Page 184 of Collide
But I’m tired. And I can’tunringthe bell.
“You really don’t know, do you?” I murmur.
Philippa’s jaw tightens. “Know what?”
I fight the lump in my throat—the kind that rises when you know the next words will shatter someone’s world, and you’re the one saying them. “Carole wasn’t just some woman Dad met after the divorce, Philippa. She was the reason for the divorce.”
She lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “What? No, that’s—no. They got togetherafter. I remember Mom saying—” She stops mid-sentence, her expression shifting, doubt creeping in.
I give her a knowing look. “What exactly do you remember her saying?”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I push forward. “Did she ever actually tell you that? Or did she…not tell you the truth?”
The color drains from her face. She looks away, shaking her head. “No. That’s not—Dad wouldn’t—Mom would’ve—” She stops again, realization dawning, the cracks in her belief system widening.
She’s piecing it together, whether she wants to or not.
I take a deep breath. “Carole was his mistress for years, amongst other women. Mom knew. She tried to fight for their marriage, but Dad gave her an ultimatum—stay and turn a blind eye, or leave and let him have full custody of you.”
Philippa flinches like I’ve physically hit her. “That’s not possible. Mom—Mom wouldn’t have left me.”
My throat tightens. “She didn’t want to. But he made sure she had no choice.”
She stares at me, eyes wide, glossy. “You’re lying.”
I shake my head. “I wish I was. But it’s the truth. You were a kid, Pip. We both were. You didn’t see what she went through after she left—the anguish, the resentment. The way she hated him for driving her away.”
Philippa blinks rapidly. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
I soften. “Because she didn’t want you to hate him.”
A beat passes, the weight of it all settling in.
And then Philippa does something I didn’t expect.
She laughs.
But it’s a broken, bitter laugh, the kind that barely makes it past her lips.
“You know,” she murmurs, voice hollow. “I spent so many years feeling abandoned. Wondering why she left me. Why you left me. If I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”
Her voice cracks at the last word.
“Pip…” I start, my chest tightening. “She never wanted to leave you. That was the hardest thing she ever did. But she thought she was protecting you.”
She shakes her head, brushing back tears.
“Do you know what it’s like to be nine years old and realize your mom isn’t coming back? To go from having her tuck you in at night to being raised by nannies who come and go like you’re some chore?” She swallows hard. “I spent so much time waiting for her to come back. Waiting forbothof you to come back. Thinking maybe, if I was perfect, she’d change her mind. But she never did.”
I inhale sharply, guilt slamming into me.
Because I had Mom. I had years with her. Philippa only had fleeting moments, a few weeks or a month here and there, when she visited Australia.
“And then there was Carole.” Her voice wavers. “She wasn’t Mom, but she was there. She showed up. Remembered my birthdays, my ballet recitals. Helped me with my homework. She became…something close to a mother to me.”
Her gaze darkens. “And now you’re telling me it was all built on a lie?”
