JULY
-Two Months Later-
“I think Ihave the last of the boxes, Charlotte.”
“It’ll be so nice to be home again,” she says. “Not that living with you and Olive hasn’t been a treat, but I miss my stuff.”
The renters across the street took an extra month to move out, which pushed Charlotte’s plans back a little. The only thing that matters, though, is that she won the court case and Don is no longer selling scripts to the underground consultants. Proving this fact was a challenge but with Lana’s well-being at stake during the very few visitations she has with Don, the judge was easier to convince with the evidence presented to him. I don’t know if Charlotte is over all of this, and I don’t think she’ll ever trust Don again but her life is slowly falling back into place and that is what is most important.
“Mom, do we really have to move back across the street? I love living here. Plus, Olive and I are like sisters, and you shouldneverseparate sisters. Don’t you know that?” Lana and Olive have been moping around the house for the past two weeks since we told them the news. It’s breaking my heart a little.
“Girls, you will only be a hundred feet away from each other. It’s hardly something to be upset about,” Charlotte tells them.
“I don’t understand. Why are you leaving, though?” Olive asks. “Aren’t you and daddy married now? Don’t married people live together?”
Olive’s questions stun me and a large pit gnarls at my stomach as I kneel down and pull her toward me. “Why do you think Charlotte and I got married, Olive?”
“You live together and you love Lana.” Her reasons are so simple, innocent, and true, but yet so far from reality.
“Honey, that doesn’t mean two people are married.”
“But Daddy, you love Charlotte, too,” she says, loud enough that both Charlotte and Lana hear. I can feel Charlotte’s gaze burning a hole into my back right now.
My conscience can’t handle many more of Olive’s intellectual life questions and assumptions. “Ollie, you’re six. How do you know what love is?”
A little smile forms over her lips as she closes her eyes and presses her hands into my shoulders. “It’s the warmth you feel when you’re around someone, like you belong together. Isn’t that how you feel when Charlotte and Lana are here?” Her question stabs right through me, as I never assumed she would be so in tune with all of this, and if I had known, I would have been more careful. I’m just not sure how I could have been more careful in this situation.
“What time is Ari coming over today?” Charlotte asks.
“I don’t know if she is,” I respond.
“What do you mean? It’s Friday. Don’t you two normally go to the gardens?”
“She’s been a little distant lately, but I guess I have been, too.”
“How so?” Charlotte pries.
“I don’t know.” I kind of shrug her off. In truth, I haven’t paid much attention to the lack of communication Ari has had with me, mostly because I’ve had back-to-back jobs for the past two weeks. I’m also a little bummed that Charlotte and Lana are leaving, so I haven’t felt too motivated to do much. AJ got his own place last month and for the first time in months, it’s just going to be Olive and me again. I’m happy to have our alone time back but this house is going to feel very empty as of tomorrow morning.
“Oh,” Charlotte says, seeming a little surprised. She lifts a small box and brings it over to the door to label it. “That’s odd.”
It is weird. I pull out my phone and send Ari a text message.
Me: It’s Friday, are you still coming by today?
Ten minutes pass and there is no response from her. There has been no response to the last several texts I have sent her over the past two weeks—of me checking in and asking her to have a meal with me, or just talk at least.
“Why don’t you go talk to Ari at the shop?” Charlotte suggests.
I nod in response, agreeing with her suggestion. “I’m getting the feeling she might not like that but I need to know what’s going on, I guess.”
“Go ahead; I got the girls. We’ll go start unpacking.”
“Thanks,” I say as I lift Olive up and hug her tightly. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
She places her small hands against my cheeks. “Mommy’s heart isn’t mommy.”
“Olive,” I respond through a hoarse grumble. “I know that.”
