Page 118 of Beautifully Messy
And somehow, I laugh. The tension slips from my shoulders.
I shake my head, smiling at this beautiful man I get to call mine. I reach for the menu, our fingers brushing briefly. “We’ll need wine. A lot of it.”
“Already on it.” He pulls a bottle of Pinot Noir from the rack. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”
***
Later,afterItuckAnna into bed, I curl up beside her, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, steadying myself for the conversation ahead. Her voice whispers through the dark. “Mama, I loved today. Will Unca J play again?”
The innocent question hits with a gentle ache. Tomorrow. The day after. Every day, if I have my way.
“Yes, Bug. I think he will.” I brush a curl from her cheek and slip out to find Mason.
It’s time to finish this once and for all.
He’s on the back deck, hunched over the fire pit with a glass of whiskey, his gaze lost in the flames. He’s resisted more than I expected. I knew he’d push back, but not this hard, not for this long. The late-night texts and pleas to try again. Dinners to talk things through. Contesting the divorce. Even showing up for Anna in ways he never had before—taking her on fun outings, giving her his timewhen they were together. He’s now decided parenting is worth showing up for, or maybe he’s trying a new manipulation tactic.
I sit down beside him, wrapping my arms around myself, and tilt my head to the stars scattered across the onyx sky.
“It’s beautiful out here. I always forget how quiet this place is compared to D.C.” Mason’s voice barely carries over the crackle of the fire.
“That’s always been the appeal,” I say, though the quiet here was only another space filled with silence between us. But no amount of beauty can disguise the truth. This place—home to so many holidays, the place where I fell in love with his family and with someone else—isn’t where I belong anymore.
“Mason, I think we need to talk about the future.”
The fire cracks loudly, a sharp punctuation in the cold air.
“Is this when you tell me you’re moving home?” His words sound hopeful, but when I look over at him, he knows what’s coming.
“No. We aren’t getting back together.”
“Do I get a say in this? In my own marriage?”
“Please don’t do this. Just sign the divorce papers. We haven’t been good for a long time. I know you’ve felt it too.”
“Syd, we promised forever.” He inhales deeply and exhales even slower. But no amount of breathing hides the edge in his voice.
“We’ve had this conversation so many times. We’ve changed. And I can’t ignore that anymore.” My own voice sharpens. I hope he hears the conviction and stops.
“I can do better. Iwill.”
“You deserve better, too. I’m not in love with you. I wouldn’t trade our years together or Anna for anything. But we both deserve better than this.”
My thumb brushes over my bare ring finger. Instead of feeling empty, it feels whole.
“So this is it?” His eyes shine with unshed tears. Tears I’ve never seen from him.
“We have Anna,” I speak in a tone you’d use when trying not to provoke a wild animal. “I hope we can be good co-parents. She deserves that. We can give her a steady, loving life even if we aren’t together.”
We sit side by side, staring out at the night, two people who once promised forever, now facing the quiet of an ending.
“Can we tell your family tomorrow, once everyone’s here?” I ask.
“Are you withhim?” His eyes narrow.
“This isn’t about anyone else, Mason.” I pause, making sure he’s hearing the truth I’m giving him. “It’s about me. About what I need for myself.”
Mason stares at me. His jaw tightens. Whatever vulnerability cracked through earlier slams shut. Without a word, he walks inside.
