Chapter 22
The boys were screaming, and Danika had a headache. She sat alone on the steps of the Big Room, watching them attempt to play
mini golf. They’d gotten the set last year for Christmas: a nine-hole felt course complete with plastic flags and clubs and
rainbow-colored balls. It was one more attempt by Bill to make them love golf. They typically paid it no mind, but Chat had
motivated them to use it this summer.
Cooper still preferred to arrange the balls in patterns and hit them apart. He liked how it sounded, like a firework, he said.
Max liked the golf aspect at least a little. He’d swing and miss, swing and miss, pick up the ball and plop it in the hole.
Even now, Cooper kept taking breaks to tell Danika about his latest picture book. Since art camp, he’d been drawing fervently.
He’d completed his fairy-tale series, another about squirrels living above a neighborhood, and now, he was plotting a story
about a magic stingray that gives a boy superpowers. “The whole thing takes place underwater,” he’d explained.
Danika thought it was charming, but she didn’t want to hear about it today. Her head was pounding. She’d slept like hell. She’d told Bill she’d left the party because she felt sick. Too much wine. He hadn’t pried, hadn’t come home until eight a.m.
Danika couldn’t stomach the thought now, that both Chat and Bill were lying to her. Betraying her. She felt confused and hurt—but
she knew she needed to harness her anger. She knew, from experience, it was better to feel mad than heartbroken.
Danika was glad they were gone today. They were playing an invitational in Apple Valley and wouldn’t be back until late. Even
so, that morning, she’d waited until the last minute to go downstairs. She’d barely looked at them as she ushered the boys
to the playroom. She sensed their paranoia, all their lies and half-truths pulling them under.
Danika let out a breath when they finally left the house. She needed time to think.
“Mom, look at this.” Cooper squatted near the fake sand trap, a patch of tan felt. Inside, he’d lined up the balls in a spiral.
Max stumbled over and grabbed the blue ball at the center, and Cooper screamed.
“Boys.” Danika rubbed her temples.
“You can’t have that one.” Cooper pried the ball from Max’s fist while Max wailed.
Danika went to them, again explained the concept of sharing, and told Max he could have the green ball instead. She felt queasy
as she settled back onto the stairs. Yet as she watched Cooper help Max set his ball at a new hole and practice his swing,
her heart constricted.
How dare they put the boys at risk? Everything they did—herself, Bill, Chat—was supposed to be for them. Max and Cooper were the center
of their lives. Who did Chat think he was, bringing a stranger into their house? And how was Bill being so reckless, risking
their family’s finances, security?
Danika needed answers. She needed to fix this. She owed it to the boys. She owed it to herself. She had worked so hard to build this life—to build the stability she never had. She wasn’t going to let anyone throw their
lives into turmoil. Finally, her fury was eclipsing her pain.
Danika picked up her phone and scrolled through her messages.
She called Joshua Mike.
Joshua Mike had been surprised yet elated to hear from her. He said he had a party that evening, but he could meet her the
next night, Monday. He said name the place, he’d be there.
As little patience as Danika had, she was glad to have time to prepare. Especially because there was another conversation
demanding her attention—she needed to confront Chat. She was relieved they already had plans to meet at the model home that
same Monday; he was going to pick up the framed art prints from the Galleria, then come help her arrange furniture. Alone
in Briar Ridge, they’d be able to talk for real.
At least the model home was coming together, Danika thought. At least one thing was going right. Danika had leaned into the
Japandi style: cozy yet minimal; refined yet natural. She’d anchored the living room with a long, low-slung tan couch, stunning
suede pouffes, a circular wooden coffee table. The kitchen was also gorgeous, immaculate—all stones and blues and teak. The
house had perfect balance. She’d love to see anyone else try to re-create such peace.
In fact, as soon as Danika stepped inside the model home that Monday afternoon, she instantly felt better.
The house was light and pure and untainted.
She knew people would be drawn to it, this fresh start.
She was glad it could only get better from there, too; she hadn’t even started on the accents.
She couldn’t wait to hang artwork, place vases and plants and lamps.
Chat arrived exactly on time. He knocked before pushing open the door, lifting the large frames wrapped in craft paper up
and over the doorframe.
