Page 9 of On the Line

“Okay, so how do we make this happen?” Jackson asks. She loves a good challenge, and I can already see the plan coming together in her mind. “What do you need us to do?”

“I mean, can you sell this house for me and find me a new place in Boston? Preferably something a little more ...” I glance around at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining space and the lofted ceilings of the attached living room. This house is beautiful, but it’s soJoshthat sometimes I have a hard time seeing anything of myself reflected in our home. “I don’t know ...”

“A little moreyou?” Petra suggests.

“Yeah. Maybe something more modest? Something homey where the girls and I can be comfortable, and I don’t have to worry about them getting lost if we play hide-and-seek.”

“I’m on it,” Jackson says, picking up her wineglass from the table. “Or at least, I’m going to get Nate to help with this. There’s a realtor he worked with when we lived here, and she is amazing. I bet she could sell this place in two seconds.” Before Jackson and Nate bought Blackstone Mountain, the ski resort in New Hampshire where they’d met and raced as teenagers, Nate had built himself what we jokingly refer to asa small real estate empire. “We’re going to find you the perfect new place in Boston, and then we’re all finally going to be close enough to see each other more frequently.”

I allow myself to feel the flicker of excitement that lights in my chest at this possibility. There’s nothing left for me in Park City, and the thought of starting over closer to friends and family brings the first sense of hope I’ve felt since Josh died.

But then, a shadow falls across the table and when I look over my shoulder, my mother-in-law is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. And she does not look pleased.

She’s gone as quickly as she appeared, without saying a thing. It’s par for the course—her disapproval of me weighs heaviest in her silence.

“Someone doesn’t love that idea,” Paige mutters under her breath.

“I can’t imagine why,” I say quietly enough that there’s no way I could be heard from the kitchen. “It’s not like she’ll care if I stay or go.”

“What about the girls, though?” Sierra asks. “Do you think she’ll feel like you’re taking her granddaughters away?”

I practically snort. “The only thing she’ll miss is the opportunity for photos with them, so she can post the pictures on social media and all her friends can tell her what a great grandmother she is.” In truth, she’s seen the girls twice in the last six months—once in the fall for Josh’s birthday, and then on Halloween because it was the first time the girls were old enough to dress up and trick-or-treat.

“So don’t factor her opinion into your decision, then,” Petra says. “You’ve got to do what’s best for you, and given everything that’s happened here, maybe a fresh start is the right choice.”

Sierra puts her hand on my forearm where it rests on the table. “You know I want you close by. I miss you like crazy. But ...” She takes a deep breath. “I also don’t want you to do anything rash while you’re grieving. I’m sure Boston is appealing right now, as a fresh start and a way to be closer to us and your family. But you and Josh had a great life here, in this home. Are you sure you want to walk away from those memories?”

My eyes meet Petra’s across the table, and she raises her eyebrows and gives me a little nod.Tell them, the look says.

I take a deep breath, considering how freeing it could feel to finally unload the truth on my friends rather than having to hide behind a wall of lies. “Things may have appeared better than they actually were.”

“What do you mean?” Paige asks, right as Morgan sits down next to me and slides a plate of food in front of me.

I pick up the fork from the plate and stab a piece of kung pao chicken.

“Things have been a little rocky between Josh and me for a while now.”

There’s no collective gasp or anything, but I can sense the surprise that pops up around the table as I tell them about how things started changing when we became parents. “I kept setting milestones in my mind, like ‘when the girls get to X point, things will be better between us.’ But Josh only traveled more. It felt like ... like he was trying to escape. And every time I brought it up, every time I mentioned wanting and needing him to be around more ...” I swallow as my eyes fill with tears.

“He gaslit her into thinking she was clingy and insecure,” Petra fills in for me. My friends look at her, clearly surprised she’s speaking ill of someone who just died, but I get it: she’s the one who was there when I went through this.

“When Petra figured it out, she convinced me to go to therapy, which did help a bit. But I wanted Josh to go with me, too, and he refused.”

Morgan puts her arm across the back of my chair and squeezes my shoulder.

“I should have known,” she says. “I’m here all the time. I should have realized.” Her voice is small, and I hate that I’ve made her feel like she’s done anything wrong in this situation.

“No, I kept it pretty well hidden. I didn’t want anyone else to worry.” I wipe away the tears that are streaming down my face, and my voice cracks when I admit, “I thought maybe a big change, like moving to Boston, could be a fresh start for us as a family.”

The silence in the air is tangible, like a weighted blanket that hugs you so tightly it starts to feel oppressive.

“I want you close by,” Paige says, “but if Boston is where you wanted a fresh start with Josh, is it the right choice for you now?”

“That’s a good question.” I push the food around my plate. “I wanted to be back in Boston because it had everything I needed—career opportunities, family, and my best friends close by. All of that is still true.”

“Itsoundsgood,” Sierra says, “but I still think you shouldn’t make a big, life-changing decision so soon after ... everything. Maybe give it a little time. I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. Right now, the thought of being here in Park City once you all leave,” I say as I glance around at my friends and my sister, “has me feeling a little ... trapped.”

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