Page 8 of The Love Syllabus

I sigh, the moment of levity fading. “I don’t need help being an adult,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm.

She waves me off like I’ve just told her the sky is purple. “I know, I know. You’re a grown woman. Blah, blah, blah.” She steps into the room fully, hands on her hips. “Your father and I just want you to move forward in life. There’s a thin line between taking time to find yourself and fearing what you might discover when you do. Now, what the heck do we have to do to get you out of our house? I’m so tired of having boring sex.”

My mouth falls open. “Mom!”

She shrugs, unbothered. “What? It’s the truth.”

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “You’re impossible.”

But then her expression softens, and she steps closer, her voice dropping to something quieter, something real. “Kerry, listen to me. I know your dad, and I can be… a lot. We meddle, we push, we joke too much. But it’s because we love you. Always have. We’re proud of our sweet little unemployed daughter.”

“Mom!” I groan, swatting at her playfully.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” She chuckles, then grows serious again. “But seriously, you’re amazing, Kerry. And though we pressure you with our dreams of happiness for you, you don’t owe us a thing. You don’t oweanyoneanything—not your time, not your sacrifices, not your well-being, and definitely not your happiness.

“If you ever felt like you had to stay with Cory or put your dreams on hold just to keepusoranyoneelse happy… I’m sorry for that.” Her words land with a weight I didn’t expect, stirring up feelings I’ve kept buried under layers of stubbornness and pride.

“Mom…” I start, but my voice catches.

She gently cups my cheek, brushing away a tear I hadn’t even realized had fallen. “You survived the hell Cory put you through, and you’re still standing tall. You’re strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. All your dad and I want is for you to be happy, whole, and confident. And you define what that looks like, what it feels like. No one else.”

I blink back tears and pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Mom. That means more than I can say.”

She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, hers filled with pride. “You’re beautiful, you know that? You remind me of myself at your age—all fire and determination. Tonight, I want you to have fun. Celebrate your friend’s success. And remember,yoursis right around the corner.” Her words wrap around me like armor.

“You think so?” I whisper.

She nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Iknowso. Now, go out there and enjoy yourself. No overthinking. No talking about jobs or bills. Just have fun.”

I give her one last squeeze, grab my pink satin clutch, and step out into the crisp evening air—a renewed sense of confidence blooms within me.

Sure, I’m unemployed and on the brink of a meltdown, but it’s not the end of the world. Everyone deserves a stress-free night of fun, and maybe tonight will be the distraction I need. Or better yet, the turning point I’ve been waiting for.

But as the cool air hits my skin, my stomach tightens as a grim realization hits. I’m probably going to have to facehim.

Cory Martin. My shitty ex-husband.

Still, I square my shoulders, my heels clicking against the pavement with purpose. Mom’s right. I don’t owe anyone a damn thing.

And tonight, I’ll remind Cory, the world, and myself who the hell I am.

Happy. Resilient. Strong. And absolutely no one’s stepping stone ever again.

Chapter 3

Victor Grimes – Vic

Peace finds us in unexpected places, often when we least expect it but precisely when we need it most. For me, peace didn’t come from reaching for it; it found me when I let go of everything. It emerged from the darkest shadows of my life—a time filled with chaos, tragedy, fear, and heartbreak. And it came in the most beautiful form imaginable: my family, my greatest blessings, my daughters.

“Dad, stand up straight and stop pouting. You’re making the suit look ugly,” Sydney, my precocious six-year-old, commands, her tiny hands on her hips as she hands me my cufflinks. Her brow furrows in a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Are you sure it isn’t the suit?” I grumble, casting a dramatic glance at the mirror. “I look ridiculous. No, beyond ridiculous—I look hideous. Might as well burn everything.”

Ms. Tina, my house manager, snorts, trying and failing to suppress her laughter. The rest of the staff isn’t doing much better.

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Ariel, my too-wise-for-her-own-good nine-year-old, chimes in, her voice dripping with gentle sarcasm.

I scan the room, catching the barely contained smiles of the staff. “Oh, so, I’m the household joke now, am I?” I say, the corner of my mouth twitching as I feign indignation.

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