Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“You need to go,” I say, voice firm now.
Nora’s eyes flick to the girls, and her expression softens for a moment, with recognition, regret, maybe shame, but it’s gone too fast. She reaches toward the booth.
“I want to see my girls.”
“Not like this,” I repeat, stepping in front of her fully, blocking her from their view. “You want to be their mom; you get yourself together first.”
“I am their mom!” she snaps, voice rising. A few diners glance our way. Someone drops a fork. The back of my neck heats as I realize how bad this looks.
“You’re scaring them,” I say quietly, hoping it’ll cut through.
Her gaze flicks past me again, and this time, she sees what I mean. Junie, trembling and halfway under the table. Eli, silent and pale, holding onto Grace like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
Something in Nora cracks.
“Fuck you,” she hisses, turning fast and storming out the way she came, louder than she entered, every eye in the place on her and then us.
The door swings to close behind her, but I’m striding in her wake, already close enough to grab it before it shuts.
I step outside into the thick heat of late afternoon. The door swings shut behind me with a soft thud. Nora’s halfway down the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and I call out for her, instinct driving every frantic action. What am I even doing? This isn’t going to make a damn difference.
“Nora,” I call out again, hopeful regardless. Not for me, but for the kids.
She stops, spins. Her boots skid against the concrete.
“They’re my kids,” she snaps, eyes wild and rimmed red. “You can’t keep them from me.”
I duck my head, staring at the sidewalk, inhaling deep, and praying for patience. “You left,” I say. “You left, and we had no idea where you went. Where have you been, Nora?”
She shakes her head. “I’m their momma, Dylan.”
I take a deep breath, anger and sorrow fighting a war in my chest as memories of Nora from the past, fight against the version in front of me. I could yell at her for breaking all our hearts. For leaving us without a backward glance. For letting everything I helped her fight before we were married come creeping back in until it won. But what would be the point? People can’t fix what’s broken in others. They have to want to help themselves, and Nora doesn’t.
“The kids need you sober. Stable. Present, Nora.”
“Who is she?” she spits, stepping toward me again and ignoring everything I’m saying. “The one in there playing house in my seat? You let her tuck them in now?”
“She’s showing them what kindness looks like,” I say. “That’s all.”
Her jaw tightens. “You think I don’t miss them? You think I wanted this?”
“No,” I say honestly. “I think you’re hurting. But so are they. And they need a mom who doesn’t show up like this.”
Her face twists, but I can’t recognize the emotions behind it. She stumbles a step back and steadies herself on the building. Then she laughs in a hollow, broken way that echoes and draws the eyes of the people walking past.
Without another word, she storms off down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the weight of her own choices.
I don’t follow. I’m frozen with my hands fisted at my sides, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest and the sharp crack of guilt I know I’ll always carry. I believed I could be enough to make her better, and it’s an arrogance I’ll always feel ashamed of.
When I step back into the diner, it feels like walking into another world, the one I’ve been trying to build from the rubble of the past. Grace is still in the booth, tucked against the window, but now both girls are in her lap. Junie’s got her face buried in Grace’s neck. Eli is sitting stiffly, blinking hard, trying to hold back tears. Her jaw is tight, the same as mine, and her small hands are still clutching the table edge.
Grace’s eyes meet mine, warm and sorry for everything that’s happening to our family. I crouch beside the booth, laying a gentle hand on Eli’s back, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Hey,” I say softly, “it’s okay. Mom had a rough day.”
Eli looks at me, her big brown eyes searching mine for something I don’t know how to give. “Why is mommy always mad now?”
The question guts me.
I draw both girls into my arms, Grace letting them go without hesitation. My cheek rests against Junie’s hair, and my hand smooths down Eli’s back as I kiss her cheek. They smell like their momma, and it breaks my heart for them to be separated from the woman who grew them inside her, giving me the most important gift of my life.