Of course Camille had front-row seats reserved for her family, and for us. As we slid into the pew, Jason leaned over and whispered, “How much do you think they donate each year?”
I stifled a laugh. “Too much.”
As the mass began, the choir filled the church with hymns so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes. I tried to stay present, to feel grateful for what I had, but the weight of everything, the separation, Will, the unknown, all of it pressed down on me. A single tear escaped, and I quickly wiped it away.
After the mass, we joined the throng of parents outside the gate, waiting for the kids. I saw Will in the crowd, looking polished and handsome in a crisp suit. Seeing him made my heart catch, like my body remembered something my mind was trying to forget. His sister was with him, along with Kelly, with who must have been her boyfriend in tow. My stomach twisted as Will glanced my way. I turned my head, hoping Jason hadn’t noticed.
Camille caught the moment, though. She squeezed my hand. Her silent reassurance grounded me. When the kids finally appeared, Bebe and Ivy walked hand in hand, their faces lit up with wide smiles. Ivy gave Bebe a quick hug before darting to Will’s sister, Sarah, who scooped her up with ease.
Sarah glanced over at me. Her expression was warm as she mouthed,Have a nice summer.
The simple kindness of the gesture struck me. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if Will thought Jason and I were still together.
I glanced in Will’s direction, and caught his eyes, holding it for just a beat longer than I should have. My stomach tightened when I turned to Jason. His jaw was visibly clenched when Ivy ran to Will and hugged him. Camille, always perceptive, stepped in before the tension could build. She turned to Jason with impeccable timing, asking him a seemingly random question about New York. Her lilting French accent worked its usual charm, steering his focus away from the moment. She saved me from what could have been an unbearably awkward situation.
As we walked back to the car, I couldn’t shake the thought that this might be the last time I’d see Will for a while. I ached at the thought, but I knew I had to let go—even if it broke my heart.
That afternoon, we took the kids to lunch, the illusion of normalcy intact. Jason was attentive, joking with the kids and asking about their summer plans. For a moment, it felt like we were a family again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the weekend ahead, about the conversation we’d have with Bebe and James.
When we got home, Jason left to take a call, promising to return Friday evening. I watched him go with the heaviness creeping back. I had my phone in my hand, and for a split second, I considered texting Will.
Instead, I called Meredith.
“I made it through mass without a full breakdown,” I said.
“Well, that’s something,” she said. Her voice was light. “Did the hymns get you?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But seeing Will didn’t help.”
She was quiet for a beat. “Are you going to call him?”
“No,” I said quickly. “There’s too much going on and I’m barely separated.”
“Sure,” she said, “I understand.”
After I hung up, before desperation could creep in again, I turned my attention to the kids. “How about a movie night?” I asked. “You can pick the snacks, and we’ll have a sleepover in my room.”
Their cheers filled the house, and I felt a flicker of peace. We ended the day piled in my bed with popcorn bowls between us and laughter chasing away the shadows. For now, it was enough.
CHAPTER 51
THE BEARS THAT BIND US
NATALIE
Friday rolled around, bringing with it a weight I couldn’t shake. My chest ached, but it wasn’t because of Jason or Will. It was because of my kids. I was about to shatter their world and the guilt was suffocating. Every fiber of my being screamed to stop, to take it all back, and to keep pretending. I told myself I could go through the motions forever if it meant sparing them this pain. Maybe Jason and I could find our way back. Passion and connection weren’t everything, were they? Stability, security, maybe those were enough.
The day dragged on like a slow march to the inevitable. I tried to distract myself by taking the kids to a small children’s zoo in Irvine. They brought a Polaroid camera and used up every last film cartridge, snapping pictures of goats, bunnies, and each other.
“We’re going to make a photo album for Daddy when we see him tonight,” Bebe said excitedly.
Each time they mentioned tonight or Daddy, my throat went dry, and nausea threatened to overtake me.
At one point, I texted Meredith.
Natalie: I can’t do this.
Meredith: You must. You’re strong enough, Nat. It’ll all work out in the long run, even if it feels impossible right now.
