26. Ember #3
My pulse took off. A cold sweat broke out over my skin.
It was an email from a law firm I recognized from the contract Ember and I had signed almost two months ago. The subject line read, “ACTION REQUIRED: NOMINATE BANK ACCOUNT FOR DISBURSEMENT OF FUNDS.”
Another email came through a minute later. This one read, “PETITION FOR DIVORCE FROM EMBER JANE KNIGHTLY.”
My vision blurred, and my hands shook so hard the phone slipped out of my grasp.
There was a crack in my chest, and three weeks’ worth—eleven years’ worth—of emotions spilled out of me.
They rocked me, tearing a hole through me so all I could do was grip the steering wheel and squeeze my eyes shut until it passed.
A noise slipped through my clenched teeth, a keening, pained, animal sound.
She’d left me. No—I’d chased her away. I’d made her leave, because I’d made her feel worthless and unappreciated. I’d ruined the one good thing that had happened since Tanya died, and I’d done it because I was terrified of losing her.
I’d thought it was easier to choose to be alone than to have Ember leave me.
But I was wrong. It hit me like a truck: Ember was ending things between us.
Somewhere, buried in the block of ice that had encased my heart, I’d been holding onto a thin thread of hope. That she’d choose me, despite how I’d treated her. That she’d love me. That she’d come back.
Something wet dropped onto my jacket, and I realized I was crying and I couldn’t stop.
I wiped and wiped and wiped at my cheeks, but the tears kept coming.
They blurred my vision and made me dizzy.
They hurt. I gasped, struggling to get control over myself again.
Reaching for the ice and feeling nothing but a raging inferno of pain.
I’d pushed her away, and now she was snipping the last thread that bound us together. I’d done this. I’d hurt my daughter, myself, and the woman I loved because…
Why?
What was wrong with me?
Tanya wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want me to live this half-life in her honor. She wouldn’t want me to deprive Darby of someone to love and care for our daughter in her absence. She would grab me by the shoulders and shake me for being so dense.
I stared ahead, seeing nothing.
What the hell had I done?
I’d lost Tanya. I’d lost Ember. I was losing Darby.
The glove compartment fell open as I yanked the lever. I found enough old fast-food napkins to clean my face, then I doubled back on myself and parked outside the school.
The receptionist gave me a wide-eyed look but nodded when I asked her to call Darby. My knee bounced as I sat in a hard plastic chair, my head snapping up as Darby shuffled into the office. She looked at me, and her eyes narrowed. She was wary of me.
Because I’d hurt her.
I hadn’t listened. I hadn’t seen her.
I’d put this distance between us.
The size of my fuckup was monumental. I didn’t know if I could fix it.
Inhaling sharply, I stood and nodded to the hallway. Darby followed me out of the office, crossing her arms. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, her eyes shifting to the side to take me in.
God, she looked just like her mother when her mother had been furious with me. How could I have thought that we’d lose our connection to Tanya? Darby was half Tanya! She always would be!
I knelt in front of my daughter and took her hands. “I’m sorry, Darbs. You don’t have to play piano anymore.”
She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. So suspicious of me, and I deserved it. “What changed?”
How could I explain the past hour? Seeing Sofia, and knowing that Darby would turn into her if I didn’t cherish the person she was instead of the person I wanted her to be. Getting those emails, and knowing I had only myself to blame.
My chest ached like I’d been kicked by a horse. I squeezed my daughter’s hands. “I changed,” I said. “Ember was right when she said you were old enough to make some decisions for yourself. You’ve never liked piano. I should’ve listened a long time ago. I’m sorry.”
Darby straightened. Her eyes brightened. “Really? So I can go to Vikki’s party?”
I nodded. “I’ll call Gabi and see if you can ride to the cabin with them.”
“I need a costume!” she shrieked.
I laughed, pulling her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me—the first hug my daughter had returned since Ember had left.
I felt the tears pressing against my eyelids, but I wouldn’t cry in my teenage daughter’s school hallway.
Never mind the piano thing—that would be completely unforgivable.
With her head resting on my shoulder, Darby gave me another squeeze. “Thanks, Dad.” She sniffled, pulling away to give me a tremulous smile. “I really hate piano.”
I laughed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She studied me, biting her lip. “Does that mean you and Ember are getting back together? Because you realized she was right, so that fight you had is over?”
That felt like another kick to the chest, and I hid the impact by clearing my throat. I stood and blew out a breath. “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “But I’m going to find out.”