Page 3 of Serendipity

And I deserve so much better than Brett.

For the first time in six months, I sleep peacefully. I flipped the mattress over, draped it with a couple of blankets, and even without my silky sheets that I’ve grown accustomed to, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

ChapterOne

LEAH

Two yearslater

When your grouptext with your girlfriends lights up with:

Carissa:Wine and cheese and more wine night. Be there.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t even get into your best outfit because it’s wine and cheese and that has the makings for a great night spent in stretchy pants.

Over the last two years, I’ve found myself. And what I’ve found, I actually like. A whole lot more than I liked myself pre-divorce. Of course, it took an excellent therapist to get me here, but that’s okay with me. I’m happy to meet with her. Look forward to it, in fact.

She helped me to dive into the reasons we did get a divorce, which contrary to what I wanted to believe, the fault didn’t completely fall on Brett’s shoulders. He was right about a few things. I stopped paying attention to him a little bit. Not entirely, but I never instigated sex, rarely talked to him about anything other than the kids, would consistently make decisions for the family and our home without consulting with him. One could argue that he allowed me to take care of everything on my own, but the fact is, I liked it. I liked the control it gave me.

I know that I played my part in our marriage falling apart, but the fact is, he never said anything. He went out and found someone else instead of confronting me or bringing it to my attention. Needless to say, the guilt I felt over my actions that led to his stepping out didn’t last too long. My therapist agreed, but I was grateful she helped me see my role in our marriage. The whole “there’s two sides to every story” is so true.

Because I’m a big girl, I apologized to Brett and he accepted my apology, but didn’t offer his own. I also explained the entire situation with the kids because they’re old enough to hear the truth. They knew Brett had been cheating, but I wanted to make sure they knew my side of it as well. Not the sex instigating part because I wasn’t out to scar them for life. If nothing else, for them to understand what it takes to make a marriage work. Partnership.

To my pleasant surprise, they listened with understanding and didn’t get angry at me. It also made the five of us grow even closer. They appreciated my openness with them and that I was willing to lay it all out there. I can’t pretend that the demise of our marriage was all on Brett, but I can blame him for how he’s acted after.

When I told him that I’d communicated with the kids about my part, he was sure they’d all turn to him, angry with me, and wanting to boot me out of their lives. He accused me of painting him in a bad light anyway, which I reminded him he did all on his own.

That was the beginning of the end of his relationship with our children.

He lashed out at them constantly for not choosing to live with them and for continuing to come to me when they had a problem, even though he made it clear he didn’t reallywantthem living with him and never had time for their problems. He just wanted them to want to. My mother thinks he’s going through a mid-life crisis. I think he’s just a selfish prick. She also thinks we both might be right.

I hear the front door slam shut and voices carry to my bedroom where I’m slipping on a cream-colored oversized sweater that falls off the shoulder and goes just below the waist of my black leggings.

“Boone? Brock?” I holler. “You boys home?”

“We’re home.”

Heavy footsteps pound down the hallway and my boys plus Brock’s best friend Naomi appear in the doorway. While my boys are broad shouldered, tall, and dark-haired, Naomi is a pint-sized little cutie. With her shoulder length blonde hair, freckles over the bridge of her nose and wide deep blue eyes, she looks like the girl next door. Which, for a while, she was. Until we moved away when the kids were little into the house we’re in now. Obviously, I chose not to move. We took a family vote and it was unanimous to stay. But against all odds, Naomi and Brock stayed close. Thick as thieves. No one could penetrate the bond they shared because they discovered friendship with each other before they could walk. Well, aside from boyfriends and girlfriends who have always had a hard time understanding their closeness.

The boys walk in and engulf me in hugs while Naomi stands to the side, smiling at their affection toward me. I might not have been lucky in love, but I won the lottery with my children. They’re good kids, and I don’t say that just because they’re mine. We went through hell when Brett and I got a divorce and we came out of it stronger than ever. I’m pretty blessed that we have an open and honest relationship with each other, even if at times I think they overshare. There are some things a mother doesn’t want to hear, but I encourage open conversations, even if some of them make me cringe.

“How was your day?” I ask each of them.

“Good,” Brock says with a shrug.

“Boring,” Boone grumbles.

“School sucks.”

I grin at Naomi. “School sucks, huh?”

She grins back. “It’s just not for me.”

I give her a side hug. “I know, honey. It’s important, though.”

Naomi is smart as ever, but she definitely is not meant to sit in a classroom all day. She has too much creativity to be cooped up, going to math and science classes that she doesn’t care about. She wants to be a writer. A romance author, to be precise, and I have no doubt she’ll accomplish those goals and crush them.

“What are you all up to tonight?” I ask the group.

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