by Kelsie Rae
After a few seconds, Saylor’s voice breaks the silence. “You’re going to get through this.”
“My heart begs to differ,” I argue, pathetically.
“You will. I didn’t say your heart would be the same after.”
A lump gets lodged in my throat. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been there. When hearts break, they take a long time to heal. And if the damage is deep enough, it’ll leave scars that you never really recover from. I mean, sure. You’re okay. But the marks are still there. You just get used to living with them.”
Sway peeks up at me, and I can read the thoughts clearly painted across her face.
“Did you see that he’s back?” I whisper, not bothering to say his name aloud. There’s no need. We all know I’m talking about the infamous Owen Daniels.
“Sure did,” Saylor replies bitterly. “His little boy is registered in my class for next year.”
My jaw drops, and my eyes widen. Pushing myself up, I turn to her. “Are you freaking kidding me?! I was gone for three weeks! Three! How is it possible that in less than a month, one of my sisters gets engaged, and the other one finds out the love of her life has a kid, and he’s going to be in her class?! Anything else you guys wanna tell me?”
“Umm…may the force be with you?” Saylor voices, though it comes out like a question.
I roll my eyes. “Funny. So tell me, Say, how the hell did his kid get registered to your class?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure it was a coincidence. I was checking the roster and making cute name tags when I saw the last name. With my history, it made me freak out, so I checked the registration papers, and, sure enough, the father’s name is….”
“Mr. O,” Sway finishes for her before reaching over me and squeezing Saylor’s knee. Sighing, she tries to console her big sister. “He’s an ass. Can you request that the kid be moved to another class?”
Saylor shakes her head. “Announcements were already sent out. Owen will know if I move his son to a different class. I don’t want to rock the boat or to let him know that I still….” She clears her throat, leaving her explanation unsaid. She doesn’t need to explain herself because we already know. She still thinks about him. Even though she would never admit it out loud, and we would never ask her to, she still misses him. And it kills her. Like she said, some wounds never heal. You just learn how to live with them.
I nod. “That makes sense. Just pretend he’s like any other student and any other parent. It’ll all work out.”
“Yup. It will.” Even though Saylor’s agreeing with me, I can still hear her doubt before she gives me a pointed look. “It’ll work out for you too. I promise. Elaine says she’ll get started on the paperwork today and will serve them to Liam as soon as she’s got the details worked out. This will be over before you know it.”
“I hope so.” I wish I had her confidence. Her determination. Saylor’s one of the strongest people I know. Actually, both of my sisters are. Weaving my arms between theirs, I pull them into a tight squeeze.
“I love you guys. Thank you for being here.”
“Always, Skye. Always.”
“And Sway?” I address her.
“Yeah?” she murmurs.
“I am so happy for you. What you and Anthony have…it’s real. And I can’t wait to celebrate it with you.”
Reaching for a tissue on the coffee table, she blows her nose. “Thanks, Skye. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, but I’m sorry it’s at such a crappy time for you.”
I shrug. “Like Saylor said, I’ll get over it.”
But my heart won’t.
Chapter Thirty
Skye
I moved in with Saylor. It only made sense with how much time we were spending together. And ya know, since I got kicked out of the Davis home a few days before. Anthony and Sway were awesome and did the dirty work for me, picking up my crap so that I wouldn’t have to.
The next couple of weeks fly by, and a giant part of me hates that Liam hasn’t even bothered to reach out. Not a single text. Not a single call. Nothing. My stomach rolls at the thought, and my eyes ache from all the tears they’ve expelled over a guy who obviously never cared about me. Elaine, the parent of the student in Saylor’s class last year who happens to be a divorce attorney, is amazing and gets the paperwork together as quickly as she can before promising to deliver it all to Liam. As long as I don’t have to see him, I don’t really care how he gets the papers. I just want this nightmare to be over with as quickly as possible so I can move on with my life.
I still haven’t found a job. I don’t know what I’m going to do without my favorite six-year-old. Part of me feels like one of my limbs has been sawed off. How am I expected to function without it? I considered sneaking into his classroom to say goodbye on the first day of school, but I don’t want to cause a scene, and I definitely don’t want him to get mad at his parents for my own stupidity. His family life is already rocky enough. He doesn’t need me adding any fuel to the fire. Still, it breaks my heart not to see him every day like I’m used to.
Instead, I’ve been moping at Saylor’s apartment while cutting out apples on red and green paper for the first day of school. I can tell she’s anxious about running into Owen, but she’s doing her best to hide it. Just like how I’m doing my best to move on.
We both suck at it.
Cutting out what feels like the thousandth apple in one day, my phone rings, and I drop the scissors in relief.
Elaine’s number flashes across the screen.
“Hey!”
“Hey, Skye. How are you?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me before pinning the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Good, I guess? How’d it go?”
There’s a brief pause before Elaine replies, “Well, there’s been a bit of an issue.”
“And what’s that?”
“It seems that Mr. Davis”––she means Liam––“is out of the country.”
