That was what her very last journal entry was about. It was painful to read, seeing how much she was hurting. I wish more than anything it could have ended better than it did.
“I don’t remember a lot from that night,” I admit. “I woke up in the hospital the next day, confused. I knew your father was the one who had hurt me, I remembered that much, but I had no idea if he did to you what he had done to me. I hit the call button several times, and when no one came to my room, I somehow hobbled into the hallway with a broken ankle. I was frantic, asking if you were okay, but the poor nurse had no idea what I was talking about.”
Lily tightens her grip around me as I talk.
“She finally calmed me down enough to get your information from me, and then she came back to let me know that I was the only one brought in with injuries. She asked me if your father was Andrew Bloom. I told her yes, and I told her I wanted to press charges. When I asked her if she could have an officer come to the room, she looked at me sympathetically. I remember her exact words. She said, ‘The law is on his side, honey. No one turns him in. Not even his wife.’ ”
Lily exhales against my chest, so I pause and press a kiss against the top of her head. “Then what?” she whispers.
“I did it anyway,” I say. “I knew if I didn’t report him, your mother would never get out of that situation. I made the nurse contact an officer, and when one finally arrived that afternoon, he wasn’t there to listen to my statement. He was there to make it clear that if anyone was going to be arrested, it wouldn’t be your father. He said your father could have me arrested for breaking into houses and forcing myself on his daughter. Those were the officer’s exact words, like the relationship you and I had was something criminal. I felt guilty about that for years.”
Lily looks up at me and places a hand on my cheek. “What? Atlas, we’re only two and a half years apart. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”
I appreciate that she says that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I felt guilty for bringing stress into her life. But I also felt guilty for leaving her once I did bring stress into her life. “I don’t know that any choice I made back then would have felt right. I didn’t want to stay and put you in more danger by showing up at your house again. And I didn’t want to be arrested because then I wouldn’t have been able to go to the military. I thought the best thing would be to put space between us, and then someday I would contact you down the line and see if you ever still thought of me like I thought of you.”
“Every day,” she whispers. “I thought of you every single day.”
I run my hand over her back for a while, and then I stroke my fingers through her hair, wondering how in the world she can make me feel so whole when I had no idea I was only half of myself without her.
Of course I’ve missed her all these years, and if I could have snapped my fingers and brought her back into my life, I would have in a heartbeat. But we had built lives without each other, her with Ryle and me with my career, and I assumed that was our fate. I had grown used to not living life with her. But now that she’s back, I don’t know that I could ever feel whole again without her. Especially after tonight.
“Lily,” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond. I pull back a little and can see that her eyes are closed, and her arm has gone limp around me. I’m scared if I move, I’ll wake her up. But I told Josh I’d only be a couple of hours later than the time I initially gave him, and I’m at three hours now. I’m not even sure I’m allowed to leave twelve-year-olds by themselves.
Brad was okay with it when I asked if they were fine by themselves, and if he doesn’t even allow Theo to have a phone, I doubt he’d let me leave them alone while I went on a date unless Brad has left Theo alone before.
Maybe I should google what the age limit is in Boston for a kid to stay by themselves.
I’m overthinking this. Of course, they’re fine. Neither of them has called or texted with any kind of emergency, and twelve-year-olds even babysit other kids sometimes.
I think I’m fine, but I still need to get home. I don’t know Josh well enough yet to be convinced he isn’t throwing a rager in my house right now. I slowly remove my arm from beneath Lily’s head and ease out of her bed. I dress as quietly as I can, and then I go in search of a pen and paper. I don’t want to wake her up, but I don’t want to leave without saying anything. Especially after the night we had.
I find a notebook and a pen in her kitchen drawer, so I sit at the table to write her a letter. When I finish, I take it back to her bedroom and I set the note on the pillow next to her. Then I kiss her goodnight.
Chapter Twenty-Four Lily
There’s a pounding in my head.
And outside my head.
I lift my face off my pillow and feel drool on my chin. I wipe it away with the corner of my pillowcase. I sit up and see that Atlas left a note beside me. I grab for it, but then hear the knock again, so I tuck the note under my pillow for later and force myself to clear space in my foggy brain to make room for what’s happening in this moment.
Emmy is at my mother’s.
I just had the best night of sleep I’ve had in two years.
Someone is at my door.
