“I have a dozen cases that need attention.”
“All of which Wesley can manage. That's why you hired him.” He moved closer, his hand light on her back. “You've spent your entire life being what everyone expected. The perfect daughter. The perfect wife. The perfect mother. Maybe it's time to figure out what you want.”
Something twisted in her chest. Want. Such a small word for such a dangerous concept.
“The tickets were already booked for you and me.”
“Already handled. Necessary name adjustments have been made. All you have to do is show up Saturday morning at nine.”
“That's in two days.”
Two days to rearrange her entire schedule, to pack, to mentally prepare, for what? She didn't even know who she'd be traveling with.
“I know.” He squeezed her shoulder, then stepped back. “Early departure because they moved the festival dates up. But you've got this. Pack light, bring comfortable shoes, and for God's sake, let yourself have fun.”
Fun. Another concept that felt foreign. Work was fulfilling. The twins were joy personified. But fun? She couldn’t recall the last time she had fun.
Jackson checked his watch. “We should head out. My mom's looking forward to trying out the new meatloaf recipe at the Crusson restaurant and she gets cranky if we're late.”
They gathered the boxes, the folder, the last remnants of a life that had looked perfect on paper. At the door, Braden paused. When he spoke again, a thickness had crept into his voice.
“Thank you. For everything. For being my best friend when I needed one. For giving me the cover to figure myself out. For the twins. For not hating me.”
“I could never hate you.” The words caught in her throat. “You're stuck with me, divorce or not.”
His hug was tight and brief, smelling of his expensive cologne and something new—Jackson's laundry detergent, probably. When he pulled back, his eyes were wet.
“New Orleans is going to be good for you. I promise.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you need to remember who you are underneath all the roles you play. And sometimes that takes getting away from everything that defines you.”
Then they were gone, and the house swallowed her in silence again.
Celeste stood in the hallway, listening to the grandfather clock in the living room as it ticked steadily. The refrigerator hummed. Outside, a dog barked.
She was alone.
She'd been alone in this house before, plenty of times when Braden worked overnight shifts. But this felt different. More permanent. Like the silence had teeth.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her mother:School let out early for spring celebration. I picked up the twins. Come by? Nonna's making her chocolate cake.
Celeste grabbed her keys, grateful for the interruption. The drive to her parents' house was familiar enough that her mind wandered. Who had Braden roped into this trip? Probably someone from their college days, though most of those friends had scattered across the country. Maybe one of his colleagues from the hospital? The mystery gnawed at her.
Traffic slowed ahead. Two cars had nearly collided, now sitting at angles in the intersection while the drivers argued through their windows. One was a middle-aged man in a suit, the other a young woman who looked barely old enough to drive. Neither seemed hurt, just angry.
Celeste eased off the gas, leaving plenty of space. No point in adding to the chaos. The car behind her didn't share her patience.
The horn blared, long and aggressive.
She ignored it, watching the arguing drivers gesture wildly. The horn sounded again, even longer this time.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
The car swung around her, pulling up alongside. The passenger window slid down, and Celeste's stomach contracted.
She knew the driver.
