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“I’m doing it. For Daniel,” she said.
I knew two things for certain when she spoke those words.
One, Shelly was serious this time. I’d given her ammunition by not looking out for Daniel. My stomach was shredded with the knowledge that he’d gotten hurt under my care, and that Shelly was right, it could have been much worse.
I also knew that whatever bliss I’d shared with Addison had just come to an end. I’d been deceiving us both, pretending I was free to start something, to enjoy something, to share something with her. But in truth, I was not free. I’d let down my guard and my son had paid for it, and now Shelly had the upper hand. I might lose him.
“Daniel, we’ll talk about this,” I promised as my son walked past me, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Fine.” He pushed through the kitchen door, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and I felt my heart go with him, crushed and crumpled like his pack.
“I’ll talk to you Monday,” Shelly said, and her voice held a threat I clearly identified.
I watched them both walk away, and then turned to face Addison.
“Michael, I’m so sorry.”
“For what? You did nothing wrong.” My words came out harsher than I meant for them to.
“I just—“ Addie began.
But I couldn’t hear her. Not now, not when everything I’d imagined was crumbling like sand walls as the inevitable tide washed in to reclaim its territory. I’d failed Dan. I’d failed to keep him safe, to be the dad he needed. I’d failed at the one thing I’d vowed to focus on. “I’m just going to go to bed,” I said, turning toward the stairs.
“Michael—“
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Good night.” My heart felt like it was sinking through my chest, falling like a rock to the bottom of the deepest ocean trench. I didn’t think I’d ever retrieve it from there, and tonight I didn’t have the energy to even try.
30
Mom Love
Addison
Isaw the exact moment Michael gave up on us. Daniel walked right past him as Shelly’s eyes lasered into Michael’s downcast face, and I watched his shoulders fall, his expression dim.
And I knew that whatever this was, whatever this had been, it was done.
I felt awful that Dan had gotten hurt—but then again, he’d come back inside the night before and hadn’t said a thing about stepping on a nail. Was Shelly maybe blowing it a little out of proportion? I couldn’t doubt her really, she was his mother. But why didn’t Dan tell us?
It didn’t matter now. Not where I was concerned. That night, as I lay alone in the king bed in the master bedroom staring at the ceiling, I realized what a fool I’d been.
This house had made it easy to pretend. I’d allowed myself to build an alternate reality, one in which I wasn’t a financial analyst who lived in New York City. One in which I wasn’t a spinster, recently dumped by the man I thought I’d be building a life with. One in which I had everything I ever really wanted.
But I could see now that it was a mirage. One I’d wanted so desperately to believe could be real.
Even Michael was just a flickering falsehood—a version of the man I’d wanted to believe in. One he could never be. Because Michael wasn’t free.
He’d told me himself that he lived in a prison of his own making. He didn’t use those words, of course, but he existed in a cage he built for himself out of regret and guilt over the failure of his relationship with Shelly. Over the mistakes he’d made as a kid and over the opportunities he’d lost as a result.
And now? He was going to choose to step back inside those bars and pull the door shut again, because he thought that was what he deserved.
No amount of convincing from me—that he was a worthy man, that he deserved to be happy, that he was by far one of the most successful people I’d ever met—would change his mind.
So when I woke the next morning with the sun streaming optimistically through the curtains I’d hung, I knew what I needed to do.
Michael was not in the house when I went downstairs. I’d heard his truck start early, and imagined he’d headed off to the store to punish himself some more.
I had coffee and then headed down the hill to the Muffin Tin.
