Page 116 of Recipe for Rivals

Did he need to be reminded he’d left first? Besides, Alice had never stopped talking to him. He was lumping the kids together, only seeing the negative and magnifying it in his mind.

“The way I see it,” he continued, “there are two options. You come home and bring the kids with you, or they come home with me and you can stay here. I’ll put them back in school, cover the whole tuition. We can split custody down the middle. It’ll be like they never left.”

Except they did leave. Our marriagediddissolve and fracture and split beyond repair. Carter was asking for parts of his oldlife back, but he didn’t want his old life, not really. He still didn’t want me. The lack of control had caught up to him, and he saw us moving on with our lives and being okay, and it threatened his sense of self-worth. I could see it so clearly now, how everything revolved around him.

It was why he was here, late on a Saturday night, in a dramatic move to regain control after I’d stopped answering his calls for the last two days. He must have been out of his mind with frustration.

Standing there and being handed the option to return to my old life—sans husband—made me realize with startling clarity how much I didn’t want that. It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to step backward. I just wanted to stay here.

“No one is leaving Texas,” I said coolly. I didn’t miss the sharp intake of hope from Dusty. “But you’re welcome to come visit the kids tomorrow. They would love to see you.”

Carter narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t prefer to keep them here. I know you. You miss the city and your friends and your family.”

That was true.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t talked to Blair every day, wishing you were close enough to go to her place for lunch,” he pressed.

Noteveryday. But, yeah, he was right about that, too.

Carter seemed to sense this, because he kept going. “They have nothing here. No Target, no Met museum, no Carmines or Barney Greengrass.”

Yes, I missed those things. Yes, I talked to Blair most days, and when my parents returned home, my homesickness would probably mount in a cataclysmic wave. But Carter was so wrong on a more important fundamental level. Arcadia Creek didn’t havenothing. It had the same sense of community I’d grown up with on our Brooklyn block. It had stability and consistency and traditions. It had friendship and diner regulars and Gigi and thatbone-deep feeling of home when I was standing on a back porch looking at a sunset.

It had Dusty.

I cleared my throat, searching for the patience to remain calm and not shout all of that back at him. “There’s a cute inn just down the street. It’s right up a little hill, and they might have a vacancy. If you want to stay there, we can meet up in the morning—” I stopped myself before inviting him over for breakfast. He didn’t need to step foot in my new home. It was safe and mine, and I didn’t want him tainting that. “We can grab coffee?—”

“Where are my kids?”

“With Gigi,” I said bluntly. “They’re having a sleepover, and we aren’t going to ruin it.”

His jaw ticked. “I deserve?—”

“No,” I said firmly. “We will not talk about whatwedeserve, or I will start talking about how much more child support I deserve.” I hadn’t known how he had done it, but he must have hidden funds somewhere in order to get my payments so low, and it wasn’t until I’d come out of the post-divorce fog that I realized it. I knew Carter’s income. I’d been so stupid before now.

“You wouldn’t,” he said quietly.

I turned, pointing up at my apartment. “We’re good here. The kids have a great room, and we’re warm and well fed. You haven’t ruined anyone’s life. But your kids deserve a lot more than you’ve given them. Alice should be able to do gymnastics and Ben should be able to join a flag football team without me needing to dip into my savings. If you want to storm in making demands, then I will counter them.”

Carter’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his anger manifesting in the clenching of his jaw and heavy breathing. “I don’t like this.”

He wouldn’t though, would he? It wasn’t going the way he’dplanned. I wanted to ask about Kristen, to find out if she was home waiting for him, if she knew where he was right now. But his life had moved on, and until it became relevant for me to know—like my kids going to visit him in the summer—then I wouldn’t ask. Our lives were separate, and it hit me like a wave of relief that he could move on and so could I.

Feeling Dusty’s presence beside me, I realized I already had.

It was time to delete that screenshot I’d taken of their moving day. Later, when I was alone. “I’ll call you in the morning and we can walk over to Gigi’s together.”

Carter’s gaze flicked to Dusty before falling back on me again. “You’ve changed.”

I disagreed. He was just seeing me differently now that I wasn’t diminishing my thoughts and shaping myself to fit him better. “Good night, Carter.”

He shook his head softly before walking down the road and climbing into a silver sedan.

“Do you want me to call Jack and see if he has vacancies?” Dusty asked softly, once Carter had closed his door.

“No.” I drew in a shaky breath and let it out. “I have a feeling he won’t be staying tonight.”

Dusty turned to face me sharply. “You think he’d leave? He hasn’t even seen the kids yet.”

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