14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Caroline
Caroline’s mother refilled the glass of water on the bedside table, moved Caroline’s phone next to it, propped the crutches within reach, and frowned at her.
“I could call out,” she said.
“From work?” Caroline asked.
“Yes.”
“You won’t. The diner needs you, and I can manage.”
Her mother glanced at Caroline’s swollen ankle raised on the pillows Hayden had arranged.
“You said that yesterday.”
“Yesterday, I was surrounded by pieces of crib. The crib is finished now, so I’m already safer.”
Jemma appeared in the bedroom doorway with her purse over one shoulder.
“That isn’t how safety works,” her aunt said.
“It might be. We haven’t given the crib enough time to prove itself.”
Neither woman laughed. Caroline’s mother checked the water again as if its position might have changed.
Jemma reminded Caroline that there was bread, cereal, and fruit.
They told her not to use the stove. They told her not to carry anything heavy.
Her mother made her promise to call if her ankle hurt worse or if she felt anything strange with the baby.
“I promise,” Caroline said. “Go. Both of you. I’m pregnant with a sprained ankle, not trapped under a building.”
“You sound like yourself,” Jemma said. “That’s mildly reassuring.”
They finally left. A few minutes later, Hank called something about an errand from the hall and went out too. Caroline listened until the front door closed.
The apartment was finally peaceful.
Then she needed the bathroom.
Getting out of bed required shifting the pillows, pushing herself upright, and waiting for the sudden ache in her ankle to ease.
She pulled the crutches away from the wall, but the pair barely fit through the gap between the bed and dresser.
She took one crutch and kept her other hand against the wall.
Her stomach changed her balance enough to make hopping a terrible idea, so she moved in small steps, putting almost no weight on her right foot.
The bathroom wasn’t far.
It might as well have been across an airport.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, her left leg was shaking from doing all the work. She held the counter and stared at the secondhand toaster. Bread was simple. Toast was the safest choice.
She toasted one slice and ate it standing at the counter because carrying a plate while using the crutch seemed unwise. Then she had to go back to the bedroom for her phone and water. She made the trip twice because one hand had to stay on the crutch.
When she finally lowered herself onto the couch, her ankle throbbed, her back hurt, and the baby had chosen that moment to press against her ribs.
Caroline put the water and phone on the coffee table and pulled a cushion under her foot. She had used the bathroom and made toast. That was all. Two ordinary tasks had left her feeling as if she’d worked a full bar shift alone.
She hated it.
The phone rang before she could decide whether she hated the ankle, the couch, or her own helplessness most.
Paulie.
Caroline almost ignored him, but curiosity won.
“Hello?” she answered the phone.
“Thank God,” Paulie said. “You and my brother have abandoned me in hell!”
Caroline closed her eyes. “Good morning to you too.”
Paulie ignored the pleasantry and launched into a full rant.
“Mother is distraught. Father is furious. Dasha has apparently suffered a personal betrayal because Hayden blocked her, which she has explained to anyone unfortunate enough to answer their phone. And everyone has decided I should fix it.”
“Hayden blocked all of them?” Caroline couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Father, Mother, and poor Dasha. I remain untouched, which I now understand was an act of aggression.”
A laugh escaped before Caroline could stop it. Her sore stomach protested the movement.
“Shut up,” she said. “You love chaos.”
“I’m an agent of chaos, Caroline. That doesn’t make me its administrative assistant.”
“You created half the trouble in that family.”
“And I’ve already contributed my share. I’m being asked to reason with four unreasonable people. Five if I include myself.”
Caroline smiled despite herself. “At least one of you is showing some self-knowledge.”
“Are you all right?”
The sudden concern in his voice caught her off guard. “I’ve been better, but I’m fine.”
“You sound out of breath.”
“I sprained my ankle.”
“How?”
“I fell while putting a crib together.”
Paulie went silent for a beat. “And the baby?”
“She’s fine. We went to the hospital. They checked her.”