“Delivery,” he called before spotting her. Being at Briar Ridge always felt more intimate, so far away from their Aldon Lakes
life. Chat smiled softly as she stood up from the couch. They hadn’t been alone since Saturday night—hadn’t truly spoken since
before the restaurant opening.
It was awkward between them, and Danika was glad they each had somewhere to focus as Chat moved farther inside: Danika went
to the prints and started tearing away paper, and Chat, who hadn’t been in the model home since the furniture arrived, began
walking through the rooms. Danika felt unsettled as he walked around—it felt like watching someone read something you wrote—and
Danika stared into the Hopper prints, distracting herself. She tended to go for more basic art, but buyers needed to feel
something. And everyone was moved by Hopper’s pieces. He was also famous enough for people to recognize the prints even if
they couldn’t name the artist, which made them feel smart. It was a winning combo. Danika studied Summer Evening, the melancholy couple on the porch.
Danika tried to ignore the tension peaking between them, but even as Chat went upstairs, she still felt it. She suspected
he knew she’d learned about Augie, too—that Danika was aware she’d been in the house. He was acting more shy than normal.
Even now, as he returned to the living room, he put his hands in his pockets, sheepish.
“Danika.” He swung his head at the ground. “This is incredible. Really. It’s amazing. I couldn’t picture it all before . . . when you bought all this.” He waved to the furniture. “But seriously. I’m so impressed. It looks perfect.”
Danika allowed herself the praise, hiding her relief.
“Thank you. We still need the accent pieces, but those will come later. Did you know people glue down accessories for open houses? They literally superglue frames and candles and everything to the tables so people won’t
steal them.” Danika hadn’t realized she was this nervous. “I really hate to do that.” She glided her hand over the end table,
fingering knots of wood. “It’s unfortunate, how impossible it is to trust people.”
Energy swelled through her as Chat’s ears went fully maroon. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.
The plan had not been to bombard him right off the bat, but the friction between them was too obvious. Danika took it as a
sign of their closeness; they didn’t know how to act fake with each other. Their bond was real.
“Chat,” she sighed, suddenly exhausted and eager to get this over with, “I know she was there. In the house.”
Chat looked at his feet. “I figured. I really don’t know what to say.” His voice was quiet. “I’m so sorry. It was a mistake.
I never should have invited her over. Or I should have at least asked you first. I feel awful about it.”
Danika tried to remain steady, not allowing herself to focus on the words: invited her over. It was easier to place the blame on Augie, her conniving plans.
“I only thought, because the boys were asleep, and it was so late . . .” Chat trailed off.
“I didn’t think you’d care, or that anyone would get hurt.
I wasn’t thinking. I really, really don’t want to break your trust.” His voice cracked, and Danika suddenly worried he might cry. It was strange how now, their
roles felt reversed. Though hadn’t she always been the one in charge?
“Here, come sit.” Danika walked to the couch.
They sat on either end, and Danika curled her legs up under her, trying to find the right words—when Chat started talking.
He held a white sample pillow in his lap and flung his hands around, explaining how it had all happened so fast, so last minute.
“I should have asked you, but I didn’t want to bother you.” He leaned into the couch. “You seemed so stressed that night.
I’ve also been meaning to ask . . . are you okay? Did something happen? I’m sorry I didn’t check in earlier.”
Danika tucked her chin down. She didn’t want to make this about her. Especially because she hadn’t gained enough control of
the situation to share anything—to be sure of anything. She wouldn’t see Joshua Mike until later that night.
“Look, Chat, it comes down to this: I need to be able to trust you. With the boys, our house. You’ve been so fantastic this
summer, but this was so out of line. You blatantly broke the contract. Bringing a . . . girlfriend around the boys. A stranger
into our house.”
Chat grabbed at the back of his neck. “I know, I know.” He swallowed, and Danika watched his Adam’s apple rise, click, fall.
“I messed up. It won’t happen again. I’ve really appreciated this summer. All you guys have done for me. It’s been so amazing
to be here, and I only ever want to help you, to make your life easier. I hope you can forgive me.”
Danika adjusted her legs. Despite his apology, she could only focus on the fact he hadn’t corrected her when she’d said girlfriend.
“I need you to do better.” She was unable to broach the subject directly—to ask what she really wanted to know: Do you love that girl? She felt sick with nostalgia and jealousy.
Danika knew young love.