Oh God. The words I didn’t add—like you—are suspended in the air between us, a poisoned arrow aimed in his direction. The dulling of his eyes tells me the second it pierces his heart.
“Oh, Jeremy … I didn’t—”
He’s a blur, rushing past me and out the door.
CHAPTER 15
I’ve cried until I feel sick. I cried while I fed Zak and played with him. I cried while I choked down a sandwich for dinner. I cried while I fed Zak and got him ready for bed. “I love you so much, baby, but I don’t deserve to be your mother. I said awful things to your daddy today. Your mommy is a horrible person. A selfish person. I’m so sorry.”
As I lay him in his bed, he smiles at me. A tiny version of Jeremy’s smile. And it turns out I still have tears left.
I don’t know what to do. I tried calling Jeremy, but he didn’t pick up. I texted him a dozen times, but he didn’t respond. I don’t know where he is or if he’s going to come home tonight. I thought about calling Matt to see if he’s talked to him, but I think Jeremy’s too proud to admit to anyone that I was so hateful to him. The image of the shock on his face looms before me.
What is wrong with me?
I wipe my nose and face on Zak’s burping cloth. I kiss him again, select surf on his sound machine, and turn to leave. Jeremy’s standing in the doorway. He’s focusing on the crib, and when I take a step forward, he moves into the room and to the side, still not looking at me. I walk past him, invisible and despised. He shuts the door behind me. The click of the latch is a fist to my stomach.
I pour myself a glass of wine and wait for him in the living room with the TV off because I don’t want to seem too casual, as if I don’t expect him to be angry with me. The baby monitor is on, and I listen to Jeremy singing to Zak. I picture him cuddling his son as he rocks him. I’m the outsider.
Suddenly, I flash back to a Monday when I was six. I came home from school crying because I found out I was the only girl in the class who hadn’t been invited to a birthday party the previous Saturday. My dad, who was off work that day, dried my tears and told me that he’d bet my invitation had gotten lost because what girl wouldn’t want me at their party? Then he took me out for the biggest ice cream sundae I’d ever seen. God, I miss you, Daddy.
When did Jeremy come to the nursery? Did he hear what I said to Zak? Does he care that I feel like shit?
He stops singing. I decide it’s better not to chance him thinking I’m just sitting here waiting to scream at him again, so I turn on the TV and find a soccer game, hoping he’ll hear it when he comes out of the nursery and it will draw him to me.
But I’m still alone when I take the last sip of my wine. I get up, as if I’m only going back to the kitchen to put my glass in the dishwasher, but I glance down the hall. The nursery door is closed. But so is the door to the guest room. I freeze. The warmth from the wine vanishes as I stare at the slash of light under the door, a bluish flickering TV light telling me I’ve been waiting for Jeremy in vain.
Our living situation is bizarre now. In less than forty-eight hours we’ve become ultra-polite strangers, each of us only being ourselves with Zak. I’ve tried to apologize to Jeremy, but he walks out of the room, and now, because I’m uncontrollably swinging back and forth between shame and anger, I’m afraid to speak to him at all because I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth. In desperation, I emailed him this morning. If he read it, he had no response.
Gabi and Mom have both called me and acted completely normal, so I don’t think he’s told Matt or anyone in his family what I said to him. But I have to talk to someone because I feel like I’m losing my mind. Gabi would be less shocked than my mom to hear what I said to Jeremy, but since she’s willing to move to Dublin for Matt’s job, I can’t expect her to understand my refusal to move to London. So, after lunch, when Jeremy takes Zak out in his pram, I sit down at the kitchen counter and call my mom.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says, “how’s everything with you?”
“Fine,” I say automatically, and then I break down.
“Oh, my God. What’s happened? Is it Zak?”
I manage to choke out enough words to calm her, and then she lets me cry for a while. “Do you think this is post-partum depression?” she asks finally.
“No. It’s me and Jeremy.” I stop to blow my nose. “He got a job offer.”
“Uh-huh.”
I’m stunned. That one word—that sound—is a dead giveaway that she already knew. Of course, she did. Gordon and Uncle would know all about the job. Probably everyone there knows. Suddenly, the room seems darker, as if the sunlight can no longer penetrate window glass.
“Chelsea?”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Mom?”
“I didn’t think it was my place, sweetie.”
Don’t call me sweetie.
“It was only an offer,” she says. “Has Jeremy decided—”
“Yes. Yes, Mom, he has. He wants us to move to fucking London. He wants us to give up everything we have.”
“Now, Chelsea, it’s not like—”
“What? I should just shut up and obey my husband?”
“Oh, Chelsea.” There’s a rustling as she muffles the phone and then mumbling as she speaks to someone else.
“Mom,” I yell to get her attention.
“Just a minute, swee—”
“Zak is crying; I have to go.” I end the call, mute my phone, and lay it on the counter. I’ve never felt so betrayed. And so alone. I grab my purse and keys and head for the place I know will make me feel better.
