“Josh, I can’t come to England with my kids.” I couldn’t—could I?
He kissed me, stealing my breath and any possible argument I might have rather effectively. “You can, Claire. I have to go to this meeting, but I’ll catch up with you later. I’m not saying goodbye.” He dropped one more kiss on my lips before he walked back into the bedroom, whistling.
Chapter Seven
I looked at the bed covered in my newly purchased Shannon-selected clothes. “I can’t get everything in the damn suitcase.”
“You can take one of mine and bring it back to me.” Shannon zipped up my bag. “You only brought one?”
“Mom packed. Her superhero power would be fitting an entire closet into a single bag.”
“Not exactly an exciting superpower, but useful.”
I eyed the pile of clothes that I’d brought with me, discarded in the corner. “Why are we getting rid of these?”
“Because they’re…sad.” She looked at me with disbelieving eyes. “And you don’t need to be sad anymore. Things are changing.”
I sat on the edge of my bed, looking up at her. “I know that.”
She came to sit beside me. “What are you going to do first?”
“It’s been kind of busy, you know? Not a lot of time to formulate a plan.”
She seemed at a loss. Then she said, “I know you’re worried, but you don’t need to be. Things happen. Choices are made, sometimes without us being aware that we’ve already made them.”
I paused in the middle of folding a shirt and shot her a look. “What the hell does that mean?”
“No idea. I’m trying to sound knowledgeable and supportive. Guess I sound like a bad fortune cookie, huh?” She shrugged and stood up. “I’ll go get that suitcase.”
I smiled after her, finished folding the shirt, and added it to the stack of items I needed to pack. My eyes wandered to the window and the gorgeous beach outside. I gave in, walking onto the balcony and breathing in the ocean air.
I’d be with Natalie and Will by this time tomorrow. I couldn’t wait for that. I missed them.
It was hard sometimes, but I tried to give them a relatively normal childhood. I hoped they’d be much older before they learned any of the specifics of the divorce from their father.
Daniel. All the good memories, the good years, had been buried for my self-preservation.
It had been great in the beginning. We’d met at college and married immediately. Upon graduation, he’d found a fantastic job and I set up house.
Once Natalie was born, she filled my every waking second. Somehow, I was pregnant again before she was six months old. But I miscarried almost immediately. I had been devastated. Will’s birth, after seven more years of miscarriages and complications, had been a miracle to me. And I’d clung to motherhood with renewed fervor, oblivious to everyone and everything else.
The morning my world came crashing down around me was as clear today as if it just happened. Natalie and Will had been helping me weed the flowerbed. The reality had been them covered in dirt, giggling and digging random holes with enthusiasm.
A big black truck had flown around the corner, running onto the curb as it stopped in front of our house. Daniel had been inside the house, but he came running out instantly. The driver, a man so angry he was trembling with rage, yelled and pushed Daniel out of the way.
He’d come with one purpose: to tell me that his wife and my husband were having an affair.
Daniel hadn’t denied it. I hadn’t known what to say. I’d taken the kids inside and avoided talking about it until I thought I was ready. By then, it was too late.
Daniel wouldn’t talk about it. And he didn’t want me to talk about it. He told me it had been a slip, that it was over and I had to let it go—for the kids’ sake.
Nat had been nine and Will was barely two. They needed me. I tried to let go, but the hurt was deep. Things felt forced and brittle.
Daniel seemed irritated most of the time. Conversation went from limited to nonexistent. My tears made him defensive, so I tried not to cry. But my silence made me cold and unapproachable. I couldn’t find a way to reach him.
I didn’t know what to do to save my marriage.
The pain from his infidelity was a living, burning presence in almost every fiber of my being. It had been tearing at my stomach every morning when I woke up and sat heavily on my chest every night when I went to bed. I was falling apart.