“Just what I said. I want Wood Hollow to be home base.”
She gasped. “I’m their mother.”
I didn’t state the obvious. I let silence gather before I spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about this for months. Thinking I’d leave and follow you and Frank to fuck knows where to avoid any big lawyer bullshit that would tear us apart and make the kids miserable. San Diego? Yep. Albany? Why the hell not? But that’s not rational, and I’m sure it’s the last thing you’d want anyway. Yet that leaves me high and dry, and I’m not willing to go weeks without them. We can figure something out that won’t uproot them entirely, and I think staying here makes the most sense.”
“They’d have to change schools here too.”
“Yes, but they have friends in Wood Hollow, and this is as much home to them now as Fallbrook.”
She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I-I can’t do that. No way.”
“Think about it.”
Sarah frowned. “Leave them? I can’t think about it. I can’t. I just…”
“Please,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion I’d been hoping to hide. “Just think.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she walked out.
I swiveled in my chair, jaw tense, my heart beating furiously in my chest. I swiped at my face and took a deep breath. I’d played my card. It was her move now.
Another day went by. And another.
I was thinking about lawyers and what a fucking mess this was going to be, when Sarah called and asked to meet at my house.
She wore a black sundress this time, her hair was pulled into a lazy ponytail, and her eyes were swollen. She dropped her purse on a barstool and immediately started pacing.
“I talked to Frank. I’m…I’m—fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to say this but maybe moving them is selfish.”
“No one said that word.”
“I know, but I feel like it’s…selfish. I don’t know what to do. If you weren’t you, this would be a no-brainer.”
“What does that mean?” I snorted.
“You’re a good dad, a good man,” she replied softly. “I wish we hadn’t come to this. Two houses, two towns. I wish you and I had?—”
“Don’t. What’s done is done. This isn’t about us. It’s about Ivy and Chase.”
Sarah inhaled shakily. “Yes. I think we should ask them. They’re old enough to decide.”
“No. They’re not.Thatwould be selfish,” I protested, ignoring her sob. “We’re the adults here. We have to be on the same page. We set the tone and rules. If they push back and they’re miserable, we’ll listen and make adjustments as needed, but we can’t offer an open choice. They shouldn’t have to worry about hurting our feelings.”
“You’re right.”
She cried and I couldn’t stand it. I circled the island and hugged her. “Sar, we’re doing our best. That’s gotta count for something.”
“I know.” She swiped at her face. “I have questions for you. Can you handle the responsibility on your own? I heard about Mill Depot, and I imagine that’s going to take up some time.”
“I have a network of friends and family to lean on if I need to,” I assured her.
Sarah sniffed. “Right. Like your neighbor?”
“No. Silas is leaving soon.”
“But you and he?—”
