Chapter three
Wendy
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
My eardrums threaten to burst from Taylor's shrieking indignation, so I pull the phone away from my ear.
Taylor’s always been fierce for her loved ones. I once saw her literally snap her teeth at Ryan Kersh when he called me a disgusting name after my pregnancy news broke at school.
The next day, he showed up at school with a busted nose, courtesy of Atlas. Taylor had snarled that he got off lucky because she would have maimedvery particular partsof him.
"I wish I were," I mutter, balancing my cellphone between my shoulder and cheek as I grab two bunches of bananas.
Liam's been going through bananas like it's his job, while Noah prefers clementines in his lunch bag. That will change next month, though.
While Liam is steady with his food preferences, Noah's changes by the month.
"It was humiliating, Taylor. Dr. Anderson was fantastic. I thought she would be a good fit. I thought—"
"You thought your husband would show up after you reminded him a million times," Taylor sighs. I can picture her pacing back and forth in the salon’s backroom. "Fuck, it's like he'spurposefullydoing this. That's the only explanation I can think of for his idiocy."
"Taylor," I start, my throat tightening so much that I have to force the next words out. "I think I'm done."
Taylor sighs deeply again on the other line, and her voice is low when she responds.
"You hung on longer than I would have, because my impatient ass would have been done six months ago. You're a fucking trooper, Wen."
"Not a trooper," I correct, steering the cart out of the produce and down the snack aisle. "A pathetic doormat."
"You're not a doormat!" She hisses at me, continuing before I can protest. "Doormats would let this continue and let it keep hurting their children. Doormats would beg their husbands for attention that should be freely given. You didn't beg; you set a boundary. He couldn't do the bare fucking minimum. Don't insult yourself because your husband's head is firmly up his own ass."
"I don't understand what happened," I say, rubbing my forehead against the migraine threatening to bloom. "I had thought that maybe it was worry about his brother. You know that Silas wasn't doing well after Carrie's death, but... anytime I asked, he said he wasfine. He just... he disappeared."
"I'm sorry, Wen."
"Me too," I sigh, moving my cart out of the way of Mrs. Stephenson, Diane and Emmett's kind old neighbor. She smiles happily at me, unaware that I'm unravelling on the inside. I smile back, like always, and tell Taylor, "Anyway, I have to finish grocery shopping and then prep for the week before I pick up the boys."
"Do you want me to send you my aunt's info?"
My stomach twists, and I snap my eyes closed against the threat of tears.
Taylor's aunt, Imani, is a family law lawyer. She had brought her up once a couple of months ago, when I had confessed what was going on at home, and asked me if I wanted her number.
"Maybe a good kick in the ass for Atlas?" Taylor had suggested, but I declined. Stupidly, I still had hope. I still wanted to try therapy. I still thought I could fix this.
Family law. Custody. Courtrooms. Divorce.
All these ugly, necessary words that are now becoming myreality.
"Text it to me, please," my voice barely reaches above a whisper, and I quickly wipe away the stray tear that’s fallen.
"Will do. I love you, Wen."
"Love you too, T," I reply before hanging up and tossing my phone back in my purse.
Closing my eyes, I take two deep breaths, in slow, out slow, regulating myself before I get back to my grocery shopping. No matter if I feel like falling apart, my boys still depend on me.
I can't just check out.