“We?”
“My mother called Hayden. He was closer.”
“Ah. So that explains why he’s moved to Bakersfield and declared war on our father.”
“He hasn’t moved here.”
The correction came too quickly. Caroline looked at the finished crib through the bedroom doorway. Hayden had said he would stay as long as it took. She hadn’t asked what that meant.
“He’s staying at a hotel,” she added.
“Of course. He needs somewhere to keep all his serious suits while he performs domestic labor.”
“He cooked dinner last night.”
“Did anyone survive?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I already am.” Paulie paused. “Are you going to forgive him?”
Caroline’s smile disappeared. “No. We’re getting divorced.”
“Then allow me to help. I know several excellent lawyers who would enjoy destroying Hayden. No prenup, after all. A truly gifted one could make him regret considerably more than his choice of words.”
“You’re an awful brother.”
“I’ve never claimed otherwise.”
“Stop joking about the money.” Caroline shifted the cushion under her ankle. “I don’t want Lynch money. I don’t want the house, or his property, or some fight that lasts forever. I don’t want to punish him.”
“That seems unwise. Punishing Hayden could become a beloved family activity.”
“Paulie.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
“I made a mistake. I want to put it right without taking anything from him.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Make a mistake.” His voice lost its playful edge. “Do you really believe marrying Hayden was a mistake?”
Caroline stared at the worn carpet. A pale spot remained where she and Jemma had scrubbed after Hank was sick.
“It clearly wasn’t a good decision,” she whispered.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You never ask easy questions when you could make someone miserable instead.”
“It’s one of my better qualities. Do you still love him?”
Caroline could’ve lied. Paulie might even have let her. But the truth was already in the finished crib, the clean kitchen, and the memory of Hayden’s hand around hers at the hospital.
“Yes,” she said. “I love him.”
It hurt less to admit than she expected. The love had never left. It had only become something she couldn’t safely use.
“Then perhaps stop calling the marriage a mistake as if that settles everything,” Paulie said.
“Loving him doesn’t settle anything either.” Caroline pressed her hand against her stomach. “I’ll never be good enough for him and his parents. Even when he’s kind, they’re still there. I’m always going to be the woman they have to explain, or correct, or defend.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Very thoughtful.”
“The Lynches will never be good enough for you.”
Caroline gave a weak laugh. “You’re a Lynch.”
“Exactly. My evidence is firsthand.”
She waited for another joke. It didn’t come.
“You walked into that house and tried harder than any of us deserved,” Paulie said. “They made you feel ashamed because shame was easier than admitting they were wrong about you. Money doesn’t make them right. It only makes them louder.”
Caroline swallowed. Paulie was selfish, unreliable, and far too pleased with his own charm. But he’d never looked at her old clothes or her lack of money and treated them as a confession. Even when he’d questioned the marriage, he’d still seen her as a person rather than a problem to repair.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t become emotional. I have a reputation.”
“You ruined it years ago.”
“That’s more like you.”
They ended the call after Paulie ordered her not to fall again and Caroline told him that concern sounded unnatural in his voice. She set the phone down feeling lighter than she had before it rang.
There was a knock on the front door.
Caroline considered pretending she hadn’t heard it. Someone knocked again, twice at an even pace. She reached for the crutch, pushed herself upright with a groan, and began the slow trip across the apartment.
“I’m coming,” she called. “This is as fast as I go now.”
When she opened the door, Hayden stood there with flowers in one hand and two grocery bags hanging from the other. His dark eyes moved over her.
“Why are you standing?”
“Because nobody has invented a way to open the door by glaring at it.”
He stepped inside and put the bags down. “You should’ve stayed on the couch.”
“You should’ve called.”
“You would’ve told me not to come.”
“Probably.”
“Then calling would’ve wasted both our time.”
He put one hand at her waist and offered the other. Caroline should’ve refused. Instead, she let him take most of her weight while they crossed to the couch. His touch was careful and familiar, and she hated how much relief it gave her. Hayden settled her with the cushion under her foot.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Toast.”
