I shake my head. I know her terrible pull-out couch from our movie nights, but it’s sweet of her to offer. “I’ll let you know if I need it.”
The drive back to Aconite Ales Brewery is more automatic than I would like. My head is in such an emotional fog; I’m so used to driving back and forth for endless last-minute grocery trips that I barely register most of it. I pull into the back loading bay like I usually do and turn off the engine, but that’s as far as my body carries me. I clutch the steering wheel. What am I going to do?
Sit in the car for several minutes, apparently. I don’t have the courage or recklessness to say fuck it and just get things over with.
It’s strange to not be greeted by Aiden when I go into the brewery. Instead, I have to carry in a half-dozen trays of prepped food myself. It leaves me feeling off kilter.
I grit my teeth just to hold it together. I’m emotionally raw. It would be so easy to just fall back into what our dynamic was before, just friendly clients and caterer. But I can’t just gloss over the fact that she was the woman who haunted my marriage, the mother-in-law who hated the thought of me.
On the one hand, I’m sure it’s no easier being on her side of the phone, not knowing why any of that happened. On the other, I take some relish in knowing our true relationship, when she doesn’t. I never got any closure for why she disapproved of me.
Feeling seizes in my chest. As much as I hate who she is, I can’t ignore that I genuinely liked her. I liked that she thought my recipes were creative, that she praised my cooking, and that we could chat for a while. She likes me in the way I wanted someone my mother’s age to like me. She thought I was a cool young person with genuine talent, instead of mildly disappointing.
And as for Aiden and Logan, they’d been like what I always imagined having brothers would have been. I felt safe around them and like they would look out for me.
Maybe that’s a weird relationship to have with your clients. It just kind of happened.
Someone must have brought over the trays Aiden took into the Hayes’s kitchen this morning, a cool condensation on the counter around them, indicating they’re still cold. Somehow it feels like it happened a year ago.
It’s hard not to notice there’s also a bonus check left for me on the clean, stainless-steel kitchen island.
“For the wedding catering. It wasn’t part of your original contract. I wouldn’t want you to go uncompensated,” Deanna says from the doorway while I was eyeing the extra zero.
She’s always been generous, but I imagine today’s offstage drama affected her decision while writing it.
I doubt she would have put it here if she’d known I was her ex-daughter-in-law.
I stare at the check, wondering if it’s worth staying here, to slip back into that life of having it held over my head that I just wasn’t worth it to him. I doubt I’ll find the answers I wantedeight years ago, but maybe it’ll be worth it just to watch Shawn squirm.
Closure is a well-paying dish, it seems.
8
Shawn
I’m not eavesdropping. I’m really not.
The thing is, you can’tnoteavesdrop in this house. At least, none of the wolves can avoid it. It wouldn’t matter if I was up in the attic, I’d still hear every word exchanged between my mother and my ex-wife.
Despite everything that went down the other day, Elise is still going to work for my mother and cater my brother’s wedding, it seems. And despite all the growling and snapping at each other we did, when I circled back to grab my things and figure out how to get to Laura’s apartment, my mom had come downstairs and handed me a folded set of sheets and a pillow with a glance towards the living room couch. It wasn’t an olive branch, but a silent offer to keep the peace until after the wedding.
For the first hour or so of Elise’s car being parked in our driveway, I’ve done a really great job of keeping my promise that I would stay away.
Leaning in the hallway near the kitchen isn’t the most subtle of choices for not-eavesdropping, but it’s the only one where I can catch Elise’s expressions, reflected in the stainless-steel refrigerator door. She’s got her arms crossed around herself, and she shifts her weight every so often, her face dipping in and out of view.
“You can tell me what the matter is. I’d sooner put him up in a hotel then make you uncomfortable,” my mom is saying, in a tone gentler than anything I’ve ever heard from her before.
I nearly scoff out loud. Of course that would be the answer. It’s not like I’m family or anything.
Elise shifts back on her heel, putting just a few more inches between her and Deanna, her reflection coming back into view. I can see the uneasy tension in her cheek. “I don’t really want to get into it, but that’s not necessary.”
“Are you sure? He doesn’t have to be here.”
“It’s fine, really. I’m sorry I had a little freak out, but I would just really like to get back to work and pretend it didn’t happen.”
Even without seeing it, I can imagine the tightness in my mother’s jaw. The number of times I’d tried to place a boundary and watched my mother clasp her hands and nod like she was agreeing to respect it. I can’t imagine how long this is going to last.
I should have come up with a cover story with Elise. My family is all going to want to know. And they’re all just going to keep asking until one of them pries the answer out of us.
