“You listen to me now, Aurora Jane,” Gran said, her tone brooking no argument. “You do whatever the hell you wanna do. Whatever makes you happy.You. Not your momma or your daddy. Not your sisters or your daughters. Not even me. You’ve spent your whole life attemptin’ to please other people. First your daddy and then that no-good—and thankfully now ex—husband of yours. When are you gonna start pleasin’ yourself?” She reached over, placing her hand on top of Rory’s and giving it a squeeze. “Don’t let this be ballet all over again.”
And with those final words, Gran turned away, flagged down Finn for the check, and paid before Rory could even reach for her purse. After settling the bill, they strolled back to Rory’s car—the greasy burger and fries finally soaking up the excess alcohol enough to sober her up so she could drive. All the while, she kept turning Gran’s words over and over in her mind.
All these years, Rory had convinced herself she’d quit ballet because she didn’t love it quite as much as she’d thought. That’d it’d been one hundred percent her decision with no other input. But that wasn’t the truth. She’d quit because her daddy didn’t regard it as worthy. She hadn’t majored in what she’d wanted to in college for the same reason. She’d allowed Sean to corral her in theproperdirection, practically lining up hobbies for her that he deemed appropriate. Did she even really like half of them?
With a long exhale, she unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat. Those were a whole lot of questions for today, and she didn’t have the energy to tackle a single one right now.
“This was fun, but thanks to the detour from our usual spot, I’m runnin’ late to get the girls,” Rory said without any heat in her tone as she backed out of the parking space.
“I think you mean thanks to Finn’s fine Bloody Marys. That boy certainly knows how to make ’em, doesn’t he?”
Rory couldn’t argue with that. “They definitely pack a punch.”
“Only ’cause I taught him how to make ’em properly. One of the best days of my life was when that boy showed up to give your daddy a run for his money. Honestly, only a bunch of fuddy-duddies would think alcohol consumption would turn nice folk into hooligans. Idiots, all of ’em—your daddy included.” She shot Rory a look loaded with meaning, no doubt referencing their lunch discussion. “At least now I don’t have to drive thirty miles just to get some pep in my step.” Gran did a little shimmy in her seat.
“Do that often, did you?” Rory asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Gran shot Rory a smile that promised to be hiding a thousand secrets. “As for my great-granddaughters, I’m sure they’re just fine. And that ex-asshole of yours can stand to wait around awhile.”
Rory laughed, then covered it with a cough. Heaven knew her grandmother didn’t need any encouragement in being impolite. Gran had never liked Sean…from the first time Rory had brought him home. She’d sat in her rocker, looking on with narrowed eyes, studying him. What had she seen that Rory had missed?
Part of her wished she knew…maybe even wished she’d answered differently the day Sean had proposed. When he’d dropped down to one knee and smiled up at her with such confidence, promising a future exactly like she’d always dreamed. All the while she’d stood there, wondering if this was really it. If this was what she wanted for the rest of her life. Ifhewas what she wanted.
It didn’t take long to arrive in Rory’s old neighborhood. Huge trees lined the picturesque street. The lawns were manicured impeccably, seasonal flowers punctuating each front step or porch. Children’s laughter greeted her even through the closed windows of her car, and an ache settled in her gut. She’d had the ideal life, living here. Successful husband, two lovely children, a beautiful, well-kept house…and a bone-deep loneliness she’d never revealed to a soul.
She hated coming back here and being reminded of it all. It wasn’t the house or the neighborhood so much as it was the fact that after everything, after all she’d put into this life—the blood, sweat, and tears; the time and effort she’d showered on the house solely to take her mind off her absentee husband; the committees and volunteering and dressing just so—all that perfection had been for nothing.
Rory nearly passed her old house thanks to the moving truck currently residing in the driveway. A pit formed in her stomach as she braked, then reversed in the street to park along the curb. Sarah Beth’s car was parked next to the moving truck, taking up Rory’s old place in the driveway. She stared up at the house, at the moving truck, at this picture-perfect life she no longer had. A picture-perfect life her former best friend was, apparently, ready to step right into.
“You go ’head and stay in here. I’ll fetch the girls,” Gran said, reaching for the door handle.
Before Rory could take a second to consider, she gripped Gran’s forearm. “No.” The word came out harsher than she’d intended, and she cleared her throat, softening her tone. “You had three Bloody Marys, and the last thing you need is to trip over that crack in the sidewalk, fall, and break a hip. Momma’d kill me if I broke you when we were just supposed to go out for lunch.”
Gran stared at her, a knowing look on her face, and dipped her head in a small nod. While Rory appreciated Gran’s attempt to shield her from this, she needed to be a big girl and face it head on. This was her life, whether she liked it or not. And the asshole she’d once called her husband would be part of it forever because of the two beautiful girls they shared. She wasn’t about to set a precedent of avoidance so soon—and certainly not whenhewas the one in the wrong.
She stepped out of her car, the older model so out of place in her former neighborhood full of the newest and best everything, and smoothed a hand first over her hair then down her sundress. Impeccably dressed, as always. Old habits died hard.
Her heels clicked on the pavement as she strode up the front path, her head held high. To anyone watching, there was no doubt she looked the part. Though, inside… Inside, she was splintering.
Splintering over the fact that this was supposed to be her house, her family, her life. She’d worked so fucking hard to make this the perfect home for a husband who hadn’t spared her a moment of his time. She’d put everything she had into that, thinking,hoping, that maybe if she did, he’d be happy.
Trouble was, she’d spent all that time worrying about his happiness and never once thought about her own, just like Gran had said.
She rang the doorbell, the answering chime the exact one she’d painstakingly picked out years ago. The door flew open, and out spilled the girls—Ella first, followed by a grinning Ava.
“Momma! You’ll never believe the news!” Ava said, bouncing on her toes, her body practically vibrating with happiness.
Rory pulled them both in for a hug, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Why don’t y’all go get in the car? Gran’s waitin’. I need to speak to your daddy for a moment.”
That was the understatement of the century. She was going to chew him up and spit him out. She shouldn’t have expected decency when it came to him, but she’d had the misplaced notion that he’d at least have the common courtesy towarnher if he planned to move someone in to her old home.
“Hey, Rory.” Sarah Beth stood on the other side of the screen door in ratty cutoffs and a tank top, her hair in complete disarray, looking like she belonged at a frat party, not in the best neighborhood in Havenbrook. And wasn’t that just irony at its finest? That Rory, with her tasteful makeup, smooth chignon, and perfectly pressed sundress was the outsider now.
Rory straightened her shoulders, a muscle ticking in her jaw. She nodded stiffly to her former best friend. “Sarah Beth. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Sean, please.”
“I’m afraid he’s not here right now. He’s at my old place, helpin’ my brothers with a few things.”
Fantastic. So that bitch had been alone with her daughters for who knew how long. Of course, Rory wasn’t able to stop that kind of thing—their daughters were best friends, after all, and had been since diapers—but she’d minimized it as best she could.
