“I remember Cape Cod,” I say. “It’s the one memory I try to hold on to so that I don’t completely resent you. But while you feel like you did this wonderful thing by giving me that one memory of us that one time, I’m offering to give that to Josh every day of his life.”
Sutton looks down at her lap when I say that. For the first time, she looks like she might be experiencing an emotion other than anger or irritation.
Maybe I am, too. When I decided to have this conversation with her on the drive home from Tim’s house today, I fully planned on cutting her out of our lives forever. But even monsters can’t survive without a heart beating inside their chest.
There’s a heart in there somewhere. Maybe no one inher life has ever let her know they’re appreciative that it still beats.
“Thank you,” I say.
Her eyes flicker up to mine. She thinks I’m testing her with that comment.
I shake my head, conflicted by what I’m about to say. “You were a single mother, and I know neither of our fathers helped you in any way. That must have been really difficult for you. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you’re depressed. I don’t know why you can’t look at motherhood like the gift that it is, but you’re here. You showed up tonight, and that effort is worth a thank-you.”
She looks down at the table, and it’s a completely unexpected reaction when her shoulders begin to shake, but she fights back the tears with all that she is. She brings her hands up to the table and fidgets with her napkin, but never has to use it because she doesn’t allow a single tear to fall.
I don’t know what she went through that made her so hard. So unwilling to be vulnerable. Maybe one of these days she’ll share that with me, but she has a lot to prove as a mother to Josh before she and I will ever get to that point.
She pulls her shoulders back, sitting up straighter. “What time will the dinner be on Tuesdays?”
“Seven.”
She nods and looks like she’s about to scoot out of the booth.
“I can get you a to-go box if you want to take it with you.”
She nods quickly. “I’d like that. It’s always been my favorite dish.”
“I know. I remember Cape Cod.” I take her plate to the kitchen and prepare it to go.
Josh is asleep on the couch when I finally make it back home. Anime is playing on the television, so I hit pause and set the remote on the coffee table.
I watch him sleep for a little while, overcome with relief after the day I’ve had. Things could have gone a lot differently. I press my lips together, choking back the emotional exhaustion as I watch him sleep in peace. I realize as I’m staring at him that I’m looking at him the same way Lily looks at Emerson, like she’s so full of pride.
I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over him, then I walk to the table where Josh’s homework is laid out. Everything is completed, even the family tree assignment.
He drew a tiny seedling sprouting from the ground with two small branches. One saysJoshand one saysAtlas.
Chapter Thirty-FourLily
I almost missed the note, I was in such a rush this morning. It was shoved under my front door and was caught on the entry rug.
I had Emmy on my hip, a purse and a diaper bag on my shoulder, and coffee in my free hand. I managed to bend and pick up the note without spilling any of it.Supermom.
I had to wait until I got a quiet moment at work to open it. When I unfold the note and see Atlas’s handwriting, I feel a shiver of relief run through me. Not because I thought the note would be from anyone other than Atlas. We’ve been together several months now, and he leaves me notes all the time. But this is one of the first notes he’s left that a small part of me hasn’t dreaded opening, in the off chance the notewasfrom Ryle.
I make a mental note of the significance of this moment.
I do that a lot. Mentally note significant things that are clues my life is finally getting back to normal. I don’t do it as often as I used to, but that’s a good thing. Ryle is such a small part of my life now, I sometimes forget how eternally complicated I used to believe it would be.
He’s still a part of Emmy’s life, but I’ve been demanding more structure from him. He sometimes tries to push backon how strict I am with her visits, but I’m never going to be comfortable until she can tell me in her own words what her visits with Ryle are like. I’m hoping anger management is helping, but only time will tell.
The contact Ryle and I do have is still sometimes terse, but all I’ve ever wanted out of our divorce was my freedom from fear, and I truly feel like I have that.
I’m hiding in my office storage closet, sitting cross-legged on the floor because I wanted to read this letter uninterrupted. It’s been months since I forced Atlas to hide out in here, but it still smells like him.
I unfold the note and trace the little open heart he drew at the top left-hand corner of the first page. I’m already smiling as I begin to read.
Dear Lily,