I groan. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I am unable to serve the papers until he enters the country again.”
“So…what does that mean?”
“It means you won’t be getting divorced until he gets back. I left a copy with the housekeeper, but….”
“But he’s not going to be able to sign them until he comes home,” I finish for her.
“I’m sorry, Skye. I know how anxious you are to get this taken care of.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shift the phone to my other ear. “It’s fine. Keep me updated.”
“I definitely will. I also sent a copy to his lawyer’s office. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
“I’m sure we will. Thanks, Elaine.”
“Anytime.”
Then I hang up the phone and cry for another hour. Could the bastard be any more selfish? I can’t believe I’d pegged him so wrong.
No. That’s not true. I’d hit the nail right on the head when we first met. He’s a selfish prick who only thinks of himself. Yet, I was stupid enough to believe his lies. I force a stitch into my aching heart, sewing the damn thing together out of pure determination. I don’t care if it doesn’t fit the way it should, or that it’ll leave a wicked scar because I’m not taking proper care of it. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.
Three months later
I’m working as a teacher’s aid at the school. The pay is crappy, but I’m able to distract myself from my screwed up life, so it works.
It’s a Thursday evening when a loud knock echoes from the front door. Rushing to answer it, my mouth opens like a fish out of water when I see who it is.
“Mr. Davis?”
What the hell? I haven’t seen him since he kicked me out of his house and fired me. Okay, maybe kicking me out is a little harsh. Technically, I stormed out, but it’s not like I couldn’t read the writing on the wall. And he did fire me so….
“Hello, Skye. I was wondering if we could talk for a minute?”
<
br /> Chewing on my lower lip, I weigh my options for a few seconds before finally opening the door the rest of the way and stepping aside. I can’t seem to find the words to actually invite him in, but I figure he’ll catch the hint. And if he doesn’t, then I’ll just go back to binging Netflix. By myself. Since that’s how I’ve resorted to spending my time. Stupid Saylor and her addictive nerdy shows.
Hesitantly, he steps inside. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. The guy has aged well. He might be older, but he rocks the salt and pepper hair and has the same dimples and green eyes that he gifted his sons with. Which reminds me….
“How’s Brody?” I ask, trying to curb my curiosity.
“He’s doing well.”
“That’s…good.”
After an awkward pause, he divulges, “Misses you.”
My eyes tear up, and a lump gets lodged in my throat. Coughing, I round the kitchen island tucked a few feet away from the door and grab a glass.
“Do you need a drink?” I ask.
“No, thank you.”
The silence is suffocating. I feel like I can’t breathe. I have so many questions, but I don’t know where to start, and I also don’t want to seem like I’m prying, either. I give him my back and completely face the stainless steel fridge before pressing my forehead against the cool metal. Slowly, I inhale through my nose, then exhale through my mouth.
Calm down, I tell myself.
Once the cup is full, I bring it to my lips and chug the entire thing before setting it down on the countertop. All the while, he simply watches me but doesn’t say a word.
“So…?” I trail off. My attempt at moving the conversation along seems to break our staring contest. Instead of speaking, he inspects my new home.
“This is a nice place,” he notes. I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s not that nice of a place. I mean, it’s clean. And it smells like vanilla. But it isn’t anywhere near as extravagant as I know Mr. Davis is used to.
“Umm…thank you?”
More silence.
I count to thirty in my head before I just can’t take it anymore. Finally, I snap. “What are you doing here, Mr. Davis?”
Turning back to me, he lets out a deep breath. “I came to apologize.”
My forehead wrinkles in surprise as my brows practically reach my hairline. “Excuse me?”
With a deep chuckle, he motions to a bar stool tucked beneath the kitchen island that separates us. “Mind if I take a seat?”
I almost tell him yes just to see what his face would look like if things didn’t go his way for once, but I restrain myself.
“Sure,” I mutter, motioning to the seat.
The legs scrape along the tile floor as he untucks it from beneath the counter. Sitting down, he pulls out his phone then rests his elbows on the freshly-wiped surface. I still haven’t moved a muscle as I inspect him like I’ve landed in some alternate universe. I notice him toying with it for a few seconds before releasing another breath and unlocking the screen. With a deliberate push, he slides it across the counter toward me. Curious, I take it and stare at the glowing screen.
“What is this?” I whisper in disbelief when I finally snap out of the hallucination I’m sure I just found myself in.
“What does it look like?”
My finger hovers above the screen. I study Liam crouching down in a pair of worn jeans and a simple red T-shirt that hugs his biceps. A little African kid has his arms wrapped around Liam’s neck, and they’re both grinning at the camera. Liam’s green eyes are sparkling, his hair is a mess, and a smudge of dirt is staining his stubbled cheek.
“Swipe left,” Mr. Davis instructs.
When I do, I see another image of Liam. This time, he’s standing at his full height instead of squatting down. He’s in a white T-shirt this time, and there are a dozen kids clinging to him. But the same giant smile is firmly in place. I swipe left again. And again. And again. Each image is different but similar at the same time.