It’s a sunny April day, but the wind is cool, and I’m not dressed warm enough to sit down at the surf’s edge, so after I walk the length of the beach several times, I settle onto the sand higher up. I like weekdays here at this time of year when the kids are still in school and fewer tourists are visiting. To be honest, I like it here anytime.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The warmth of the sun, the tang of the air, the wind whipping my hair this way and that—this is me. This is where I belong. I grew up on this beach. My father taught me to surf here. He teased me that I’d turn into a mermaid if I spent any more time here. I daydreamed that when I grew up, I’d live in one of the apartments along this beach so I could spend all my waking hours here. Typical childish dreams where there are no financial concerns.
You’re not a child anymore, Chelsea.
Financial concerns are reality. When I met Jeremy, I was struggling to live on minimum wage, too proud to admit I couldn’t make it on my own, too poor to refuse my mother’s help. Now, I pretend that I’m happy living on a budget that strangles us when unexpected expenses crop up. I’m just fooling myself to think that Jeremy and I can provide for Zak even the comparatively few advantages I had. Unlike me, Jeremy has accepted that reality. Selfish. That was the word he sparked my fury with. Because it’s true.
You can’t be selfish anymore.
I can’t keep my husband totally stressed about money when he doesn’t have to be. He downplays it, but it’s obvious he’s excited at the possibility of working in law again. And though I think he truly likes living in California, England is where he’s most comfortable. It’s where his father “could have died.” It’s Jeremy’s home, like Uncle said.
Face it, Chelsea, it’s also your mom’s home now.
It’s where all Zak’s grandparents live, so I’m cheating him out of their presence in his life. Even Gabi’s going to be living not far from there. What would I be staying here for?
I’ve lost track of time, but a baby fussing somewhere behind me causes my milk to let down. It’s time to go home. Before I can stand, a receiving blanket drapes onto my shoulder and Jeremy leans over me and lays Zak in my arms. I can’t even pretend to be surprised that Jeremy found me here. He knows me so well.
He sits down behind us, his legs stretched out on either side of me. I shield Zak from the sun with the blanket and put him to my breast. We sit that way silently for several minutes.
Like me, Jeremy’s wearing shorts and flip-flops, and I stare at his bare feet and legs, remembering how he used to be so squeamish about sand against his skin. But he adapted to my love of the beach. He adapted to me.
“I should have taken you to West Wittering last summer,” he says.
“Why?”
“It’s the most beautiful beach in England. Though”—he gestures down the beach to the pier with its Ferris wheel and arcade and restaurants—“maybe Brighton would seem more familiar to you.”
“Tell me about West Wittering.”
“Lots of white sand, grassy dunes, windsurfing … you’d like that. Gets crowded in the summer, like here. I think someone I know still owns a cottage there.”
“Sounds nice. Is it far from London?”
“A two-hour drive.”
“Hmm.”
A gust of wind whirls around us, and he wraps his arms around me and Zak.
“Jeremy, I didn’t really mean you’re—”
“I know.”
We lapse into silence again, letting the surf and seabirds and the distant voices of others fill the lull. Jeremy automatically lifts and grasps the corner of the blanket, shielding Zak as I switch him to the other breast. A moment later, Jeremy and I sigh in tandem. The time has come.
“Tell me what you want, Chelsea.”
“I want us to be like we were. I want us to be loving and kind to each other. I want us to have fun. I want us to be a team.”
“And which of those things depends on where we live?”
I watch the waves as if they might carry in a logical response to me like kelp to the shore. I give up with another sigh. “None.”
“What are you afraid of? What is the real reason you don’t want to move to London?”
“We’ve made a home here; I don’t want to give it up. And I love California; it’s where I want my child to live. And I—”
“The real reason, Chelsea.”
“Okay, okay. I can’t be what you want, what you need. I’m not the right person to be a lawyer’s wife.”
“You’re the right person to be my wife. That’s all that matters.”
Crap. How does he always say the right thing? “Even though I’m selfish?”
He exhales sharply. “I’m sorry I said that. I sprung the London idea on you and your reaction was—”
“Selfish.”
“No.” He kisses the top of my head. “Understandable. Self-protection is not selfishness.”
“What do I need to protect myself from?”
“Being left on your own, your mom says.”
I scooch around in the sand to face Jeremy. “That’s crazy.”
“She believes that particular fear is what caused you to react so negatively.”
I shake my head while I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “I never thought you were leaving me. I know I told you to go, but—”
“But don’t you see that you’re always afraid that I will leave? And because of that, you’re afraid of losing what’s familiar to you and then being left alone in a strange place.”
I scoff. “So you and Mom have psychoanalyst degrees now?”
He clasps my shoulders and presses his forehead against mine. “You never talk about him.”
“I don’t know who—”
“Your father, Chelsea. He didn’t leave you, he—”
“Stop.” Zak is done feeding, so I cover up and try to stand, but Jeremy won’t let me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going home now.”
“He didn’t leave you; he was taken away.”
“Shut up.” I’m shaking so hard I’m afraid I’ll wake Zak. “It’s too cold here, I need to take the baby home.”
“It’s not cold,” he says gently.
