Page 64 of Hearts on the Mend

“You alright there, Cassie?” He stares down at me, wearing the same easy grin that I fell for years ago, but the shine’s worn off.

I playfully rock Ruby back and forth in my arms in a big arc. “I missed you, monkey. I missed you so much. Did you have fun with Daddy?” I try hard to be happy for her, to pretend that this is okay, even though I know she’s having a hard time with everything in her life changing.

I get it, I do. I’m having a hard time too.

One day, I swear this will be for the best, but right now, it just fucking hurts. And I hate it. And I’m so tired.

Sarah walks out from behind the counter just as a little boy and a toddler squeal in delight, bursting through the door. I miss that sound. After hugs, she sends over Arlo to ask if Ruby wants to sit with them.

I hand over her lobster cake pop, thankful for a few minutes to figure out what Matt wants.

He sits opposite me, taking out his phone. Likely his work phone, given the big OtterBox case around it. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” I sip my coffee, unsure what to add.

I never know with him what will be used against me.

“How’s work coming on the house?”

“Great,” I say. “I’m on track to list it in the spring.”

“And then what?”

I shrug, then tear off a bite of croissant, offering him a piece.

He looks revolted that I would even suggest it. I plop it in my mouth, stalling for time.

“And Ruby? How is she settling in at the house? How’s school?”

“She loves the house. She tells me all the time, and she likes her teacher, which makes it easy.”

“She doesn’t tell me a lot.” It’s meant to be a throwaway comment, but I hear his resentment. He clears his throat. “It’s a small town, Merritt Point. I know I only live a few towns over, but people talk.”

Suddenly, it’s as if I jumped into the harbor. I’m freezing, my stomach in knots.

“Like how I heard you have someone staying at the house.”

“I hired someone to help me fix it up,” I correct.

“He lives there.”

“Temporarily.” I’m afraid to give any more information.

“What does this guy do?”

“He’s fixing the house, Matt.”

“Normally,” he cuts in, and I can tell he’s testing me, that he already knows. “What does he normally do for work?”

“He’s a smoke jumper.”

The way his face relaxes, as if he suddenly understands, makes me feel worse, and then he just doesn’t say anything at all. It feels as if it stretches on for an hour before he finally taps his fingers on the table and leans back into his chair.

“Listen, Cassie, I think we need to revisit the custody arrangement. That’s not a threat,” he says, holding up his hand as soon as I feel my face fall. “I think we need to have this conversation with our lawyers present.” Then that grin again.

I don’t ask why.

I know why, and it’s my fault.