Page 68 of Make You Stay

“Can we write you letters?” Jeff inquires, grasping my hand.

I glance at Charlie, who nods his approval, before giving the boys my address. “This is my North Carolina address. Since I have to fly down there for a bit, I’m having my mail forwarded. I’d love to get letters from you both.”

Do I think I will? No, which is part of why I gave them the North Carolina address. I won’t be there to see their letters not arrive.

With a few last hugs, I watch them leave, realizing it’s likely the last time I’ll ever see them. No doubt my address will conveniently disappear. I can’t blame Charlie. It’s too complex a situation, and I’m not their mother.

I’m not their anything.

Not anymore.

That idea brings on a new rash of tears, so I head for home, desperate for the familiar. But my tiny apartment is suffocating, and the noise overwhelming.

I slide on headphones to deaden the sounds of the street, wishing they made something similar to dull the pain in my heart.

No such luck.

My realtor calls from North Carolina. Maybe I already have a buyer. Wouldn’t that be a trip?

Nope, no buyer, but a blizzard, heading for the area. She wants to know if I properly winterized my house, and with a start, I realize I haven’t.

I can call Aidan or Enid, but I’d rather chew nails.

I can risk it, hoping the house will limp through unscathed, but a burst pipe will cost thousands in repairs and delay any potential sale.

With a sigh, I head for my closet.

Looks like I’m North Carolina bound.

Chapter 15

Aidan

“Oh, Lord, please tell me the beard isn’t making a comeback.”

So much for getting any peace this morning.

Squinting up into the sun, I nod at the shadowy outline of my ex-wife. “Don’t lie. I know you secretly miss the beard.”

“I hate the damn thing.” She pulls up a deck chair, huffing out a sigh as she sits. “Have you heard from Chloe?”

I shake my head, intent on repairing the broken lock in my hands. Seems I’ve found a myriad of projects to keep me busy these last few weeks, as the sinking sensation sets in that the woman I love isn’t returning to North Carolina.

The first week was bad but tolerable. The second week was awful, and this week is pure unadulterated hell. The empty house next door looms as a reminder of what I let go of.

What I’ve lost.

“I blame myself for this situation. You know, I gave you way too much credit.”

I shrug as I continue working. “I won’t pretend I know to what you’re referring. I’m not playing this game with you, Enid.”

“I told Chloe to discuss having a baby with you. Pushed her to broach the subject.”

“It was you?”

“I knew how important it was to her, and I mistakenly thought she was important to you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” My anger has ridden a razor’s edge these last few weeks, and once again, it flies back into the red.

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