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“Hey,” Mack says as he comes into the room. “Um, Betty Paige invited me to go skiing in Vermont after Christmas. Do you think I can go? Noah’s going to be there, and I think it’ll be fun.”
“Did you talk to your mom?”
Mack’s face drops and I do everything I can to not roll my eyes.
“I’ll take care of it. I don’t mind as long as it’s cool with Liam and Josie. I’ll call them later.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mack leaves and I wait for the door to close before I let out a groan as I grip the side of my desk. I honestly don’t know what to do. Not with Aubrey, the kids, or my marriage. Obviously, the answer is to get a divorce, but that’s Aubrey’s solution. Not mine.
Knowing Aubrey’s in the bedroom, I head into the kitchen and start dinner. I suppose when she stopped doing things like making the kids’ food, it should’ve been a sign something was up with her. But nope, I covered for her because I love her and I’m her husband. That’s what husbands should do.
“Amelie, set the table please,” I say as I fill a pot with water and set it on the stove. The pantry is stocked but unorganized, another pet peeve. I can’t help that I like things neat and orderly. It’s in my nature as a doctor. With a box of noodles and a jar of pasta sauce in my hands, I’m back at the stove.
“I don’t want to,” Amelie says.
“I didn’t ask you what you wanted. I told you to set the table.”
“No, why can’t Mack do it?”
This mini-Aubrey version is going to send me to an early grave. The pre-teen hormones are no joke and if there was medication for it, I’d have that child on them so damn fast.
“Because I told you to do it. I don’t want to say it again, Amelie. Set the table.”
“Oh my God, you’re so mean. Everything is so unfair. Mack never has to do anything.”
Mack opens his mouth, but I send him a warning glare. The last thing I want is for this battle to continue. In five minutes, she’ll be over it and things will calm down until the next fight starts.
I pull some ground chicken from the refrigerator and toss it into a frying pan and end up finding a box of Texas toast in the freezer. It’s not much of a dinner, especially with Mack growing like a weed, but it’s something.
Twenty minutes later, Aubrey emerges from the bedroom and sits down. I want to ask why she’s even bothering, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to fight in front of the kids. Our issues are ours. Not theirs.
However, halfway through dinner, everything changes. Aubrey sits up and gets the kids’ attention. She has mine, too, because suddenly, I’m on edge.
“Your dad and I wanted to talk to you tonight.”
Right off, I know this isn’t going to be good. We haven’t discussed anything about the kids, other than I’m not allowing them to go with her. “Aubrey—” I warn. She doesn’t look at me, but back and forth between our children. My stomach rolls. “Don’t do what I think you’re about to do.”
“It needs to be done, Nick.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not now.” Not days before fucking Christmas.
“Your dad and I have decided to get a divorce.”
Silence.
And confusion.
Mack looks from his mom to me. “What?”
“Sorry, bud,” I tell him as I reach for his hand. “This isn’t how I wanted you and your sister to find out and it’s definitely not the right time.”
Amelie starts sobbing and goes to her mom for a hug. I sigh heavily, wishing none of this was happening.
“It’ll be okay,” Aubrey says to Amelie and then reaches for Mack’s hand. “You guys are going to love Johannesburg.”
As if in slow motion, realization washes over Mack. He takes his hand away from his mother’s grip and stands. “I’m not moving,” he says. “You can’t make me.”
