The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(8)

“What are you talking about?”

“Divorce, Ainsley! Divorce. That nasty little D word. I tried to shield you from it as much as possible growing up. I tried to make sure you never saw the worst parts, but still, I couldn’t protect you from everything. You see what the divorce did to me. Here I am, struggling to keep up with the house and all the bills your father left behind. Do you see your father struggling? Well, you won’t. Because divorced men have it easy. They aren’t tainted goods like we are. You mark my words, if you give Peter the chance to find out he has options that don’t involve coming home every night to a nagging wife and chores, he’ll surely take it. Whatever you have to do, whatever you have to say, you make this right.” She wagged her finger at me. “You make this right today. Before Peter has a chance to realize what an opportunity he has in front of him. Because he will. And then…” She sighed, shaking her head with a haunted look in her eyes. “Then it’ll be too late.”

Bitterness filled my chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” she challenged, squaring her shoulders to mine. “Take a good long look at my life, honey. Unless you want this to be yours, I suggest you start watering the grass at home and making sure your husband is taken care of.”

I stood, indignation filling me. She had no idea what I’d done in order to make my marriage work. She had no idea what I’d sacrificed all in the name of making my husband happy.

I was my mother’s daughter, after all.

But I had someone new to think about now. A daughter of my own. And I would be mortified to learn she’d done even half of what I had in order to save a marriage with a man who didn’t deserve her.

And Peter didn’t deserve me.

“I know you fought to keep Dad around after he found out about your affair—”

She fell forward again with a dramatic gasp. “You just had to dig the knife in on that, didn’t you?”

“I know you tried, Mom,” I went on. “I do. And I know Dad has gone on to build what you probably think is a pretty nice life. But not every divorce is that way. And not every marriage is worth saving—”

“But yours is—”

“You know nothing about my marriage,” I spat, my tone more biting than I’d meant it to be.

She pulled back from the counter in shock.

I put my hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, but you don’t. Believe me, I have tried. I have tried everything I know to do. But I will not put myself second for the sake of my marriage. I will not put those kids second. Maybe that’s the life you want for me, but it’s not what I want for my children. It’s not what I would want for Maisy. And if our marriage isn’t what I’d want for her, then what am I even doing?”

“Kids don’t know any better. They don’t see the unhappiness. No one’s truly happy.” She waved it off as if happiness were as realistic as sprouting wings and flying away. “What those kids need is two parents who will stay together no matter what. They need stability. Have I taught you nothing?”

“I can give them stability. Trust me, I am much more stable without Peter than I ever was with him.”

“I doubt that.” She shook her head, turning away from me. “Maisy needs her father. Those boys need a good male role model. If you let Peter leave, it’s pure selfishness. If you can live with that, fine, but don’t trick yourself into believing you’re doing it for the kids, Ainsley. You’re doing it for yourself. Because it’s the easiest thing for you. If you can live with that, I guess there’s nothing left to say.” With that, she picked up the cloth once again and stormed from the room, leaving me to process everything she’d said.

It had been a mistake to come here, that much was obvious. But what choice did I have? Where could we go?





CHAPTER SIX





PETER





My wife never failed to surprise me.

She’d been by the house—evidenced by the bedroom door left open and the black footprints she’d tracked down the hall. It was okay. I’d have to have the carpets cleaned anyway, along with repairing the damage her little tantrum had done to our bedroom. But, these things could be fixed. Forgiven.

We were all entitled to a bit of less-than-perfect behavior now and again.

I pulled what was left of the duvet and sheets from the bed, shoving them into the trash bag in my hand.

The mattress was in rough shape. It would have to be discarded.

What a shame, really.

So many good times on that thing.

I sighed. She’d started the fire in the bedroom, and I had to believe that was on purpose. She’d wanted me to know she was torching our marriage—our family—right along with our home.

But, this time, I’d saved it.

Saved our home, if not our bed.

And, given enough time, I’d save our family too.

With the sheets tied safely in the bag, I tossed it aside and began shoving the mattress from the bed frame. The box spring beneath the mattress had minimal damage and the flooring underneath was untouched. Gray smoke had stained nearly every other surface in the room.

I pulled out the vacuum and set to work.

Whenever I brought them all home, I wanted to be sure there was no sign of what had happened here. It would be like nothing ever happened at all. There was no need for the reminder, and I doubted the kids knew anything about it in the first place.