“He’s required to provide for you while you’re still married. Frankly, it’s illegal for him to kick you out until after the divorce, but it’s not like you want to stay in that house with him, anyway. He’s going to cool off and realize it benefits him to get this over with at the least expense.” She’s so calm and matter-of-fact, I start to believe her.
“I think your baby daddy is here,” Nicole says, looking up from her phone. She flips it around so I can see the security system notification with a live video of an agitated-looking Ian on the porch. The doorbell rings a half-second later.
“You might as well answer that. He’s not here for me,” Heidi says dryly. I scrub my tears away and push up from the couch. Behind me, I hear her add toNicole, “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of him while she’s staying here.”
“Thank gods you’re all right,” Ian says when I answer the door. Then he takes in my puffy eyes and red nose and folds me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. “Oh, sweetheart. I called and called, and when you didn’t answer, I was worried that the worst had happened.”
“It did,” I hiccup against his solid, comforting mass. “He’s going to cut off the girls’ tuition if I talk to them at all. I can’t afford it without him, and I don’t want them to lose their chance at an education. But I also don’t want them to lose their m-m-mom.”
“I know, baby,” he says soothingly. “I’m not going to let that happen. We’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 31
Ian
The room Julia’s staying in at Heidi and Nicole’s house is small but cozy. A TV dominates one wall, and the sofa bed opposite is already made up with mismatched flannel sheets and a fluffy comforter. Julia’s overnight bag sits on a chair in the corner, and someone has cleared space on the bookshelf for her things. It’s cozy and safe, and that’s what she needsright now.
“You doing okay?” I ask, hovering in the doorway while Julia sinks onto the edge of the bed with a deep sigh.
She nods, but her hands are trembling. I can smell the stress hormones rolling off her, sour and sharp beneath her usual sweet-peach scent. Richard really rattled her tonight. When she described how he put his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him, a large part of me was tempted to go over there and tear his throat out with my teeth.
“Offer stands to take you to file a police report.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to make it ugly.”
He’s already made it ugly, but I bite my tongue.
Heidi appears behind me with a stack of towels and places them on a side table. “Use Matthew’s bathroom upstairs if you need a shower. The one down here sucks. There are extra blankets in the hall closet if you get cold, although I think Nic piled three on there already. Leftovers are in the fridge if you get hungry. I’d tell you to help yourself to the wine rack, but that’ll have to wait until January.” Smiling sympathetically, she pats Julia’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, hon. This is just one bad day.”
“We’re heading to bed,” Nicole adds from where she’s leaned against the door frame. “But if you need anything, you know where to find us. Feel free to stay over if you want,Ian.”
I catch Nicole’s eye and give her a grateful nod. They’re giving us privacy, and I appreciate it. Julia needs time to decompress before I decide whether to head home. She’s still looking too pale and wobbly for my liking.
After they disappear upstairs, I crouch in front of her and take her cold hands in mine. “Did you eat today?”
She nods. “I told you, I’m not a meal-skipper. We ate turkey pretty early, though, and I didn’t have much stomach for it.”
“I bet you’ll feel better if you have something.” I squeeze her fingers. “Stay here. I’m going to make you a plate.”
The kitchen is unfamiliar, but the Thanksgiving leftovers are easy to locate in the packed fridge. I find some chamomile tea bags in the cabinet, too. While the leftovers reheat in the microwave and the tea steeps, I warm some oat milk on the stove, adding honey and a pinch of cardamom.
When I return to the TV room with the tray, Julia looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. She’s been weeping. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.” I set the tray on the coffee table that’s acting as a nightstand and sit beside her on the bed. “Drink the tea first. It’ll help you relax.”
She takes a sip, and some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “This is really good. I don’t usually add milk and honey to my herbal teas.”
“My mam used to make it like that for us when we couldn’t sleep.”
She picks up her fork and samples the plate of leftovers, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. By the time she’s finished, her hands have stopped shaking.
“Feeling a little better?” I ask.
“I am.” She sets down the fork and looks at me, her dark eyes vulnerable behind her glasses. She clears her throat awkwardly. “Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. I know you’d rather be hanging out with your family.”
“You’re my family.” I brush a strand of hair back from her face and shift so I’m sitting against the back of the sofa and pat the space in front of me. “Come here.”
She gives me a questioning look but scoots over, settling between my legs with her back to my chest. Her hair tickles my chin, and I breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
