I don't even need to think. All I've been doing is thinking. What I need right now is to act.
For my sons, and for myself.
I nod.
"Yes."
Imani's smile spreads across her face, slow and proud, and looking like someone who's smelled blood in the water.
And I find myself smiling too, happy that I have this fierce woman on my team.
Chapter Ten
Wendy
November
The waiting game is hard.
Counting helps.
It's been four weeks since Atlas has spoken a word to me. He seems to have pulled himself even tighter in whatever shell he's hiding in, retreating too far for me to reach now.
These days, he comes home even later and is out of the house before I'm up. That's fine.
It's been four weeks since I started my job. I still love it, something that surprises me every morning that I wake up and don't dread the day ahead.
Sure, I've had to step back on being Noah's Room Mom, which he's a little sad about. I've been relying more and more on Diane and Emmett for childcare, but everything is still going really well.
The two paychecks I received filled me with immense pride, and I cried when I saw the direct deposit hit my account that first time.
It's been three weeks since I met with Imani in her office, finally saying out loud what I've been pushing down for years.
It's been two weeks since I signed and returned all my paperwork for the separation, each signature a quiet act of reclaiming Wendy.
It's been one week since Mabel told me how happy she's been having my help at the store.
After she threatened to throw her computer in the dumpster out back, I've started running through the store’snumbers for her in the back office, just double-checking since she knows I have some experience. The fact that she trusts me with her store—her baby—makes me feel good.
And in six hours, Atlas will be served the separation paperwork and will go to his parents' house.
They will watch the boys while Atlas and I talk when he gets home. Then they’ll drop them off at home after Atlas has packed his things, and I will talk with them.
Emmett had already said he would personally ride back to their house with Atlas to make sure he left our home formally. I know Atlas most likely won't resist, but I think his father wants to have a few words with his son anyway.
Maybe I could have gone that route first, having his parents speak with him, but the more I think about it, that's just more work for me.
And if only his parents can get through to him, like he's a misbehaving teenager, essentially ordering him to actually be a husband and a father, well... I think that's something irreparable.
So, I'm spending my day off at the hair salon, getting my first haircut in... way too long.
Taylor’s nails scratch my scalp at the shampoo bowl as she rinses out the gloss. I never dye my natural ginger hair, but Taylor added shine for the new Wendy I’m creating. She shuts off the water, towels my hair, and guides me to her station.
Taylor works at her mom's salon, where she's swept hair and answered phones since she was a teenager. She's been cutting my hair since we were thirteen, using scissors stolen from her mom's kit. I like to say that I helped make her a child prodigy.
She's been cutting the boys' hair since they were toddlers. Atlas and I tried taking them to his barber once, but Noah cried, and my stubborn Liam hated his haircut so much he refused to look in the mirror for days.
The boys feel safe with Aunt Taylor.