“What are these?” I murmur again, my eyes glued to the pictures, memorizing every tiny detail.
“A few months ago, your lawyer dropped by with divorce papers. She was very distraught when she found out my son wasn’t in the country. If I’m being honest, so was I. But then these pictures started to clutter my inbox, and I finally understood where he disappeared to.”
He lets me continue messing with his phone in silence before I break it a few minutes later. “Are these recent?”
“Yes. Well, if you mean, are they from the last three months since you got back from your honeymoon? Then, yes.”
Shaking my head, I finally tear my gaze away from his phone and hand it back to him. “But…why?”
“I think we both know why.”
“I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me,” I counter, my mind a frazzled mess as it tries to process the situation.
“He might not have been the man you thought he was when you got married, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be.”
“He left,” I argue. Memories of the last three months start to resurface as soon as I mention him. All the tears. The ice cream. The lack of sleep. The job hunting. The overwhelming need to hear Liam’s voice while knowing it wasn’t possible. I shake my head. “He didn’t bother to call. To text. Nothing.”
“Because he knew you deserved more.”
I did deserve more. I deserved his honesty. I deserved his love. I deserved the real Liam. The problem is that I thought I had him.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit after another few seconds of silence.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just felt like you deserved the truth and maybe a bit of a heads-up too,” he tacks on with a tight smile. “He’s coming home tomorrow. I don’t know what his plans are. We’re working on our communication, but it’s hard to break a habit you’ve built for years. Regardless, I thought you should know.”
Speechless, I nod.
It’s clear he’s said everything he intended to, and he pushes himself up from his barstool before reaching back for his phone. Tucking it into the front pocket of his slacks, he takes the two steps from the island to the front door.
I watch his hand grab the handle, positive he’s going to leave without even a polite goodbye. Then he stops and turns back to me. “Brody doesn’t know I’m here because I didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if you’re ever interested in having your job back, it’s yours. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed those things about you, and I’m sorry. You have my number if you ever need anything, and I’d be lucky to call you my daughter-in-law. I’m sorry that I ever made you question that. Have a good evening.”
I watch as he opens the door and disappears out of it, leaving me with more chaotic thoughts than I’ve had since the last time we spoke.
Liam is coming home? Tomorrow? What is he going to do? What am I going to do?
And where the hell has he been?
Chapter Thirty-One
Skye
He doesn’t come by. Not the day after Mr. Davis’ surprise visit, or the day after that. I’ve completely lost hope when I slide into my worn pajamas on Sunday night with the intention of surviving another lonely night of Netflix and ice cream. I’d lied to my family and told them I wasn’t feeling well. Normally, we meet Sunday evenings for dinner and games, but I wasn’t in the mood. I’d rather spend my night feeling sorry for myself.
I’m so pathetic.
Grabbing a spoon and a pint of mint chocolate chip, I hear the front door shake with a purposeful knock. My heart leaps in my chest before convincing myself that it’s simply the FedEx guy. Because ya know, he usually makes deliveries on Sunday evenings. I roll my eyes and sneak to the door on my tiptoes, refusing to get my hopes up. Peeking through the peephole, the spoon slips through my fingers and clatters to the floor.
“Skye?” Liam’s baritone voice rumbles through the heavy door as I rest m
y head against it.
Deep breaths, Skye. Deep breaths.
“Skye? You there?”
I keep my lips zipped and count to ten then jump out of my skin when his knuckles rap against the door again.
“Skye?” he calls again, a little louder this time.
Scrunching up my face, I fling the door open.
His eyes widen in surprise.
“Hi.” My tone is blunt as I cross my arms and stare up at the guy who stars in all my dreams. The good ones and the bad.
“Hey,” he returns, raking his fingers through his hair. It’s longer than it was a few months ago and reminds me of his little brother’s. His skin is tanner too. Like he’s been spending a lot of time in the sun. Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head and get my bearings before opening them again.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, unable to contain the malice that slips into my tone.
He lifts a manila envelope and waves it gently back and forth. “I think we both know what I’m doing here.”
Heart dropping to my stomach, I realize what’s in it––the divorce papers. What really shocks me, though, is that I’m not relieved to see them in his hands. It’s the opposite.
“Oh,” I breathe.
“Do you mind if I come in? Maybe we can talk for a second?”
Déjà vu flashes through my mind from only a few days ago when his dad stopped by. “Um—”
Sensing my hesitation, he cuts me off. “It’s fine. We can just talk out here. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance.”
My head is screaming at me to ask him what he’s doing here. Why he brought the divorce papers. If he signed them. If he noticed that I didn’t ask for a damn penny from him. If he can see the way my signature isn’t smooth. That it took every ounce of my determination to keep it legible when my entire body was shaking like a leaf. But I keep my mouth shut because this feels like one of those moments. The pivotal kind. The life-changing kind. The irreversible kind.