Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Cara
I’m surprised to see Hayden’s car in the driveway when the driver he hired drops us off in front of the house. I know Hayden legitimately has some pressing things on his plate, work-wise, and the plan was for him to drive up for the closing and then go back to the city.
I’m even more surprised when we haven’t even gotten up the porch steps before Sherry’s car pulls up and stops out front. She honks the horn and waves, her grin visible even from the porch.
“Sherry and I are going to go see my house,” Gin says, waving back at her friend. “We need to measure for curtains and figure out where things will go.”
It feels abrupt—she hadn’t mentioned this plan to me—but Hayden had clearly been right. With the painful part behind her, Gin is excited to move on. “That sounds fun. Do you have the keys?”
She pats her handbag and then kisses my cheek. “And you and your husband can celebrate in peace.”
She’s gone before I register she’d called him my husband and not that man this time. It’s progress.
Of course, progress doesn’t matter at this point. Before long, Hayden will be my ex-husband and his former mother-in-law’s opinion of him won’t matter.
And on that depressing note, I go inside, only to find Hayden in the living room, obviously waiting for me. “I thought you were going back to Boston.”
He shrugs. “I am, but I wanted to see you before I go. Where did Gin run off to?”
“Sherry picked her up and they’re going to roam around the new house. She seems happy now that it’s over.”
“I hope you are, too. I know it’s been hard, but it’s done. Your mother—and therefore you—are free of this house.”
“It’s not over yet. Sure, my mother is excited about her new house, but that’s because this house is mine now, as it was always meant to be. But when we decide to end this fake marriage and she finds out the house will be yours and yours alone, it might all blow up in our faces.”
“There won’t be a thing she can do about it, legally.”
I shake my head, not sure why I expect him to understand. “Maybe that’s all that matters in your world, Hayden. But she’s my mother. And Sumac Falls is my home. You can go back to Boston, but I’ll be stuck living with the fallout.”
He closes the distance between us and takes my hands in his. “That’s not a worry for today. Or tomorrow. Judging by the amount of stuff Gin owns, it’s probably not even a worry for next year.”
He gets the laugh out of me, and then wraps his arms around me. I relax into the hug, soaking in the strength of his warm body. His hands don’t wander. He doesn’t nuzzle my neck or try to kiss me. Hayden simply holds me until my breathing calms and the tension seeps out of my muscles.
“Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to the diner and have cheeseburgers and salty fries.”
“I had a cheeseburger and salty fries for lunch,” I mumble into his shoulder. “It was a big lunch, actually, but I wouldn’t mind dessert for supper.”
“I’m always up for dessert.” He pulls back and drops a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“No, you need to head back to Boston. What about Penny?”
“Penny is being taken care of until I get there. Even if we take our time over dessert, I won’t be too late getting back to the city.”
I feel like I should argue more. He’s had a long day, too, and he still has that drive ahead of him. But I’m reluctant to let him go, and not only because I really don’t want to be alone in the house right now.
Signing the papers has triggered a hurricane of mixed emotions swirling around in my head.
Relief that I’m not going to lose any more sleep worrying about the house falling down around us or calculating just how low a thermostat setting we can tolerate in the winter.
There’s also loss, not only of the only home my family has known for generations, but with a resurgence of grief for my dad.
Sorrow for my mother. Elation I’m almost free.
And seriously conflicted feelings about the impending end of my fake marriage.
Even though I’ve known from the jump ours is a marriage in name only, it’s hard to imagine my life without him. Once the divorce is behind us, will I ever see him again? Based on the last almost-two decades, probably not.
And the fact my heart is aching in advance is proof I’m already screwed. But I can’t resist just a little more time with him today.
The diner’s busy, but since we’re not having a full meal, we sit on the stools at the counter. I order the strawberry shortcake with vanilla ice cream and extra whipped cream. Hayden chooses the cherry pie with chocolate ice cream.
“Really?” I ask when Lorene goes to hand off the order to whoever’s making desserts. “Cherry pie with chocolate ice cream?”
“Trust me, you have to try a bite.” I must look skeptical because he chuckles. “Do you think chocolate-covered cherries are weird?”
He has a point. “Okay, I’ll try one bite.”
We end up sharing both desserts—the bowls between us—and he wasn’t wrong about the pie and ice cream combo. And I appreciate that he doesn’t talk about the house. There’s no discussion of a timeline for Gin or about which part of the renovations he’ll tackle first.
We just talk about desserts and Penny and random things. It’s a perfect way to end a rough day, and when he drops me off at home, it’s hard not to ask him to stay one more day. Or two. If he’d brought Penny with him, I might have caved.
Instead, I smile and wave as he drives away.
Fifteen minutes later, Gin walks through the door. She’s practically glowing, and she talks more in the next hour than she has in the last week. With measurements in hand, she talks about what furniture she’ll need and other things she’ll have to bring with her.
Days later, when it comes time to actually move my mom’s things to her new home, I’m not surprised she’s suddenly a lot more mercenary about what she considers hers and what’s just junk collected by the family over the decades.
I don’t even care that she’s leaving the bulk of the mess for me to deal with. That’s pretty in character for her, honestly, and it’ll be easier for me to sort donations from trash if she’s not taking everything back from the trash pile for her emotional support pile.
Your father and I bought this lamp at a yard sale on the way home from playing mini golf for your sixth birthday. All it needs is a new electrical cord and it’ll be good as new.
There’s no doubt everything in the house and garage has a similar origin story. And if she can’t remember it, she’ll probably make something up. The woman does not like to let go of anything from the past.
She seems content to make a fresh start in her new house, though, and the faster we can make it feel like home, the faster she’ll forget about the junk in the garage.
Meanwhile, I’m alone in the house, waiting for Hayden’s return. And dreading the next phase of the plan.