“One slice?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why ask if you’ve already decided I’m guilty?”
“Because I hoped you’d surprise me.” He placed the flowers on the coffee table. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
“Caroline.”
The gentleness in her name made her more uneasy than an argument would have.
Paulie’s complaints returned to her. Larissa was distraught.
Adam was furious. Dasha was making Hayden’s rejection everyone’s problem.
And Hayden stood in a worn apartment with groceries as if none of that world required him.
“What are you actually doing, Hayden?” she asked. “Go home. Go back to New York. Your family needs you.”
He held her gaze. “You are my family.”
She lost every prepared argument.
“Your mother is upset,” she managed.
“She’ll manage.”
“Your father…”
“Will be furious whether I’m in Bakersfield or standing in front of him. I’m not leaving you alone because it’s more convenient for him.”
Caroline looked away. She’d wanted Hayden to choose her in New York, but that had been before she understood what choosing her could cost.
“I didn’t ask you to do this,” she said.
“I know.” He crouched beside the coffee table. “I’m still asking what you need.”
“Lunch,” she said before pride could stop her.
His expression softened. “Anything in particular?”
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
“I can manage that.”
“Can you?”
“Yesterday you doubted my pasta. I earned another chance.”
He carried the groceries into the kitchen. Caroline heard cupboard doors, running water, and the scrape of a pan against the stove. He found a tall drinking glass for the flowers and set them near the television, where she could see them from the couch.
Lunch arrived on the coffee table with the sandwich cut in half and the soup bowl close enough for Caroline to reach without leaning. Hayden brought her a fresh glass of water, then draped a blanket over her legs.
“You’re fussing,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t use to fuss.”
“I used to pay other people to fuss and assume that counted.”
The honest answer left her with nothing sharp to say. She dipped the corner of her sandwich into the soup. It was simple and warm, exactly what she’d wanted.
Hayden ate his lunch in the chair next to the couch.
He didn’t use the meal to ask about forgiveness or her return.
He asked whether her ankle hurt more than yesterday, whether the baby had been moving normally, and whether the cushion was high enough.
When Caroline said she was fine, he accepted it only after she gave him real answers.
After they finished, he took the dishes to the kitchen. Caroline heard him washing them, then opening the hall closet.
“What are you looking for?” she called.
“Sheets.”
“Why?”
“I’m changing the bed.”
“The bed is fine.”
Hayden appeared with folded sheets in his arms.
“You’ve said that about yourself at least six times. I no longer trust the word.”
“My mother and I can change it.”
“Your mother works on her feet all day, and you can barely cross the apartment. I can change it.”
He went into the bedroom before she found another objection.
From the couch, Caroline could see part of him through the open doorway.
He stripped the worn sheets, fitted the clean bottom sheet over each corner, and shook out the top one.
The sight was so strange she stopped pretending to watch television.
This was Hayden Lynch. He’d once hired people to solve problems before Caroline finished explaining them.
Now he carried the used linen through the main room and into the bathroom.
He loaded the washing machine, studied the controls, added detergent, and pressed a button.
Water rushed through the pipes. The machine began its steady turn.
Hayden returned to the couch and sat beside her. Caroline stared at him.
“Who are you?”
He shrugged slightly. “I’m your husband, the way I should’ve always been. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Caroline didn’t know what to say.
On the television, two women were shouting about a party neither seemed to have enjoyed. Hayden leaned back and watched with the serious focus he usually gave business calls.
“Do you understand what they’re fighting about?” he asked.
“Not anymore.”
“Good. I thought the soup had damaged my mind.”
She laughed and pulled the blanket higher. The next episode began. At some point, Hayden moved the water closer when he noticed her reaching. He stayed beside her without asking for anything.
Hours passed under the noise of other people’s grand, foolish disasters. Caroline let herself sit with her husband, and she didn’t ask when he planned to leave.