And it didn’t.
The unhappiness was pale and seldom seen, like a spider’s web in the deep woods. You saw it only when you were looking for it or stumbled off the path. The new and tender closeness of their trio sometimes underscored the solitary edge of her life. A woman who’d fallen in love as often as she had didn’t expect to be approaching forty alone. Even though she was happy for Julia, sometimes Ellie watched her sister’s growing bond with Alice, and it made her heart ache. Whether Julia knew it or not—or admitted it or not—she was becoming Alice’s mother. They would leave this house someday, find their own home, and Ellie would be alone, like before. Only it would be different now because she’d been part of a family again. She didn’t want to go back to her previous life, where work and friends and dreams of falling in love made up the bulk of her life. She didn’t know if it would be enough anymore. Now that she’d lived in a house where a child played games and followed you around and kissed you good-night, would she be okay again on her own?
“You don’t look so good,” Cal said from across the room.
“Yeah? Well, you’re ugly.”
Cal laughed. Taking off his headset, he put down his pencil and walked out of their office. A few moments later he returned with two cups of coffee. “Maybe you need some caffeine.” He handed her the cup.
She looked up at him, wondering why she couldn’t find men like him attractive—men who kept their promises and raised their children and stayed in love. Oh, no. She had to fall head over heels for guys with “issues.” Guys who grew their hair too long and had trouble keeping a job and confused “I do” with “I did” pretty damned fast.
“What I need is a new life.”
He pulled a chair from his desk and set it by hers. “We’re getting to that age.”
“You used to tell me I was crazy when I said things like that.”
He leaned back in the chair and put his feet on her desk. She couldn’t help noticing that the white soles of his tennis shoes were covered with purple ink. Someone had written his youngest daughter’s name on the rubber, surrounded by pink hearts and stars.
It made her heart lurch, that little sight. “It looks like someone wanted to decorate Daddy’s shoes.”
“Sarah thought my shoes were dorky. I never should have given her a set of markers.”
“You’re lucky to have those girls, Cal.” She sighed. “I always thought I’d be the one with three daughters. Both times I got married, I went right off the pill and started praying.” She tried to smile. “I guess I have divorce lawyers instead of babies.”
“You’re thirty-nine, Ellie. Not fifty-nine. The game isn’t over.”
“It just feels that way, huh?”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Ellie. Don’t you ever get tired of telling the same story?”
She sat upright. He sounded angry with her. It didn’t make sense. She’d always been able to count on Cal. “What do you mean?”
“We’re pushing forty, but you still act like you’re the homecoming queen, waiting to be swept off her feet by the football captain. It’s not like that. Love rips the shit out of you and puts you back together like a broken toy, with all kinds of cracks and jagged edges. It’s not about the falling in love. It’s about the landing, the staying where you said you’d be and working to keep the love strong. You never did get that.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Cal. You’ve got a wife and kids who love you. Lisa—”
“Left me.”
“What?”
“In August,” he said quietly. “We tried the old being separated in the same house—for the girls. But they were too smart for that. Amanda, especially. She’s like Julia was at that age. She sees everything and isn’t afraid to ask hard questions. Lisa moved out of our bedroom before Valentine’s Day. Just before school started, she left for good.”
“And the girls?” Ellie could hardly ask the question.
“They’re with me. Lisa works too much. Every now and again she gets lonely and remembers that she’s a mom and she calls or comes by. She’s in love now. We haven’t heard from her in weeks. Except for the divorce papers. She wants me to sell the house and split the proceeds.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never told me this. We work together every day. Every day.”
He looked at her oddly. “When was the last time you asked about my life, El?”
She felt stung by that remark. “I always ask how you’re doing.”
“And you give me five seconds to answer before you launch into something more interesting. Usually about your own life.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not judging you, Ellie. Simply telling the truth.”