And he reminds me of it every single day.
I made this choice. I left him. I filed for divorce.
And I know he’ll echo it to the boys too. They’ll probably grow up and resent me for it. My stomach ties in knots every time I think about it, so I try not to.
Rosie is still looking at me, and I realize I zoned out.
I offer a small smile. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your support. Even knowing you don’t think I’m just blowing smoke about the marriage being bad, it really means a lot.”
“Of course I support you. I never liked Matt. He gave me”—she shivers—“bad vibes, I guess is what I’m trying to say. It’s hard to explain. But I’m confused. At Thanksgiving, you were back with him. I saw a picture on social media of you at his grandmother’s for the holiday. How did the divorce get finalized soquickly?”
I shake my head. “He was just trying to manipulate me into getting back with him. I’d filed for divorce in the summer. Our temporary custody agreement stated that he had them for Thanksgiving, and he invited me to join his family so I could see the boys. It was a huge mistake. They were all on a mission to guilt me into moving back in with him and delaying the divorce.”
“Ahh, I see. So, you’ve been separated for a while. I saw that photo and just assumed. I should’ve reached out and asked you directly.”
“It’s not your fault for assuming. I would have done the same. I was emotionally so drained—still am. It’s been hard to touch base with people and fill them in. I know there are assumptions going around. I’m being called all kinds of things. I want the people in my life I care about, like you, to know the truth. Everyone else can eat shit.”
She bursts out laughing, tossing back her head of thick copper-red hair. “Well, I’m glad to be in the category of those who get an explanation. So, your parents aren’t supportive?”
“No, they are. I think they’re just confused. My mom is coming down to stay with me and help with the boys for a little bit. It’s hard for them to wrap their minds around it. They cared about Matt. They viewed him as a son. It’s difficult for them to imagine him mistreating me. I just need to talk to them more. His mom is being really great, too, actually. She’s been understanding and kind, which I’m so grateful for.”
She nods, but her eyes are on the twins. “Birdie! Give that bucket back to your sister. We don’t take things.” She turnsback to me. “I hope they come around and realize this is what’s best for y’all. Where are you living now?”
Heavy footsteps come up behind us, and I turn to see Holden approaching.
“At the Creekview Apartments in Elmott.”
I don’t mention that I only qualified for a one-bedroom, so I’m sleeping on the sofa when the boys are with me. The full-size bed is only big enough for them.
Holden’s brows pinch together. “Creekview?”
I nod, looking away. I know it’s a sketchy area, but with their very loose rental requirements, it was the only place I could qualify for with so little work history and poor credit.
They don’t say anything else about the apartments. I get up to go split the boys up before they hurt each other. I usually let them brawl, waiting to interfere until it looks like someone might get injured. I peel Dawson away from Dutton, narrowly escaping a swift kick to the shin from his little boot.
“Hey, that’s enough. You’re scaring the girls.”
The girls have mostly gotten used to them, observing from a safe distance. I make my way back over to Holden and Rosie. I grab the glass of water sweating on the picnic table and take a long swig.
“Duke is going to stay with him for the next few days until hospice can fit us in. He’s taking the meds, finally.”
“Mixing them with whiskey, I’m sure,” Rosie says.
I can’t help but ask, “Who?”
Rosie sighs. “Pops was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He’s going to need full-time care soon, and the outcome isn’t looking good.”
“Oh wow. I’m so sorry.” I sink back down on the bench, feeling a pang of guilt for babbling on about my divorce when this is what they’re going through as a family.
Holden shakes his head, clasping his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve known for a while he would either die from the alcoholism or a disease as a result of it. He’s refused to slow down for years.”
I nod, unsure of what to say. I knew Holden’s father has had an alcohol addiction since his wife, Caroline, died in a car accident years ago. Rosie told me once before that Holden and his siblings feel like the father they knew died with her that day.
I shift on the bench, listening to the kids play and the birds singing.
“So, Duke said you canceled the roping lessons,” Holden remarks.
Rosie raises a brow. My cheeks flush. I start drawing circles with my thumb in the condensation of my glass.