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Blake’s throat went dry as she threw the very words he said about Mr. Garwood back at him.
He nodded in confirmation. What more could he say?
“Just because someone means well,” Mel said, her voice soft, “doesn’t make them right.” And with that, she left.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MEL
Mel waited until the kids were asleep to call her parents. Not that she planned on recounting her afternoon for them, but still, she needed the kind of comfort only they could provide. If it had been a weekday, she might just spill to the girls and call it a day. But it was only Saturday night, and now that her parents no longer lived close by, she couldn’t exactly call an emergency meeting and haul Marti and Caroline to the freebie closet just so she could purge.
She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter, then dropped herself down onto the couch, wishing she had a bottle of wine to open.
She exhaled and let her head fall back into the soft cushions. No matter how much she tried, the emotion swelling in her chest like a seed wouldn’t go away. Did Blake really think she was that bad off that she needed to attend a charity event? Or maybe he didn’t think those things, and it really had been all Jen’s personal assumptions. And what did it say about her pride that she was so offended that he had? There was no shame in needing help. But Mel didn’t. She was fine. Just fine.
Either way, it hurt in a way Mel wished it didn’t. It stung in a way it shouldn’t. Maybe because Blake, too, came from nothing. She didn’t know the details of his upbringing, but as a foster child, there was no way he had much growing up.
She shook her head and straightened. It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t care what he thought. Just like she shouldn’t be ashamed of their apartment, but all those old sticky feelings of inadequacy crept back to her like they’d never left. She wasn’t good enough for Craig to stick around. What if, no matter how hard she worked, it’d never be enough? What if she never got out of this apartment? With three teenagers, she’d drown.
Unless . . .
Right now, she was stuck in a rat wheel. Her job was decent, but three kids and New York rent, plus living expenses, left little room for savings at the end of the month. Yet moving meant the chance of lower cost of living, but she might struggle to find a job or make even less than she is now. After all, writing wasn’t always the most prolific of careers.
But still, maybe moving away from New York altogether was her best option.
Mel bit her lip.
When her parents announced her father’s retirement and subsequent relocation, they mentioned her relocating with them. At the time, Mel wouldn’t think of it. But maybe Florida was her best option. Promotion or not, staying afloat was manageable, but would she ever really have all the things she dreamed of for the kids? A house with a yard and bedrooms for each of them, a dog, a better school, a savings account for college, summer vacations, no matter how small. If Craig hadn’t left her with so much debt, maybe . . . But she was still paying down those credit card bills on top of everything.
If she moved near her parents, she’d have the advantage of interviewing before she made the plunge because she could stay with him. She’d only need to pay traveling expenses. Next year, the triplets would be in Kindergarten, but she’d have the help of her parents if she needed it. It would be easier to start fresh. To wipe the slate clean.
She had said no before, claiming she loved her job and that her friends were there—in New York—and while that was all true, it wasn’t the only reason. If she dug deep enough, to the darkest parts of herself, she’d acknowledge that a small part of her didn’t want to leave because she was afraid Craig would never find her if he came looking. That the part of her she submerged in her subconscious still held out for the day he came back. In some of Mel’s wildest fantasies, he got kidnapped or hit by a car and lost his memory—he hadn’t just chosen to leave; he had no choice. But those were nothing more than silly dreams. After all, he had returned to retrieve his stuff, hadn’t he? In his usual cowardly fashion, he did it while she was at work. A month later, she received divorce papers in the mail, along with one of the few support checks she’d ever receive. He must’ve thought the money would soften the blow. He was wrong.
She inhaled and glanced down at her phone. Mel loved her job, but maybe it was time for a change.
She picked up her phone and dialed her mother because her father never had his on or couldn’t find it. After a minute, her mother answered, and the FaceTime image appeared on the screen. Only it wasn’t her mother’s face, but her neck, which was par for the course.
“Oh, Jer, it’s Mel,” her mother yelled as the camera whirled. “She’s on that face thing.”
“It’s FaceTime, Mom,” Mel said, speaking louder than normal because they could never hear her.
Finally, her mother righted the phone, but like always, she focused at the bottom corner of the phone, at her own picture to make sure she was doing it right, instead of directly at Mel.
Mel’s spirits instantly lifted. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” Her mother blinked, fluffing her hair as she looked at her image. “Your dad’s coming.” As soon as the words left her mouth, he appeared from behind her and scooted a chair next to her mother and joined her half on the screen. “Oh, here she is,” she said.
Her father smiled, a thick mustache a new addition.
“Dad, what’s up with the stache?” Mel asked, raising a brow.
“Do you like it? I think it makes me look kind of sophisticated.” He stroked the end of his mustache while Mel stifled a laugh.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “It looks like a caterpillar, and he’ll have an awful tan line when he goes to shave.”
At her father’s indignant glare, Mel laughed. “It’s nice. Very debonair.”
“So, how’s everything going? How are my peanuts?” her mother asked.