My eyes blur and overflow, sending hot tears down my cheeks. “I don’t want to talk anymore. And I definitely don’t want to talk about … him.” And I don’t want to think. And I can’t stop trembling. And I don’t want to stay, but I can’t move. A body-wracking sob escapes me. Crumbles me. “He … he called me Sunshine.”
Jeremy wraps his long arms and legs around Zak and me, holding us as tightly as he can. He strokes my hair as I give way to grief.
After long tearful talks with Mom and Gabi and Jeremy this past week, I’ve put my fears in better perspective. Mom apologized a hundred times for not realizing that I’d never properly dealt with my father’s death. But how could she have when I didn’t realize it myself? Like Laura said, there’s that special relationship between fathers and daughters … in loving families at least. My father treated me like a princess. He was my white knight. And then a drunk driver took him away.
I didn’t really trust men to stay in my life after that, which explains why I never let the guys I dated get too close. But then Jeremy came along. Another white knight. Poor Jeremy. He’s had to deal with my emotional push and pull for almost three years. It’s a wonder he’s stuck with me. But lucky me, he has. And I’m going to believe he’ll be here for a good long time.
So yeah, one year after moving into this house, I have a new life plan—the Perfect Life Plan, Part Two. We’re moving to England. We have two months to work out the details. Well, actually, Jeremy has only six weeks before he has to report to the offices of WPM, so Mom is flying over to stay with me here the last two weeks, and then she’ll fly to England with me and Zak.
At first, when I found out how many plans had already been discussed behind my back, I was hurt and angry. As I suspected, Mom confessed she had already been making plans to sell her house. It upset me to think she could let it go so easily. I cried that whole day. But the next day we talked about it, and she made me see that it wasn’t her selling the house that upset me, it was the feeling I’d be losing another piece of my father. So, for now, she’s keeping the house. That way, she says, the family will have a California vacation home for when any of us, including Gabi and Matt, want to come back here for a visit.
And Laura and Ethan were already shopping for another condo, planning to sell hers back to Jeremy, well, to both of us. I love that condo. And I love Notting Hill, but we’ll have to see how that location works out with Zak. When Jeremy originally bought it, fatherhood was the last thing on his mind.
Mom sent photos showing that she and Amanda have already started duplicating Zak’s beachy nursery in one of the condo’s bedrooms. And they’re hiring someone to add safety gates to the stairwells even though it will be months before Zak will be crawling. They’re dedicated to making the transition as easy as possible—for me. Jeremy will have no problem with it, except that he’ll be giving up his beloved pool—one right outside his door, that is. He’ll not only have access to the pool at his previous “club” but he says WPM has “a state-of-the-art fitness facility on the premises.” And of course there are two pools at Dovewood, which I’m sure we’ll visit often. (Isn’t it freaky to think that someday I’ll be the mistress of Dovewood?)
We talk about the move constantly, of course, and now I’m able to think about it without tears or heart palpitations. In fact, I’m getting excited. Knowing that he has my support seems to have given Jeremy more confidence that he’s made the right career decision. I realize now that part of my duty as his wife is to help him see that he never needed a different name to be “self-assured, fearless” and “his own person.” He’s already those things. He’s a wonderful man. And I love the hell out of him.
Right now, he’s lying on the sofa with Zak asleep on his chest while I’m writing lists of things I need to do here before the move and things I’ll need to do there right after the move. “Can I drive in England with an American license?”
“Yes, for a year, but you’ll probably have less need to. As long as we’re living in Notting Hill, that is.”
I write down: learn the London Tube system. “How long do you think it will take for my body to acclimate?”
He smiles. “You’ll learn to love dressing in layers, Miss I’m Freezing.”
“You like my suits?”
“I like the way you look in them. Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to dressing up more.”
He rubs Zak’s back. “I’m sure the grandmothers are shopping for this nipper’s formal wear as we speak.”
“We won’t ‘dress for dinner’ at home, will we?”
“Definitely not.”
I look around the living room, overwhelmed with the enormity of moving a household to another country. “What furniture will Laura be leaving in the condo?”
“All of it, I think. It was mine to begin with. Oh.” He lifts Zak to his shoulder as he sits up. “Do you not want that? You can change the decor to suit you.” He looks around the room. “Would you prefer—”
“Yeah, right. I want to replace all that beautiful, expensive furniture with these bargain knockoffs.”
“I want you to feel at home there.”
“There’s only one thing that kind of bugs me.”
“Yes?”
“I keep picturing all those other women in your bed.”
“We’ll buy another bed, then. A whole new condo, if you prefer.”
“I’m teasing you.” I move to straddle his thighs, facing him so Zak is sandwiched between us. “There is one thing I’m dead serious about, though.”
“Well, if there’s only one thing.”
“No, really, I’m serious. I know it’s tradition in your family, at least, but I will never agree to send Zak off to boarding school.”
“All right. But by the time we have five kids, you may be glad to send them away.”
“Five!”
“Well, if Gabi has four, you’ll have to have at least one more. You know, that BFF competition thing you have going.”
“Ha. Ha. That was only over you.”
“There was never any—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zak wakes for his feeding, so I take him from Jeremy and move to sit beside him. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
Open & Honest (Sometimes) (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 3) Page 21