I reach for my phone on my nightstand and try to focus on the screen. I have several missed calls from Ryle, which makes me concerned something is wrong. But the only thing I have from my mother is a picture of Emmy eating breakfast from half an hour ago.
Phew. Emmy is okay. I immediately relax, but knowing Ryle is probably the one knocking on my door doesn’t allow for much relaxation.
“Hold on!” I yell.
I throw on something quick—a T-shirt and jeans—and then I open the door to let him in. He moves past me, into the apartment, without being invited in. “Is everything okay?” He looks panicked, but also relieved to see that I’m alive.
“I was asleep. Everything is fine.” He can tell I’m annoyed. He glances around the room for Emmy. “She spent the night at my mother’s.”
“Oh.” He’s disappointed. “I tried calling because I wanted to pick her up for a few hours. You weren’t answering your phone, and you’re always awake by now…” Ryle’s voice trails off when he sees the couch. I don’t have to look at the couch to know what he’s staring at. My T-shirt and panties are still tossed haphazardly over the back of it, I’m sure.
“Let me call my mother and let her know you’re coming.” I go get my phone from my room, hoping Ryle isn’t about to question me. He’s ruining the good mood Atlas left me in last night.
When I walk back into the living room, I pause while searching for my mother’s contact on my phone. Ryle is holding a wineglass in his hand, inspecting it. It’s the one Atlas drank from. Mine is on the counter next to it—a clear indication that someone was here with me drinking wine last night.
Before my underwear got removed and left on the couch.
I can see Ryle’s jealousy bubbling over when he sets down the wineglass and looks straight at me. “Did someone stay the night?”
I don’t bother denying it. I’m an adult. A single adult. Well, possibly not single anymore, but that’s another matter. “We’re divorced, Ryle. You can’t ask me questions like that.”
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Ryle immediately responds by taking two quick steps toward me. “I can’t ask you if someone spent the night in the home my daughter lives in?”
I take a step back. “That’s not what I meant. And I wouldn’t bring anyone around her without your approval; that’s why she’s at my mother’s.”
Ryle’s eyes are narrowed, accusing. He looks disgusted by me. “You won’t leave her with me overnight, but you’ll drop her off somewhere else when you want to get fucked?” He laughs. “Great parenting, Lily.”
Now I’m getting angry. “This is only the second time I’ve ever left her overnight since she was born almost a year ago. Don’t shame me for taking a night for myself. And when I do take a night for myself, what I do during that time is not your business.”
Ryle has that look in his eye—the distant void that always took over right before he’d go too far.
My anger instantly turns to fear, and when Ryle can see that I’m backing away from him, he releases this sound of rage. A guttural, angry noise of frustration that reverberates in the room.
He leaves my apartment, slamming the front door shut behind him. I hear him yell the word fuck in the hallway.
I’m not sure which angle his rage is coming at me from. Is he mad I’m moving on? Is he mad my mother has Emmy? Or is it that I allow my mother overnights with her but I’m still not comfortable with Ryle having overnights? Maybe he’s angry about all three things presenting at once.
I blow out a calming breath, relieved he’s gone, but before I can think about what to do next, Ryle is opening my door again. He’s looking at me from the hallway with a very flat affect when he says, “Is it him?”
I can feel my heart catch in my throat when he asks that. He doesn’t say Atlas’s name, but who else could he be referring to? I don’t immediately deny it, which is enough of a confirmation for him.
Ryle looks up at the ceiling briefly, and then shakes his head. “So I had a right to be concerned about him the whole time?”
The entire past few minutes have been a roller coaster of emotions, but nothing has been as tumultuous as the question that just left his mouth. I take a few steps until I’m standing in my doorway, prepared to close the door on him as soon as I say my piece.
“If you truly believe that I would have been unfaithful to you, then go ahead and believe that. I don’t have the energy to keep convincing you otherwise. I’ve explained this to you before, so I’m not saying it again. I never would have left you for Atlas. I didn’t leave you for Atlas. I left you because I deserve to be treated better than the way I was treated by you.”
I go to close the door, but before I can take a step back, Ryle moves forward and pushes me until my back is flat against the open living room door. His eyes are filled with fury when he slides his left hand to the base of my throat, applying pressure as if he wants to hold me in place. He slaps his right palm flat against the door by my head, and it scares me so much, I immediately squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see what’s about to come next.
