I shrug. “I don’t know. He might get mad and come back. Hell, this could go on for years.” I look at Darin and smile. “But she’s worth it.”
Three hours later, I’m knocking softly on Lily’s apartment door. I texted her to let her know I was coming. I thought she might need another drive-by hug.
When she opens her door, it’s clear that’s exactly what she needs. And what I need. As soon as we’re inside her living room, she slips her arms around my waist and I fold myself around her. We remain embraced for a couple of minutes.
When she lifts her face, her eyebrows draw apart when she sees the small cut on my lip. “He’s such an immature asshole. Did you put ice on it?”
“I’ll be fine. It didn’t even swell.”
Lily lifts up onto her toes and kisses my cut. “Tell me what happened.”
We sit on the couch and I try to recall everything that was said, but I’m sure I leave a few things out. When I’m finished speaking, she’s leaning against the back of the couch with a leg draped over mine, concentrating. She’s threading her fingers in and out of my hair.
She’s quiet for a long time. Then she just looks at me with a sweetness that melts over me. “I’m convinced you’re the only man on the planet who could get punched and then offer the aggressor advice.” Before I can respond, she’s sliding onto my lap, bringing her face close to mine. “Don’t worry, I find it so much more appealing than if you would have fought him back.”
I slide my hands up her back, surprised she’s in such a good mood. I don’t know why I thought this conversation would be a weight on her. But I guess this is the best possible outcome. Ryle knows we’re a thing, I had a chance to say my piece, and we all came out of it relatively unharmed.
“I can’t stay long, but I can probably stretch this hug out for another fifteen minutes before Josh notices I’m late.”
She raises an eyebrow. “When you say ‘hug,’ do you mean…”
“I mean get naked—we’re down to fourteen minutes.” I push her onto her back and kiss her, and we don’t stop for fourteen minutes. Then seventeen. Then twenty.
It’s thirty minutes later before I finally walk out of her apartment.
Chapter Twenty-Eight Lily
Allysa has the bright idea of just setting them on the floor on a layer of trash bags, so it’ll be an easy cleanup. Emmy and her cousin, Rylee, are both covered in cake now.
Emmy has no idea what’s going on, but she’s enjoying herself. We ended up having a small party for her here at Allysa’s. My mother is here, Ryle’s parents, Marshall, and Allysa.
Ryle is also here, but he’s about to leave. He snaps a couple of photos on his phone before giving both the girls a quick kiss goodbye.
I heard him telling Marshall it’s been a busy day with work, but he made the party. I was happy he made it in time for presents, and he stayed until the cake was mostly demolished. I know it’ll mean something to Emmy someday when she sees the pictures.
We haven’t spoken the entire time he’s been here. We’ve circled around each other, pretending everything is fine in front of everyone, but Ryle is anything but fine. I can feel the tension radiating from him while standing across the room. Being ignored by him is better than being blamed by him, though. I’d take the silent treatment over the alternative any day.
Unfortunately, I don’t get the silent treatment for long.
Ryle is making eye contact with me for the first time today. I made the mistake of standing alone, so he takes this as an opportunity to walk over and stand beside me. I stiffen, not wanting to do this right now. We haven’t spoken since he insulted me while walking out of my flower shop last week. I know we need to have a conversation, but our daughter’s birthday party is not the time or place.
Ryle slips his hands into his pockets. He tucks his chin against his chest and stares at the floor. “What did your lawyer say?”
Anger climbs up my chest. I side-eye him and give my head a shake. “We aren’t having this conversation right now.”
“Then when?”
It’s not really a matter of when, but who with? Because I’m not going to discuss anything while we’re alone ever again. He’s proven to me that I’m not safe when I’m alone with him, so that privilege is over.
“I’ll text you,” I say, and then I walk away, leaving Ryle standing alone. My mother is holding Emmy, wiping cake off her face and hands, so I head in their direction, but Allysa pulls me aside before I reach them.
“Let’s chat,” she says. I follow her to her bedroom, where she sits on her bed.
She only brings me to her bedroom when she wants to confront me about something, and her timing is always impeccably intuitive. I roll my eyes as soon as I walk into her room, and then I sit down on her bed. “What do you want to know?” It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve caught up alone. There’s a lot she could be wondering about my life. It’s been pretty eventful here lately.
Allysa falls back onto the bed. “Things between you and Ryle feel kind of off today.”
“It’s noticeable?”
“I notice everything. Are you okay?”
I think long and hard about that question. Are you okay? I used to hide from that question because I wasn’t okay. Even months after Emerson’s birth, when someone would ask me that, I would put on a smile while I shriveled up inside.
This is the first time I’m not lying when I say, “Yes. I’m okay.”
Allysa regards me silently. There’s a reassurance in her expression, like she might even believe me this time. She grabs my hand and pulls me until I’m lying on the bed next to her. She locks our arms at the elbows, and we just stare up at the ceiling, enjoying a moment of silence in a house full of people.
I’m glad I still have Allysa. That would have been the most heartbreaking thing of all to have to lose in my divorce. I’m grateful she’s so full of forgiveness and positivity.
I wish I could say the same for her brother. Sometimes I feel like Ryle has a monster inside him that is on a constant search to be offended. His dark side feeds off drama, and if no one gives him any, he makes it up. But I can’t be a player in his game anymore. I know my intentions were pure when I was married to Ryle, no matter how much Ryle wanted his delusions to be true so they could excuse his behavior.
“How are things with Adonis?”
I laugh. “You mean Atlas?”
“I said what I said. Adonis, the beautiful Greek god you’re in love with.”
I laugh again. “Wasn’t Adonis a product of incest?”
