That night, I sleep well for the first time in years, not because I’m happy, but because I finally know what I need to do.
The next morning, I drop Mia at preschool, kiss her cheek, and drive to a lawyer with no ties to the Montgomery or Masters name. By noon, the contract is drafted: Kevin keeps everything but Mia. I want no money. I just want my daughter.
I spend the afternoon hunting for a home and a place to turn into a coffee shop, but not in Cedar Hollow. My heart needs a fresh start.
I find an abandoned shop in a town called Lander, Wyoming. I call the listing agency and make an appointment for tomorrow. Then I book a hotel nearby. I’ll look for a house for Mia and me once I’m there.
Before picking up Mia, I swing by a pawnshop a town over. I leave behind my wedding ring, engagement ring, and all thejewelry Kevin gave me. Each piece sinks into the murky water of a new beginning. Then I open a bank account in my name alone. Enough to start my coffee shop, and enough for an advance on rent. Freedom tastes like cold metal and possibility.
That evening, while Kevin showers, I slip a tiny tracker into his wallet. The pulse is no louder than a whisper in my palm. He leaves for another“business dinner,” and I quietly pack two suitcases, clothes for me, clothes and snacks and her stuffed bunny for Mia. I tell Sam to watch her for a while and slip into my car, the tracker humming in the glove compartment.
I follow the tracker on my phone, breath slow, steady. The dot crawls across town, slows, then stops. I park a short distance away and watch through the windshield. Kevin’s car is impossible to miss. He’s pressed against a blonde outside of the hotel, kissing her like a man who’s never been married.
I don’t cry. I raise my phone. Click. Click. Click.
Back home, I’m helping Mia into her shoes just as Kevin walks through the door, smelling like perfume that isn’t mine.
“She should be in bed,” he says, loosening his tie.
I don’t answer. I pick up my phone and send him the photos.
His phone pings.
His face goes white.
“Summer, who sent you this?” he asks, panic bleeding through the polished veneer.
I tilt my head, silent.
“It’s not what it looks like. It’s photoshopped…” he stammers, running his hands through his hair.
I step closer and hand him the contract on a clipboard, lawyer’s seal stamped and ready.“No Photoshop. I took them myself. I’m leaving you, Kevin.”
He skims the pages, eyes darting, jaw tight.“You can’t do that!” he explodes.
Mia looks up, startled. I smile at her, soft, sure. Then I meet Kevin’s eyes again.
“This can go two ways,” I say.“You sign and keep your empire, or I take you to court, bleed you dry, and hand those photos to the press. What’ll it be?”
He curses, shaking, and grabs a pen from the desk. The signature is quick, like ripping off a bandage.
“You’re not going to ask for money?” He sounds bewildered, hurt as if the idea itself is foreign.
My heart splinters, not for the life I’m leaving, but for Mia. He didn’t even fight for his daughter.“I don’t want your money,” I tell him.
I scoop Mia up, grab my purse, and walk out feeling shockingly light.
“Where are we going, Mommy?” she asks, buckled into her seat.
“We’re going on a new adventure,” I say, and this time, the smile is real.
“Yay!” she cheers.
The house disappears behind me in the rearview mirror.
Later that night, I sit with my laptop in a hotel room while Mia sleeps next to me, scanning real estate listings.
A small cottage just outside Lander catches my eye, just big enough for us, with a garden Mia could run through. I picture her there, laughing, arms wide, chest free. I picture myself behind the counter of my new coffee shop, baking, creating, living for myself and her. My chest tightens with hope. It’s scary. Unknown. But it’s ours.
