“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.
A huge wave of anxiety and fear rolls over me so intensely, I’m scared I might pass out. I can feel Ryle’s breath crashing against my cheek as it moves through his clenched teeth because his face is so close to mine. My heart is pounding so hard, there’s no way he can’t feel that fear beating against his palm with the way his hand is pressed against me. I want to scream, but I’m terrified if I make a noise, it’ll make him even angrier.
Several seconds pass between the moment Ryle pins me against the door and the moment he starts to realize what he’s done. What more he was likely about to do.
My eyes are still shut, but I can feel the remorse in the way he leans forward and presses his forehead against the door, right next to my head. He still has me caged in, but he’s released the pressure in the hand that was gripping my neck, and there’s a struggling sound coming from him, as if he’s trying not to cry.
It takes me back to the last night he hurt me. The apologies he was whispering as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
My heart is shattered, because Ryle hasn’t changed at all. As much as I hoped he had, and as much as I know he wanted to, he’s still the same man he’s always been. I somehow held on to a sliver of hope that he had become stronger for Emmy, but this is absolute confirmation that I’m making the right choices for her.
Ryle is clinging to me like I can make this better, and at one point in time I thought I could. He’s a broken man, but he isn’t broken because of me. He was broken before he met me. Sometimes people think if they love a broken person enough, they can be what finally repairs them, but the problem with that is the other person just ends up broken, too.
I can’t afford to allow anyone to break me anymore. I have a daughter I need to be whole for.
I gently press my hands against his chest and urge him back into the hallway. When I’m finally in a position where there’s enough space between us to shut the door, I close it and lock it, and then I immediately call my mother and tell her to put Emmy in the car and meet me at the park. I don’t want them to be at her house if Ryle still plans on showing up there.
After I end the call, I move with purpose through my apartment. If I stop and allow myself to get lost in what just happened, I might cry. I don’t have time to cry right now. I get dressed to go to the park because I need to be present for my daughter in every way that I can be.
Before I walk out the door, I grab the note Atlas wrote me and tuck it into my purse. I have a feeling his words are going to be the only bright spot to this day.
My premonition is coming true. I hear a loud clap of thunder as soon as I pull into the parking lot of the park. There’s a storm brewing to the east, and it’s heading this direction. Fitting.
It’s not raining yet, though, so I scan the playground until I spot my mother. She’s holding Emmy, and they’re going down the slide together. She hasn’t spotted me yet, so I take a moment to pull Atlas’s letter out of my purse. I’m still reeling from my interaction with Ryle. I’d like to read something that can hopefully put me in a better mood before I greet my daughter.
Dear Lily,
I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye, but you fall asleep so easily. I don’t mind it—I like watching you sleep. Even when it’s in a car in the middle of a date.
I used to watch you sleep sometimes when we were younger. I liked how peaceful you looked, because when you were awake, there was always a quiet fear in you. But when you slept, the fear was gone, and it always put me at ease.
I can’t begin to tell you what tonight meant to me. I don’t think I have to put it into words because you were here. You felt it, too.
I know I mentioned earlier that I carried a lot of guilt about what happened between us, but I don’t want you to think I carry regret for loving you back then. If there’s anything at all I regret, it’s that I didn’t fight harder for you. I think that’s where the majority of my guilt stems from—knowing if I didn’t leave you, you never would have met a man who would end up hurting you the way your father hurt your mother.
But no matter how we got here, we’re here. I had to get to a point where I realized I was always worthy of being loved by you. I hate that we didn’t get here sooner, because there are so many things in your life I wish you didn’t have to go through, or that I could have prevented. But any other path wouldn’t have given you Emerson, so I’m grateful this is where we ended up.
I love watching you talk about her. I can’t wait to get to know her. But that’ll come in time, along with all the otherthings I’m looking forward to. We’ll continue to take this at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. Whether I get to talk to you every day or see you once a month, anything is better than the years I had to go not knowing anything about you.
I’m so happy you’re happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.
