“I’m sorry, Billie.” Bailey’s voice was soft, so soft I almost missed it.
I looked up at her, caught off guard. “Sorry?”
Her gaze flickered, then steadied. “I’m sorry you had to raise me and Birdie and then step up again when Grandma Betty and Grandpa Bill died for the business and the house. If that’s what’s holding you back… the girls, not wanting to?—”
My hand fluttered up, waving away that theory. “No, it’s not. It was, I don’t know, at first, but not now.”
Bailey inhaled, clearly getting ready for a cross examination, but before she could probe further, Birdie piped in, demanding, “Then what is it?”
I hesitated, tracing the rim of my coffee mug, which had always tasted vaguely of vanilla after Birdie commandeered the machine for her daily dessert lattes. It wasn’t the girls. I thought I wanted freedom, but what was freedom when you spent it being miserable because you had a family you were missing. No, it wasn’t them.
No, what haunted me, what pressed cold and sharp against my ribs, was the suspicion that all of this—the marriage, the grand gestures, the “she’s my wife!” declarations—was just Adam trying to do what he thought was right. Not what he wanted.
“What if that’s the only reason he wants me?” I blurted.
Bailey and Birdie exchanged a glance like synchronized swimmers. “What reason?” they both said.
A million half-finished sentences darted through my head. Birdie’s face was wide open, waiting. Bailey’s was a wall, no, adam, holding back the tide and trying so hard to look neutral it might crack under the strain. Their belief in me was so heavy it sometimes felt like a straitjacket. But I had to say it.
“What if he only wants to be with me because he’s a dad now? Before the girls, he was going to move to London with Genesis. To start an entirely new life with her in a new country. And then, suddenly, he has twins I’m supposed to believe I’m the love of his life?”
Birdie snorted. “That would never have lasted,” she said, waving her hand as if shooing away a cloud of gnats. She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and jabbed atThe Vowmagazine cover, with our faces a millimeter from kissing. “This? This is real. That London thing? That was a joke.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Birdie insisted, picking at a stray thread on her sleeve. “I talked to her at the magazine launch when you guys disappeared and Bailey was trying to find you. She’s all flash and no follow-through. She and Adam only ever managed a weekend together at a time. Sometimes it was a three-day so seventy-two hours, tops, and if you think they used that time for deep, meaningful conversations instead of…” She trailed off, made a face, and waved her hand. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear that.”
“It’s okay.” I tried to sound casual, but the way the words came out, thin and cracked, betrayed me. I pressed my thumb hard against the edge of the desk, grounding myself.
Birdie leaned forward, suddenly serious. “She’s smart, and she’s funny, and obviously gorgeous, but she’s not as nice as she pretends to be. I know he wouldn’t have stayed with her. Ireally, really know it.” She tapped the edge of the magazine for emphasis. “If Adam had moved there, he’d have lasted a few months. Maybe six. He’d have realized it wasn’t real, and thenhe’d come home to find you, and you guys would have ended up together anyway.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. The sudden rush of hope, so bright it was nearly blinding, felt dangerous. Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. “You think so?”
Birdie nodded. “I do. The only thing that kept him away before was his dad, and being in the military. When that was done, he could have gone anywhere, but he came here. He came home. To you.” She smoothed her hands over the desk as if erasing invisible creases. “He’s always belonged with you. The only reason he’s holding back now is… Well, he wants to do right by you and he thinks you don’t want to be you know…tied down with him having the girls now.”
Bailey reached out and put her hand over mine. “That’s the thing, Billie. You are so used to sacrificing for everyone else you can’t even see how much he loves you. You just assume you’re… the fallback plan, but right now, he’s sacrificing by letting you go. He wants to fight for you, but he’s trying to do what he thinks is right by you.”
My phone buzzed again.
“Shit. I’m late.”
“Do you want us to come with you?”
“No, I think I should do this alone.”
“Should I tell Olivia to be expecting you?” Bailey called as I headed out the back door.
“Tell her I hope I’m cancelling!”
My sisters’ voices followed me out, a burst of “You got this!” that trailed into the parking lot and after me like a confetti parade. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the sudden sunlight, but the world outside felt shockingly crisp. The air was cool and breezy, and it made my heart bang against the inside of my chest as I hurried to my car. I had a moment, when my handsstarted shaking so hard I almost dropped the papers as I got in the car, hopefully, I wouldn’t need them.
The drive over to Ever After Matchmaking, I tried to think about what I was actually going to say to Adam. I was so conflicted. I wanted to say that I was sorry, but I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. If I could rewind and do it all again, I would do it all again, exactly the same, just maybe with better emotional boundaries and less running away at the first sign of actual intimacy.
I tried to rehearse lines in my head, but every time I did, my mind skipped like a scratched record. I’d get as far as “Adam, I need to say something—” and then my mental teleprompter would just blank.
The fifteen-minute drive passed in a flash and soon I was parking. There was a particular type of nervousness reserved for walking up to your soon-to-be ex-husband as he waits for you in front of a matchmaking office, and I had it in spades. Adam was easy to spot—tall, gorgeous, hair still damp from a recent shower and doing that rebel-curl thing at his temple. He wore his usual uniform: battered jeans and a navy-blue hoodie, sleeves pushed up over his tatted, muscular forearms. He saw me the second I pulled up, and I swear he smiled for real, the kind of smile that made his whole face light up. He even jogged over to my side of the car and opened my door, like we were on some retro date.
“You think we’re the first people to ever go to a matchmaker to get a divorce?” he teased.
