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Only one thing was clear: I couldn’t let myself fall into a downward spiral. I couldn’t fall apart like I did last time, and become a zombie.
This time I had to be strong for my children. For myself.
I had resources.
I had Xanax.
You know what they say: The first time, shame on him. The second time, shame on you.
No, I wasn’t going to let him shame me. Not this time. Not ever.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Especially one with my history.
Taking a pain pill, I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me. I was going to need every ounce of strength I had.
THIRTY-NINE
PAIGE
The next morning, I was surprised to find my mother downstairs in the kitchen, laying breakfast items out on the island counter—granola bars, blueberry muffins, fresh fruit, and OJ.
She was already clad in her Lululemon workout gear and looked much better than she did last night. Rested, the color in her face restored.
“Mom, how’s your finger?” I noticed she was avoiding using her left hand. Thankfully, she was right-handed.
“It doesn’t hurt as much,” she replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Thanks for asking.”
“Where’s Dad?” Usually he was the first one down here.
She took a sip of her steamy brew and shrugged. “He must have had an early morning meeting.” The tone of her voice said something else.
I let it be. “What about Will?” My early-riser brother was always downstairs before me.
“He’s out with Bear. Taking him for a walk since I can’t.” She glanced down at her bandaged finger. It took two hands to rein in our burly dog whenever he saw a squirrel and lurched.
Before I could say another word, Tanya came flying into the kitchen like debris. She shot me a contemptuous look and then turned to my mother, not asking a thing about her finger.
“Natalie, you’re going to have to take me shopping after school.”
“I can’t today. I have an important meeting.”
“Cancel it! I need a new laptop. I looked everywhere last night and couldn’t find it.” She gave me another dirty look and smirked. “Well, at least I’ll have the latest MacBook Pro. Thanks. To. You.”
You’re welcome, I snickered silently as she snagged a granola bar.
After a quick bite, she returned her gaze to my mom. “I guess, Natalie, if you can’t take me, I’ll have Lance do it.”
Thank goodness she didn’t ask me.
“I’ll just need your credit card.”
“Tanya, dear, I can’t give you my credit card.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
