Page 97 of The Art Of Starting Over

“No, it’s really not.”

“I didn’t want to do this, but you’re leaving me no choice. You and Maren are coming back to Chicago with me. We’ll be a family again, go to counseling. We’ll work on our marriage.”

“The hell we will,” she said. “To all of it. I’m not leaving Oyster Bay, and neither is Maren. We’re happy here. She’s thriving—”

“Is she?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “She tells me otherwise.”

Dev scoffed. “No, Chad. It’s because you tell her otherwise. You twist and turn words to suit your narrative. Not mine. Not hers. Maren is happy.” She stressed the word “happy,” hoping he would finally understand. “She loves it here and talks about the future. She’s an integral part of a baseball team, and her grades are stellar. Maren matters here.

“The only time she talks about going back to Chicago is when you call. That’s it. She never mentions it because it’s not what she wants. Sure, she’ll tell you this now because she’s nine and wants her parents to be together. It’s what every kid her age wants.

“But do you honestly think I’d take her back there so people can point fingers at her? Everyone knows what you did, Chad. It’s not a secret. It’s not something we can sweep under the rug. Do you really want her going to school with Rita? And having their classmates point fingers at them?”

Devorah got up and paced. She finally went into the kitchen, looked out the window, and saw her daughter on the tire swing Crow had put up for Maren just days ago.

Her father. His voice rang out in her head:Stand up for yourself, Devorah. She fought back a wave of tears. Crow hadn’t been gone long, and she missed him fiercely. There was no way she was going to let him down now. She took a centering breath and pushed away the tears. Chad would think they were for him. He hadn’t earned any more of her tears, and she’d be damned if she was going to let him see her cry.

After drinking a glass of water, she went back into the other room with her head held high.

“Sign the papers, Chad.”

“Devorah.”

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving here, and neither is Maren. I don’t care if I’ve been here three minutes, three months, or three years. This is our home, and this is where we’re staying.”

“So that’s it, huh? I just leave my family behind?”

Dev pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily and then looked at her ex. “You left us behind the minute you thought about sleeping with Ester. The second the thought entered your mind, you should’ve reminded yourself of your vows. But you didn’t. We didn’t matter then, and we don’t matter now.”

“That’s not true.”

Devorah had had enough. She went to her purse and pulled out her phone, ignoring the slew of text messages and missed calls. She opened the video app, went to Ester’s username, and pressed the first video there, posted two days ago. Dev pressed play, then turned the phone around to show Chad. Someone had sent it to her the other day. That someone, she was sure of, was Ester.

The video showed Chad walking to his car with his overnight bag, and Ester talking:

“Babe, where are you going?”

“To a funeral.”

“Whose?”

Chad shook his head as he stared at Devorah. “Turn it off.”

“No, I want you to watch and tell me why in the hell you think I should go back there and subject myself to this. Subject our daughter to this?”

“My former pain-in-the-ass father-in-law.”Chad’s voice rang out.

“Sounds like a waste of time.”

“Thank God I can’t see you kissing her. The sound effects are enough,” Dev said as she continued to hold her phone out and glare at Chad.

“Hurry back. My kitty will miss you.”

The video went blank and restarted.

“Two days ago, Chad. And here you sit, telling me how you made a mistake and want to be a family.”

“Devorah . . .”

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