The Friends We Keep

Instead she patted Makayla’s hand. “Want to try sleeping now? You have a big day of camp in the morning.”


“Yeah. I feel a lot better.” The teen gave her a quick hug, then headed upstairs.

Gabby poured the milk down the drain and washed the pot before slowly going to the master bedroom. Andrew was already asleep, as was Boomer. The combination of light snoring and steady breathing made her wish she and Andrew weren’t fighting. That they could be the team he always talked about. Only what he asked for wasn’t possible.

Not a restful topic, she told herself as she got into bed. She had to let it go or she wouldn’t sleep at all. And the morning was going to come really early.

Which it did, she thought six hours later when the alarm went off. She was pretty sure she’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep. The day was going to be tough.

She got out of bed without saying anything to Andrew and headed for the bathroom. After pulling on her robe, she walked to the door so she could go to the kitchen and feed the animals. Andrew stopped her.

For a second, she hoped he was going to say something kind. Something that offered an olive branch, or at least a hint they were on the same side. Instead, he asked, “Do you mind picking up Makayla from camp today? I have a meeting and can’t get there in time.”

The unfairness of the question cut through her. He got to demand she give up her life and that was fine, but she referred to Makayla as his daughter once and he now he was going to act like this?

“Don’t be a jerk,” she snapped. “It’s not necessary.”

His brows rose, as if he were confused.

“Oh, please. I don’t have time for this,” she told him. “It’s been eight years, Andrew. When have I not picked up Makayla? When have I not fed her, clothed her, taken her to the doctor, to sporting events, to school and to friends, bought her birthday and Christmas presents? When have I not taken care of her? I’ve always been there for her and you know it.”

She tightened the belt of her robe. “All I’ve asked in return is that she have chores. That she be required to contribute to the household, but you said no, she does nothing around here. I’m the one who said no boys in her bedroom and you explained to me that I was wrong. You knew your little girl so much better. So while you get to claim the biological connection, while you get to make all the rules because she’s your daughter, I’m supposed to just go along with things. And because I once, and you know it was once, said your daughter, as in not mine, I’m the bad guy?”

She sucked in a breath. “No. I don’t accept that. You’re wrong on this. Wrong in so many ways, I can’t count them. I want a life. That’s not wrong or mean or evil. It’s real. I want a job. I want to be able to make choices about my life. I don’t want to stay home and raise her baby. I don’t. I notice you’re not expecting your ex-wife to participate in this at all. Just me. I have no idea how this is going to play out, but you know what? I’m sick of it. You’re not going to dictate this one. If we are, as you claim, a team, then we get an equal vote and I vote no. I won’t do it and I won’t let you make me the bad guy.”

With that, she walked out, Boomer and Jasmine close on her heels.

She made it to the kitchen before the shaking started. Until that very second, she’d never walked out in the middle of an argument. She’d never once not let him have the last word. She was sure she’d violated thirty-eight ways to fight fairly and she was confident a professional marriage counselor would tell her she was going about it all wrong, but she didn’t care. Not one bit.

*

Hayley wandered through the house. The windows were all open, as was the back door. It was close to six in the evening and the breeze would pick up any second. Cool air would blow in from across the ocean, bringing the temperature inside down to a pleasant seventy-five degrees.

The days were getting longer—not in terms of daylight. That was actually getting less. No, what she noticed was how slowly time passed.

Physically she was feeling better. There was no escaping the body’s ability to heal. As much as she wanted her outsides to reflect what was in the heart—things didn’t work that way. She was trapped with cells that regenerated and a system that kept her moving forward. Which meant she had more energy, was more restless and just sitting and staring was no longer enough. She had to be doing something.

She glanced at her phone to see if Nicole or Gabby had texted recently. Her friends were in touch with her several times a day. But there was no new message. Because they had lives, she told herself. Something she was going to have to find for herself, and soon.