Lewis’s eyes narrow at me, hurt. We can’t be together for more than five minutes without screwing something up. Without fighting. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do.” He takes a step closer slowly, and I feel my breath deep in my stomach as our eyes lock. “And I don’t care what any divorce decree says, I still care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
I shouldn’t care what he says. I shouldn’t believe him.
“Taylor needs us both,” he clarifies, dropping eye contact, and just like that, the moment is over.
Gently, I reach out and touch his arm. It lasts only seconds, but a bolt of lightning dashes through my muscles regardless. “I will take care of her. You know that.”
“I know. Of course I do. I just…I really hate this.” He doesn’t have to clarify which part of this he means for me to agree.
“We’re going to be okay. All of us.” I desperately want to believe that.
He puffs out a sigh, eyes squeezed shut. When he opens them, he’s going to ask me something, I can read it on his face. “Can I just…could I stay here for another night or two? Please. It would make me feel a lot better. Just to make sure the two of you are safe.”
I press my lips together, ready to fight it every way I can. The longer he stays, the more it hurts.
“Please,” he begs, seeing he’s got a foot in the door. “Corinne, listen, I promise I’ll go when you ask me to, but I’m asking you…not to ask. Just for another night. Let me stay. Let me see her. I’ll…I could take her to the Apple Store today, replace her laptop, and give you time to work on the house, have a moment to yourself. I swear I’ll bring her back by dinnertime, and we can have dinner together as a family. Like old times.”
I sigh. I was always the one who had to set the boundaries. The one who had to be the bad guy, even in this divorce apparently. “It isn’t like old times anymore.”
“Yeah, but we get to make our own rules,” he says.
“Please, Mom.” Taylor appears in the hallway again, not trying to hide that she’s been listening. She walks toward the island, hands clasped together. “Please. I need a new laptop. Please, I promise it’ll be fine.”
“The closest Apple Store is going to be a few hours away,” I tell them both. “And the storm’s supposed to get really bad tonight. You shouldn’t be out in it.”
“That gives you several hours to work on the house. I promise we’ll be home before the storm hits. And hey, when we get back, I can help if you want,” Lewis offers.
I bite the inside of my lip, staring at them both. I’m outnumbered here, like usual. Besides, I do trust Lewis when he says he’ll bring her home. I just hope it isn’t a mistake.
“I want her back by dinner. Well before the storm.”
“Promise.” Taylor squeals, bouncing up on her toes before she disappears to her room. “Oh my god, thank you!”
Lewis smiles at me, and it’s familiar and painful. A knife to the heart. Like old times.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CORINNE WILDE - PRESENT DAY
Whether or not I like it, having Lewis and Taylor gone for the day makes me more productive than ever.
In a way I really hate, it does feel like old times. When she was little, Lewis and I would rotate weekends to take her out and go on adventures. Every other weekend, one of us would take Taylor and spend the whole Saturday doing something fun with her. We’d go to city museums or parks or the zoo.
The other parent got the day to do whatever they wanted—relax, catch up on work or house stuff, nap, or even go on adventures themselves. I usually picked a book and spent the whole day reading, while Lewis would either go out with his friends or spend the day napping in his recliner.
During the wild toddler and childhood years, it was our way of keeping each other sane.
Now, with the house quiet and all to myself, I feel it again. The immediate peace that comes with being alone. I used to feel so guilty about it, like it meant I was a bad mom or didn’t love my child enough, but I know now that being alone is how I recharge. My body and my mental health require it to keep me at my best.
With the house empty, I’m able to get every single box unpacked, the minimal decor we brought hung up, and theremaining furniture placed where I want it. The internet technician arrives around three, and it takes every bit of an hour to get it set up, but once he does, I can’t resist the urge to sit down on the couch and check social media. By which I mean…Lewis’s…social media.
It’s the first time I’ve done it since the day the divorce was final, and I can’t help wondering if it’s changed. If he’s now a completely different person online. I open Instagram, but to my surprise—and relief—the last picture he posted is still the one of Taylor and him at Christmas.
I don’t know what I expected—a photo of him and his new girlfriend? A photo of him on a tropical vacation? It’s only been a few days, and yet it feels like a lifetime. He feels a lifetime away.
I close the app and return to the bedroom to get my laptop. With everything put away and the house quiet, I should really attempt to get a chapter or two written. My agent will be expecting my latest manuscript to be turned in next month, and I’m really struggling to make it happen.
Before I’ve typed the first word, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Greta.
