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“Why doesn’t anybody love us enough to stay?” Her voice is soft as it breaks. “Why didn’t Liam love us enough to stay?”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer to me. Tears roll down her cheeks as she nestles into my side, her arms wrapping around my waist.
“It’s not that he didn’t love us, honey. Liam loves us as much as your dad loves you. He really does. I asked him to let us go.”
Deja goes stiff in my arms, but she doesn’t pull away. “Why would you do that? You looked so happy with him.”
“I was happy with him,” I say, speaking around the lump forming in my throat. “You would not believe how happy I am with him, but his mother is not a kind woman. She’s not the kind of person that I want around you.”
“What did his mom say? When you both came back from the washroom, you didn’t look like you were okay.”
“She said some racist things I’m not going to repeat. It’s not the first time she’s insulted me and treated me poorly, but Liam had promised me it wouldn’t happen that night. He said she would behave, but she didn’t. I told him I wasn’t going to have you around anybody like that.”
Deja’s chest heaves, the words setting heavily on her. She leans her head on my shoulder, her breathing unsteady as I run a hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.
“He let us go because he loves us enough not to ask us to stay,” I say. “He loves us enough to know that being near certain people in his life is toxic for us. We don’t need their acceptance, and we don’t want it. He understands that.”
“He could have fought for us.” Deja reaches down to pull the blanket up around her. “He could have told her to go to hell, and he could have fought for us.”
“He might have, honey, but I wasn’t going to keep you there to find out. We don’t deserve that, and we certainly don’t have to put up with it.”
Though I miss him and listen to the voicemails he leaves on repeat at night, I know I did what was best. I can’t ask him to give up his own flesh and blood for us, but I wouldn’t stay and listen to her racist bullshit either. I respect myself and my daughter more than that.
Liam had done what was best for us; he had let us go.
“Dad’s wedding is tomorrow,” Deja says, shuffling around beneath the blankets until she is comfortable. “Why did he plan a wedding so fast?”
“Britney wanted a wedding before the baby came, before she looked super pregnant,” I say, not bothering to hide the amusement in my voice.
“I want Liam to go with us. Do you think he will?”
“I don’t think so, honey. But we don’t need him there. You and I are going to have a great time, and we can spend the night dancing.”
Deja nods, her eyes closing. “Mom, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
****
When we wake up in the morning, Deja is quiet and withdrawn as she sits at the table eating her cereal. She’s normally connected to her phone but instead, she’s staring at the back of the cereal box and not saying a word.
“Deja, honey, you don’t have to go today if you don’t want to.” I standing behind her and rub her shoulders. “Your dad will understand if it’s too hard for you.”
“No, he won’t,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head. “He’ll be mad at me if I don’t go, and then I’ll never get to see him. He’ll be too busy with Britney and the new baby to spend time with me. At least if I go to the wedding, he won’t be mad.”
I pull her into a hug, kissing her cheek even as my heart breaks for her. “I admire you so much, honey. You are the strongest young woman I know.”
She sniffles, wiping away a stray tear that rolls down her cheek. “I’m going to go get ready.”
“Okay, honey. I’m going to have a cup of coffee. Then I’ll get dressed and we can go.”
After we are dressed, I lead the way to the car, holding her hand and hoping it will give me the strength I need to support her and get through the day. Not once did it ever cross my mind that I would be attending the wedding of my cheating ex-husband as he marries another woman—the woman he cheated with no less. It isn’t the kind of thing you consider when you get married to the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.
When we walk into the chapel, we are led to Jake’s side and put in the front row. Deja scuffs the toes of her shoes against a mark on the floor. She grips the edge of the pew hard, looking sick as she glares at nothing.
“Deja, there’s still time to leave if you don’t want to be here.”
“I need to be here,” she says. She takes a deep breath and looks up at me. “I have to be here.”
