The feeling burned in her chest.
She was thrilled with David making a spectacle of himself in front of everyone, but her boys had to be dying of embarrassment, and she couldn’t enjoy that.
“I’ll be right back.” She stood and walked down the bleachers, heading quickly to the dugout.
Levi was in the doorway, staring out at his dad, who was having a total meltdown, and Jaden was deep in the dugout, probably hiding.
When Levi saw her, his whole face lit up for just a moment. Like when he’d been a little boy. Like when he wasn’t angry at her.
Her heart clenched tight.
Then his expression dulled.
She moved closer to the fence. “Good game.”
“We lost.” He looked down.
“You did great, though.”
“You came,” he said.
She took a sharp breath, words gathering low in her throat and getting caught there. Why would he ever think she wouldn’t? That had something to do with David, she was sure. But this wasn’t the time or the place to ask. “Of course I did.” Her throat was tight, her words hushed. “I wouldn’t miss it, sweetie. I love watching you play.”
“I’m ... I’m glad you’re here.” But he didn’t come closer, and she knew there were a hundred potential reasons for that.
Him being mad at her. Him not wanting David to see him talking to her. Him not wanting his bros to see him talking to her—which honestly would have been true before the separation, so she didn’t push.
But she did wave at Jaden in the dugout and take the win when she got a chin tilt in response.
It was, in fact, almost normal.
It wasn’t good enough, though, because they weren’t coming home with her afterward. Why was this the choice? Hanging on to her self-respect, trying to make a better future. She could sacrifice herself for her sons, but she couldn’t sacrifice them on the altar of public perfection.
She didn’t want them to grow up to treat women this way. She didn’t want this narrative—about how she didn’t matter apart from David—to be the thing they believed, and she was already part of why they believed it.
Because she had, for so many years.
All she could do now was try to fix it.
Without embarrassing them. Without shouting that she loved them in front of all their friends or making anything worse because their dad had just given the slapstick silent-film performance of a lifetime in front of the whole team.
Part of her clung to that. To the hope they would see him more clearly now.
She walked away from the dugout, and Nora and Daisy fell into step beside her.
“I fear,” Daisy said, “we’re witches.”
The word hit Soraya funny in her chest. And yet, she felt powerful. She felt in control.
She wasn’t sure if she’d ever experienced that before.
Strength and power were wonderful, but being able to laugh at David like the ridiculous man-child he was ... that was gold.
Because she wasn’t the one who should be embarrassed. He was the one who had sent that picture of his penis in a church bathroom. Hadn’t even been able to wait until he got home. Who sat there and listened to a sermon and got horny?
She put her hand over her mouth.
“What?” Daisy asked.
