Page 133 of All Too Well
“Work stuff?”
“Or you stuff.”
“Me stuff?” I ask.
“Yes, because he wants me back at work. He doesn’t think I need to be here anymore.”
“I see.” The relief I felt dissipates as though someone just dumped water on smoldering embers. “So you’re leaving tonight?”
“Tomorrow morning, I was planning. I wanted to spend time with you and Rose and ... talk.”
That ache now is a knifing sensation.
“Talk?”
It seems all I’m capable of doing is asking more questions.
“Yes, talk. I think we both have a lot to discuss, don’t you?”
Rose runs back in, wearing a dress and a smile so wide it breaks my damn heart. She’s going to be devastated when Ainsley leaves. The two of them have had their nightly story time, and Ainsley gets up with her in the mornings. They’ve become friends, and this is exactly the kind of shit I wanted to avoid.
“Rose, what do you think about staying in instead?”
Ainsley reaches her hand out. “No, please. I want to do our fancy dinner. You got these beautiful flowers, and Rose is already in her very pretty dress. I just need to change. Do I have enough time before we have to go?”
Rose looks to me and then to Ainsley, and nods. “I think so.”
Ainsley’s brown eyes meet mine. “Lach?”
Even though I want to rail at the world for bringing me Ainsley only to take her again, I force a smile because I need to protect my daughter. “Yes, of course.”
She kisses Rose’s cheek and then heads into her room. I don’t even remember walking away from her door, but I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, the sheets still a mess from where we slept, and on her side table the lotion that she has to put on before bed. All of it there. All of it will be gone.
Fuck.
I sink onto the edge, my head in my hands. How did I let this happen? How did I let myself get so deep with this woman? I knew the ending. I saw the interception before the ball was even thrown.
However, I didn’t pivot. No, I stayed on course, knowing that I would be the one to tear myself apart, because it’s what I always do.
I did it with my mother.
I did it for Rose’s mother.
I’ll do it again for Ainsley.
Dinner is like being put through a twelve-hour-long play in another language. You sit there, hearing the things around you but comprehending none of it. You just ... endure.
Ainsley is her normal, perky self. She laughs, talks to Rose, they have their little inside jokes, and I sit here watching it all while completely numb.
Our meal is at no charge, thanks to some Good Samaritan who probably saw the story about the fire. We climb into my truck and make it back to the house.
Rose falls asleep in the back seat, and Ainsley reaches out, resting her hand on my forearm. “Are you going to talk to me at all?”
“We talked.”
She sighs through her nose. “If that’s what you want to call it. I know I blindsided you, and I’m so sorry, Lach. I didn’t know. I tried to fight my boss, to convince him I needed to stay here, but he’s adamant I return to the office.”
“I understand it. I’m not mad or anything. I just hate it, and I know she’s going to hate it more. Rose loves you. She’s going to be crushed when we tell her.”
