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He shakes his head. “I told her I would call her every nightbefore bed and I’d try to come by and see her at least once this week. I hope that’s okay with you.” He grabs his canvas jacket from the bench and slides it over his shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s fine. You know I don’t want you out of her life. That’s not the reason for all this,” I gesture outside to Duncan’s truck loaded with the last of Jared’s boxes.
“No, I know. It’s because I can’t be your perfect romantic hero.” He gives me a wry smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I never asked you to be perfect. I just wanted you to show me you cared. That you loved me, that you thought about me, even when I wasn’t directly in front of you.” I sit up a little straighter, the frustration like a steel rod in my spine.
“I did my best, but it was never enough for you.” His arms uncross and he grips the island so hard, his tanned knuckles turn white.
“What part of never setting a date for the wedding, never doing anything for my birthday or our anniversaries, and never taking me out says you ‘did your best’?” This is an old, tired argument, but we bait each other into it, regardless.
His brow creases in anger even though I see a flicker of what might be remorse in his dark eyes. “I’ve apologized a million times for those things! Sorry I was working my ass off to make sure Emma was taken care of. I didn’t have time for that stuff.”
I roll my eyes. “I was working, too! But I still remembered to celebrate your birthday. I still tried to do things that interest you. Hell, I even tried to fix our sex life.” I whisper the last comment, not wanting Emma to hear. “The point is, we both have a lot going on. We’ve both been stressed, but for the last five years, I’m the only one who’s been putting in any effort.” The anger deflates as quickly as it surged. I am tired of this argument. I take a deep breath and rake my fingers through my long auburn hair.
“I know,” he says quietly, “I really am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” He looks down at his feet, a line etched between hisbrows. His hands relax from their grip on the island and he shakes them out.
“I know,” I echo his words, peering into my half-empty coffee cup. I sigh and change gears to something we can agree on, “Look, just call me every night at eight. I’ll hand my phone over so you can talk to Emma. I don’t want this to affect her any more than it has to. We have to work together for her.”
He gratefully takes my opening to switch subjects, “Yeah, okay. On Wednesday, I’ll bring her by to show her the new place and we can have dinner. I’ll just pick her up from school and have her home by seven. Does that work for you?”
I nod, a small smile on my lips. Despite everything, I am so thankful to be co-parenting with him. He puts Emma above all else. We both want her to be happy. It’s such a switch from what I had growing up. I know firsthand how much separation can mess a kid up. I’m determined to make sure pick-ups and drop-offs don’t include shattered kitchenware and threats spit between clenched teeth. I won’t repeat the cycle.
He looks around the kitchen one last time, his jaw working. I wonder if he’s taking stock of everything he’s improved in here. The utensil drawer with its replaced track, the new hosing for the dishwasher, the replaced faucet…
Even though he’s technically just moving into his apartment today, he’s been sleeping in the guest room for the last month. He’s also been out as often as possible, either working more overtime or out with Duncan. This hasn’t felt like his home in a while, but today makes it feel more final.
I stand, ready to get this over with. “Okay, well, call me if you need anything. Maybe some decorating help so your apartment doesn’t look like a total bachelor pad, for Emma’s sake.”
He rolls his eyes with a smile. “Will do. I’ll call at eight tonight. See you later?” He starts to head for the front door.
“Sounds good,” I say, going to the door behind him. I watch him jump into the passenger seat of the truck, and wave goodbyeas he closes the door, the midday sun glinting off the window and hiding him from view. I blow out a breath and lean against the door, yanking the sleeves of my shirt down to cover my hands from the early spring chill. I feel proud that I’m not repeating my parents’ mistakes, but nervous all the same.Now my new life begins.
CHAPTER 2
Summer
My first week as a solo parent flies by. Between work and the daily routine of school, gymnastics, dinner, and bedtime, I am so exhausted that I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow. I don’t even have time to escape into my romance books. Being a single parent has rocked me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Jared may have made for a shitty partner, but he has always been a good dad. We split the parenting duties in a well-coordinated dance that we perfected over the years. I hate to admit it, but doing this without him is hard.
It’s Friday night, Emma is in bed, and I finally have a chance to sink into the couch with a book. I toss my checkered throw blanket over my lap and crack open my new billionaire romance. Sipping on my glass of wine, I get through almost half of the story before my eyes are too heavy to continue. By the time Gabi tells Lucas that she won’t be coming with him on their “business trip” to Europe, I realize it’s almost midnight and I need to get to bed.
I rinse my wine glass in the sink before going down the hall. On the way, I peek into Emma’s room to make sure she’s still sleeping. It’s a habit I think I’ll have until she moves out. I head down to my bedroom and set my book on my nightstand. I cannever be too careful with where I keep my spiciest books now that Emma has advanced beyond the beginning stages of reading.
I change into comfy pajamas and brush my teeth in the harsh overhead light of the bathroom, contemplating the book I’m reading. Lucas is a big fan of grand gestures. Giant bouquets dropped off on Gabi’s doorstep, buying her the expensive coat she was eyeing when they went shopping together, and a loosely-disguised business trip to Europe, just because she said she’d never been.
My heart swoons at the thoughtfulness of it all. It breaks a little, too. I never expected Jared to do anything like that, but I just wanted him to show he cared about me. I wanted him to shoot me a text when he was at work to tell me he loved me, or maybe pick up my favorite candy when he was at the convenience store, or take me out on a date every once in a while.
When Emma was a baby and I was at home with her, I started reading to pass the time. I quickly discovered romance was my favorite genre. They were sweet, easy to read, ended happily, and provided a reprieve from the daily grind of motherhood.
At first, I would roll my eyes as the hero went above and beyond for his love interest, thinking that no man would do such things. Once men had you, I reasoned, they grew content and stopped trying. I thought I was okay with that. I thought I was “in the know”, like the rest of the women before me who had settled for what their partner was willing to give. But the more I read, the more I started to realize that I deserved passion and to feel valued. While I never expected Jared to pull the same stunts as the men in my books, I wanted more than just the promise of love on the tip of his tongue while his eyes looked past me.
When I started bringing it up to him, he insisted that his words should be enough. That he shouldn’t have to prove himself.
Over the last few years, it's been a constant back and forth. I would try to encourage Jared to do things with me. Ioffered things like going on a date or finding video games we could play together. He would go along with it for a week or two, and I’d think things were getting better. Then, he’d fall back into his old routine, playing video games with Duncan every night after Emma went to bed, forgetting to kiss me goodbye in the mornings, and being too tired for sex. So the cycle would continue.
At some point, he started to pay attention to what I was reading and that’s when the arguments really took off.
“‘Love Me Like You Hate Me.’ Summer, what is this?” He bursts into our bedroom and holds up one of my latest romance purchases like it’s covered in filth. I feel my cheeks redden as I snap my eyes up from my aimless scrolling.
