We might not have been together in a decade, but we were together for a little over two years. I know her. From my vantage point, only a few feet from where she stands, I have about five seconds before she falls apart.
I mentally weigh my options: when she does, do I stand here like an awkward jerk, or do the one thing I know she needs right now?
As soon as the first tear slides down her cheek, my heart decides for me. I close the distance between us and gather her in my arms.
I’ve lived through storms. Chloe crying is the only weather I can’t stand.
Within seconds, sobs rack her body. She fits against me like she never left, like the years in between were just some cruel chapter the universe added without our consent.
“We’ll handle it. Not pretty. Not quick. But we’ll fix it,” I whisper against her hair.
I try not to get stuck on the fact that I just said “we” when that’s no longer true. Because “we” is how this all started, and how it fell apart.
“I was supposed to have more time.” She sniffles against my shirt. Then, as if she realizes what we’re doing, she pushes back and steps away, rubbing beneath her eyes.
The absence of her body heat is like a shock to the system, I wasn’t prepared for.
“What do you mean?”
“I found a leak a couple of days ago.” She throws her arms up, exasperated. “I called my landlord, who basically told me in no uncertain terms that ‘it’s fine’ and he’d come check on it when he had time.”
She shivers, and I duck back over to the couch where I threw my coat to retrieve a blanket. I open it wide and motion her over with a jerk of my head.
“You’re soaked. Do you have any changes of clothes here?”
“Thank you. Of course. Babies.” She laughs weakly, wrapping the blanket around her gratefully.
“Babies? Is this a code word?”
This earns me another laugh, though it’s not like I was trying for one. I genuinely don’t see how babies have anything to do with this current predicament.
“They puke, poop, pee. Hazard of my occupation.” When she catches my blank stare, she continues. “I’m safe from the last two until I do naked baby poses, and then it’s every man for himself.”
“You take pictures of naked babies,” I repeat. “People pay you to do this?”
“People pay me a lot to do this, actually.” She points to several enlarged images on her walls, and for the first time, I take in what Chloe actually does for a living.
Photography wasn’t ever in the dreams we discussed in our time together, but something changed while we’ve been apart. Art isn’t my strong suit, but even I can tell she’s got an eye for this. Every frame looks like it caught a piece of someone’s happily ever after and pinned it to the wall. She’s been making beauty out of other people’s families while she holds her own together by herself.
Then, as everything sinks in again, her lip begins to quiver.
“Chloe, this is going to be okay.”
“How? Please, tell mehowthis is going to be okay.” She pulls the blanket tighter around her. “This is my livelihood, Aiden. How am I going to put food on the table? Provide Christmas for Phoebe?” The last question comes out hushed, and she crumples onto the arm of the couch as if all the strength has gone out of her legs.
My email from yesterday pops into my head again, and acrazyidea takes shape. We’re both in serious trouble when it comes to our finances and our livelihoods.
Surely that isn’t a coincidence.
If I believed in Storywood Ridge folklore, I’d say the town is shoving us into the same corner and seeing what we’ll do about it.
I need a lot of money fast, and her income stream just disappeared. Two sinking ships, one lifeboat. Or, if I’m honest,one very old, very inconvenient safety net with my father’s name on it.
A safety net I only get if I stop running from the conditions it’s attached to.
I doubt he’d find the irony in this situation as amusing as I do at the moment. He asked me to choose back then, and I’ve regretted that choice ever since. This last “choice” hasn’t ever felt like one, but now it feels like a redemption with the person who once mattered the most.
I doubt that’s what he intended when he drew up the legal papers. But for the first time since I lost him, there’s a glimmer of hope in the legalese.
