“That’s awful.”
He nods. “It took her a year to bounce back. Then, suddenly, she was a completely different person. Talking about how she’d never had an adventure of her own. Announced that she was going to take that cruise after all, that she was going to learn how to live life on her own terms.” His voice lowers. “And she never came back.”
My breath catches in my chest. “She… died?”
“No, nothing like that,” Jesse says quickly, lending a forgiving laugh to ease the look of horror on my face. “She decided that she wanted to keep exploring.” The smile melts from his face. “Apparently, she had always had dreams of traveling the world and never got to live them out while my father was alive. I guess we were all holding her back.”
“Oh, Jesse,” I say. I reach forward, placing a hand on his wrist. “I’m sure that’s not how she felt.”
He shrugs but doesn’t meet my eye. “I’ve only seen her a handfulof times in the past few years. She spent six months backpacking through Europe before settling in India to focus on meditation. Last year, she met some guy named Viktor at an ashram. Told us he was her guru, and together, they are ‘traveling the path to enlightenment.’ She didn’t even make it home for Christmas because the two of them were doing a silent retreat in Bali.”
He keeps his gaze fixed on the fire as he drags a hand through his curls.
“I want her to be happy. I just wish she didn’t need to leave us behind to do it. It’s like I lost both parents back-to-back.”
I squeeze his wrist, encouraging him to go on. But it seems to have the opposite effect. He blinks and the clouds clear from his expression. Then he rolls back his shoulders and sits up straighter.
“It’s getting late,” he says. “I should go home and let my dog out.”
I take my hand back and nod, feeling embarrassed. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, to touch him. Maybe I didn’t read the room.
Maybe this isn’t what I thought at all, and reality truly has settled back in.
“Of course,” I say, slipping into a voice that sounds stable and collected and not at all as uncertain as I feel. “Let me just put the fire out and I’ll walk you to the truck.”
16MARISSA
There’s a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen when I descend the staircase the next morning. I can hardly contain my surprise when I see Rocky in the kitchen, dressed in an apron and standing over the range. I would have been less surprised to discover an axe murderer had broken in and decided to treat us to a lovely breakfast before chopping us to pieces.
“Am I hallucinating, or did you learn how to use the stove?”
Rocky flashes a megawatt smile, showcasing his perfect dimples and equally perfect veneers. He paid a fortune to make his teeth look as naturally stunning as they do. I’ve always thought it was silly to cover up tiny imperfections, to change the features that made Rocky who he was. But it was just another choice he made without consulting me.
“Are you hungry? I’m making everyone’s favorite: blueberry pancakes.” He uses the spatula in his hand to flip a pancake, then add it to the growing pile beside the stove.
“Since when do you know how to make breakfast? Or, for that matter, eat breakfast? I thought you and Rayna were all about intermittent fasting.”
Rocky’s smile fades a decimal. “I don’t always do everything Rayna says.”
My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. This is new. Since when have he and Rayna been anything but a dynamic duo? A two-headed pop-culture nightmare? At least, that’s how the press makes it seem. Despite my best efforts, the public’s insatiable appetite for R&R has made it impossible to avoid the barrage of photos. Arms wrapped around each other as they order artisanal coffee in Silver Lake. Sharing a smooch in front of a gas station pump off the Pacific Coast Highway. The pictures are always accompanied by captions like “Back Together and Hotter Than Ever!” or “Feeling Nostalgic? R&R’s Relationship, Then and Now.” Based on the sheer volume of images, you’d think they were the only two people in LA. And magically, the paparazzi always know exactly where to find them.
Though if there’s one thing I know about my ex-husband, it’s that the paparazzi never find him by accident.
Before I can question him further, there’s a thundering of footsteps on the staircase, and my pajama-clad children are stumbling into the kitchen.
“Daddy!” Isla shrieks. “I was afraid you’d already left.”
If only.
Rocky looks at me and the sentiment must be written all over my face, because he quickly says, “I figured I’d stay for breakfast. But after that, I’ll be heading back to my hotel for a little while. Maybe we all can have dinner tonight?”
Isla nods eagerly as she slides into a kitchen chair. Levi slides into the seat closest to me. He’s keeping quiet, his emotions less readable. But he’s sticking close to my side, the way he always does when he’s feeling uncertain.
Rocky brings the pancakes to the table, and I reluctantly concede that they do smell delicious. Isla stacks a couple onto her plate, beaming as she peers around the table at each of us. Levi’s nose wrinkles. He glances up at me, his eyes transmitting a silent plea for help. His father doesn’t seem to remember that he only likeschocolate-chip pancakes. I give him a wink, then head to the freezer to heat up a pack for him.
“Isn’t this so nice?” Isla says. “Being together as a family?” The words hit me like a gut punch. I know what she’s doing and it’s not like I blame her. I never thought I’d be a divorcée, raising children in a joint custody arrangement. Not after my own parents’ divorce.
As a kid, I promised myself that I wouldn’t make their mistakes, that I would do whatever it took to keep my own family together, so that my kids would never have to feel the way I did. But as much as I dragged my feet, I don’t regret divorcing Rocky. I just hate feeling like I am the one denying my kids a happy, cohesive family.
