He calls my name, but I don’t stop or look back.
When I walk inside, I find Ethan and Alicia talking in the kitchen. I force a smile, hug them both, and head upstairs for a quick shower.
When I’m done—hair damp, wrapped in a towel—I return to my bedroom and notice the notifications on my phone. Two missed calls and several messages. I almost ignore them.
Colin:Please forgive me. I didn’t mean any of what I said.
Colin:I know you’d never do anything like that.
Colin:I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.
Colin:Can I call you?
They were sent twenty-five minutes ago. And there are two more, sent less than five minutes ago.
Colin:I hated seeing you with him. The way he looks at you, how you let him touch you.
Colin:I can’t imagine you with anyone else. Especially not him. I can’t. I’m sorry.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me.
Part of me wants to block him. To do what so many divorced couples do: use a parenting app that keeps the communication strictly about the kids. It’s the cleaner and more distant solution.
But then I think of our children and type a quick text.
Me:Can you ask Oliver to call Colin? I think he might need it.
The typing dots appear.
Felicity:He left over ten minutes ago. I’m going to start charging Colin every time Oliver has to play therapist for him.
Me:Thank you.
Therapy... I’d bet Colin continues to think it’s a waste of his time. I set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed.
His jealousy isn’t new. But after all this time, I thought it was finally clear that the only place left for him in my life is the part that involves our kids. Nothing beyond that.
And if one day I decide to open my heart again... he can learn to handle it however he’s able.
Or he can choose to have no contact with me at all. Either way, my life is no longer his to step into.
I set the pen aside and look again at the list I made—inspired by what Alexander asked me two weeks ago—but now it’s grown far beyond just four items.
I’m staring at the pool, wondering if there’s anything else I should add, when a voice behind me starts reading my list out loud like he’s the world’s most insufferable audiobook narrator.
“Learn a new language,” Mark declares dramatically. “Italian, probably—for obvious reasons.”
He keeps going, fully committed to the performance.
“Try a new sport. Meditation? Ugh, boring. You’d be asleep in ninety seconds. Northern lights... too cliché, even for you.”
My hands go to the cover, but he stops me before I can close it.
“Oh wait... now we’re getting somewhere,” he continues, clearly delighted with himself. “A short tour through Europe... interesting.Veryinteresting.”
I snap my planner shut, and he takes his finger from the page just in time. Turning, I find him crouched behind the lounge chair I’m sitting on.
“Do I need to put a bell on you now?” I ask.
