Page 13 of Finding the Pieces

“Nothing is decided. We were invited, and I asked our family if they were free to watch Luca to see what our options are. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.” I scoff, pulling back and wiping my cheeks dry. “So I can be the bitch who misses the game when everyone else is going? So I can be the big buzzkill? When you tell your parents I want to cancel, they’ll question why and you’ll tell them it’s because I can’t handle leaving Luca? Why do I always have to be the one to hold all the worry? I can’t carry it alone.”

Anger feels good. Anger feels better than falling apart.

Shitty thing about it is that Dom is the one it always seems to be directed at, and a guy can only take so much. He doesn’t deserve any of it, but I can’t seem to stop.

I watch him bristle, and he looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me.

“Jesus, Ellie, how did we get here? We were having a great night,” Dom asks, shoving his hand through his hair, ruffling the longer sections so they lay unevenly. Good, now we can both look frazzled.

Why does the rest of the world get to keep spinning while I’m fucking drowning?

Does he not see me? Does nobody see me?

“We got here because you forgot that I can’t justgoanddo thingslike this. You just keep pushing, and pushing. One day, I’m going to fucking snap. You want tofixme. You want me to be the person I was before all of this, but I’mnever going to be that person again, Dom,” I yell, breaking my own rule against arguing in front of Luca.

I’m not in control. I need to get out of here.

“Ellie, I’m not trying tofixyou. I’m just trying tohelpyou. I’m trying toloveyou. You’re notfucking broken,” Dom snaps at me, throwing a teether into the toy bin with more force than necessary, finally letting his frustration breach the surface. A rare occurrence for Dom.

“Yes,” I whisper, silent tears falling. “I am.”

His face falls, heartbroken and so…so lost. I can’t look at him for one more second knowing I’m the cause of that pain.

Things may not be easy between me and Dom right now, not like they used to be, but this is where I draw the line. We don’t speak to each other like this in front of Luca.

This whole conversation started out so easy. How did it devolve intothis?

I storm out of the room before I say more that I’ll regret. Guilt sinks like a brick in my stomach. Tears burn my eyes before they fall. I’ve failed as a mom and a wife…again.

Chapter six

Ellie

Luca’s face ignites with joy as Dom pushes him in the swing. I listen to my favorite sound, his giggles, from my seat on a nearby wooden bench. The small playground near our home is nearly empty this early in the morning.

The leaves are beginning to change, some already starting to drift silently to the frosted grass. A chill lingers in the September morning air, but it’ll be warm enough for T-shirts again in a few hours. We’re in that confusing part of Ohio’s autumn where you need to dress for early winter in the morning and late summer in the afternoon.

I snuggle my chin further into my scarf and cling to my travel mug, desperately willing the heat to warm my fingers. Damn that double insulation.

“Mind if I sit here?” a woman appearing to be in her early thirties asks, gesturing to the seat next to me.

“Of course, it’s all yours,” I say, scooting over to give her more room.

She plops her purse down next to my diaper bag.

“Stay where I can see you, Rose!” she calls out to the young girl hastily climbing up the rock wall.

“Okay, Mom!” Rose yells as she scrambles to the top.

I smile to myself, imagining the day when Luca is old enough to play independently without either me or Dom helicoptering over him. I can’t picture it. I see five, six, seven-year-old kids with their parents. Little personalities blossoming, asking hilariously difficult—and valid—questions, becoming tiny versions of the adults they’ll one day become. But all I can see is Luca at the stage he’s in. So perfect.

“Wave to Momma,” Dom says from the swings. I wave at my boys, and my heart swells with gratitude.

I’m not perfect. Not by a fucking mile. But those two smiles…I want to be worthy of those. I wake up every morning striving for that.

“So sweet,” my new neighbor says, before taking a drink from her own travel mug. “How old?”

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