gym and the hockey rink, though, and he managed to stay near the top of all his classes.
With all this going for him, Luke could have gotten away with being a jerk, but he wasn’t.
If anything, he went out of his way to be kind to the kids who weren’t particularly attractive or clever.
Which is why I thought he was taking pity on me when he sat next to me in our grade ten science class.
I was the only grade nine student in the class (I was a science nerd, and had managed to work ahead), so I didn’t know anyone and I usually sat alone.
Until that fateful day about a month into the semester, when I met Luke. I’d taken a seat in the front corner and opened my textbook, and I didn’t notice Luke approaching until he spoke.
“Okay if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to me.
I was too shocked to speak, but I nodded and moved my chair a little to give him space.
He smiled and sat down, then unzipped his sweatshirt and handed it to me. “Put this on.”
I didn’t understand what was going on. Not only had Luke Carlton chosen to sit next to me, he’d given me his sweatshirt.
But I certainly wasn’t going to argue with him—if Luke Carlton wanted me to wear his sweatshirt, I would.
I slipped it on and it smelled delicious, musky and masculine.
It was still warm from his body, and even though it was far too big, I wanted to wear it forever.
And then Luke leaned in until his lips were inches from my ear.
“You have a stain on your jeans,” he whispered. “Go to the washroom, the sweatshirt should cover your butt.”
I wished the floor would open and swallow me up. I had my period, and I must have bled through my pants. I could feel a hot blush spreading across my cheeks.
“I’ll get blood on your sweatshirt,” I whispered, as I started to pull my arms out of it.
“It’s a red shirt,” he whispered with a shrug. “Leave it on.”
I nodded and glanced around the room, wondering how many people had noticed.
Luke leaned in again. “Relax,” he said, his breath warm in my ear. “No one else noticed. It’s a small spot.”
I continued to sit there stupidly, too mortified to move or speak, and he leaned in yet again. “Do you have what you need? It’s not your first period, is it?”
That was enough to spur me to action. I couldn’t believe I was having a conversation about my period with Luke Carlton, and I couldn’t endure another minute of it.
I stood and pulled down his sweatshirt, and as he had promised, it covered my butt.
The teacher was getting ready to start the class, but mercifully, he didn’t stop me on my way out of the room.
I stopped at my locker for supplies and hustled to the washroom. Luke was right that the spot was small. My maxi pad had twisted, but my panties weren’t badly stained. Once I replaced the pad, the stain on my jeans was unlikely to get worse.
But that still left the problem of the stain on my jeans. I vowed that from this day on, I would keep a spare pair of pants in my locker, and panties too, for just such an emergency. But for today, unless I wanted to fake sick and go home, I’d have to keep Luke’s shirt.
I studied myself in the washroom mirror until I’d convinced myself that the sweatshirt fully covered the stain, then made my way back to class and slipped into the seat next to Luke. He was focused on the teacher, taking notes from the board.
“Thanks, Luke,” I muttered as we packed up our books at the end of class. “I’ll wash it, of course—”
“Keep it,” he said easily. Mentally, I kicked myself. Of course he wouldn’t want it back if there was a chance I’d bled on it. I opened my mouth to offer to buy him a new sweatshirt, but he spoke before I could.
“It looks good on you.” He winked, so quickly I thought I’d imagined it, then picked up his textbook and walked out.
I thought that would be the end of it; he’d done his good deed for the week.
Guys like Luke were supposed to hang out with girls who were equally attractive and accomplished.
Girls who were in their league. I’ve always been an introvert, so although I had friends, I wasn’t overly popular.
I was good at math and science, but in the middle of the class in the other subjects.
I’d squeaked onto the cross-country team, but I was never the star, and I knew I never would be.
But the next day Luke sat next to me again, and the day after that he asked if I wanted to come over to his house to study together. The following week, he asked me on an actual date, and his mom drove us to the movies.
It was my first date, and the first of many firsts I experienced with Luke Carlton.
He gave me my first kiss when he walked me back to the door after the movie date.
That was a fairly chaste peck, with our mouths closed, but the first kiss with tongue came a week later.
I waited two years after that to give him my virginity, and I was his first, too.
Looking back, I don’t know how we managed to wait as long as we did. If I’d known how good it was going to be, it would have happened a lot sooner.
Given all this, you might ask why I broke up with him. The short answer is I had a moment of temporary insanity, but the long answer is more complicated.
My stomach growls, and I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. One of the nurses brought Liam a cheese sandwich and a box of apple juice when we were in the ER, so at least I don’t have to worry that my child is starving. And I know a little fasting won’t hurt me.
Except I’m still really hungry, so I finally cave and spend two dollars on a pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups from the vending machine in the corner.
I offer a peanut butter cup to Olivia, which she politely declines, and then one to Troy, which he declines as well. I don’t meet his eye, not wanting to see the judgment there. I know what he thinks about my sweet tooth.
Come on, Melissa, you know you let yourself go . . .
Troy threw this gem at me when I first found out about Olivia, as a justification for his affair. Ironically, he was trying to convince me to stay in our marriage (he’d vowed the affair was done), but it had the opposite effect. And a year later, the comment still stings.
Never mind that I’d managed to lose all but ten pounds of the baby weight I put on with Liam.
Never mind that although I have a sweet tooth, I’d resisted temptation more often than I’d indulged.
Never mind that I’d rarely skipped a day on the treadmill in our basement. I felt like I’d worked my ass off.
But I guess I hadn’t really worked my ass off, because it was still too big for Troy’s liking. And despite the fact that an internet calculator told me that I was at a healthy weight, I wasn’t good enough. Troy’s infidelity wasn’t his fault, it was mine, because I had let myself go.
I let Troy keep the treadmill in the divorce.
I resolve not to let Troy’s judgment cloud my enjoyment of the peanut butter cups. If there was ever a time to indulge in overpriced vending machine chocolate, this was it.
So I give Liam a peanut butter cup and keep two for myself. The first bite is so good that I can’t help myself; I close my eyes and let out a little moan.
When I open my eyes, Luke Carlton is standing in front of us, and he’s staring at me with a funny look. I jump to my feet and look at him expectantly. Next to me, Troy does the same.
“The surgery went well,” Luke says simply. “I was able to do it laparoscopically, through three small incisions. The appendix wasn’t ruptured, but it was severely inflamed, so I’d like to continue intravenous antibiotics for another twenty-four hours.”
“Thank you, Luke,” I say impulsively. Troy raises an eyebrow at my use of Luke’s first name.
“Dr. Carlton,” I quickly correct myself.
The ghost of a smile touches Luke’s lips. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in ten years, and something flutters low in my belly.
“The anesthesiologist is still waking her up, but you should be able to see her soon,” he tells us. “The nurse will come out when they’re ready for you.”
With that, he turns and walks away without a backward glance.