And Beau was still there, standing exactly where I’d left him, as if he were unable to move. His head was hanging down, looking at the rug, his hand at the back of his neck. He looked like a ruined man. Broken.
I felt nothing, seeing him like that. Or so I told myself.
His head snapped up on my approach, his eyes narrowing as he saw me with bags.
“You’re l-leaving now?” he stuttered, as if he’d expected me to stay. “You’re not going to say goodbye to Clara?” Accusation filled his tone.
My blood boiled. “No.” I wished the single word could’ve been fashioned into a weapon. Suddenly so angry, I wanted to use that word to bludgeon Beau.
But not really.
Because even then, as I bled internally from the emotional wounds he’d inflicted, I could not stomach causing Beau pain.
“No. I’m not going to say goodbye to Clara because I’m not leaving Clara.” I forced my eyes to meet Beau’s. I would not be downtrodden, pathetic, weak. I would not let him see how he broke me.
“You may want me out of your life, but you’re not pushing me out of Clara’s.” There was iron in my tone. Instead of sobbing as I packed, I’d made decisions. About my future. I’d made plans. Desperate for control and agency, I’d made lists.
“I don’t want you…” Beau sighed, running fingers through his hair. “I would never take Clara from you,” he whispered. Hesaid it like Clara was mine. Like I had some kind of claim over her.
I felt it. In my soul, I felt that Clara was mine. I felt that I’d be connected to that girl my entire life. But I’d been ashamed of those feelings, that I wasn’t entitled to them. She felt like mine, but she wasn’t. I didn’t carry her. Didn’t share her blood.
Yet she was my heart, nonetheless.
How remarkably sweet and equally evil of Beau to say, then, of all times, that I had a claim over Clara. When he was tearing us all apart.
“She’ll be starting kindergarten soon.” I summoned the strength to keep my voice even. It still trembled a little, despite all my effort. “I’ll take care of her until then. I’ve already been approved to transfer to the nursing school thirty minutes away, so I can still see Clara, take care of her on the nights you’re at the restaurant.”
Beau’s eyes widened in surprise then his face softened, gentled. He stepped forward, to do what, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t have him too close. No way I could survive that, not without falling to my knees and begging him to take me back.
Even though that’s what I wanted. To break down. Plea. But if I had to beg for a man then he didn’t deserve me in the first place. I repeated that like a mantra.
“I don’t need anything from you,” I told him firmly. “Aside from telling me that you understand me, I don’t want you to say anything else.”
I was proud of my tone. I was channeling my inner Calliope.
Beau’s jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides. I knew he wanted to argue. Fight back. Say … what, I didn’t know. Couldn’t care. He’d said everything that mattered. I didn’t want to hear more from him. Couldn’t.
“We will be cordial, for Clara’s sake,” I continued. “It is up to you if you would like to tell her why I’m gone, or I can.”
Beau continued to stare at me. “I’ll tell her. But won’t you stay?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m not staying here another minute.”
“Clara will want to see you when she wakes up. She’s used to seeing you in the morning.”
As my gaze tinged red with fury, I forced myself to take steadying breaths. The prospect of not seeing Clara, in PJs, hair mussed, swinging her legs on the barstool made me want to double over. The realization that I wouldn’t get to cuddle in her bed and read her stories. That she wouldn’t come into bed with me and Beau first thing in the morning….
I cut those thoughts off, preventing a pained whimper from leaving my mouth. Tilting my head up, I regarded Beau.
“She was used to a lot of things that are going to change,” I told him icily. “Things that wereyourchoice in changing. Don’t lay them at my feet. Whatever pain Clara feels comes from you.”
Beau flinched. Rightly so. Let him bathe in the acid of that truth.
“Bring Clara to the park tomorrow.” I hefted my bags onto my shoulders. “We’ll make snowmen, and I’ll … I’ll talk to her there.”
Beau pursed his lips and stepped forward. “You’re not carrying all those bags on the icy sidewalk.”
“You lost the privilege to try to decide what I will and won’t carry.” I clutched on to the bags for dear life.
