Page 7 of What Broke First
“You are their father, Matt. But don’t mistake that for being present. You think just showing up now earns you a seat at the table? You left for someone untouched by time, or kids, or you. Just glossed lips and no stretch marks.”
She took a breath and steadied herself.
“You shattered something sacred and then acted surprised when it didn’t glue back together overnight. You didn’t trip and fall into betrayal. You walked in, made yourself comfortable, and forgot to leave a forwarding address.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I am well aware that you want a second chance, Matt,” she continued,“but you haven’t even taken real responsibility for the first one.”
Her voice softened, but the blade stayed sharp.
“Being their dad isn’t something you get to do when it’s convenient. It’s not a performance. It’s the backstage, the cleanup crew, the standing ovation after the lights go out.”
She gave him a final look that said everything she hadn’t. Finally, she said,“You can come by twice a week. No overnights. No Lily.”
He nodded quickly.“Of course. Thank you.”
“And I don’t want the kids in her apartment, ever.”
“Understood.”
A long silence. Then she glanced up, eyes locking onto his for the first time since he arrived.
“And Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re lucky they still love you. Don’t screw it up again.”
She walked out of the room, leaving him alone in the kitchen.
The coffee sat half-finished. The cake pop sticks poked out of the trash like bones. He was back in the house, but only as a visitor to the life he had once owned. And for now, that would have to be enough.
Chapter 4: Damage Control
Lily paced the apartment barefoot, a glass of wine in one hand, her phone in the other, refreshing Matt’s texts like a gambler hoping the next spin would be different. It wasn’t. No calls. No updates. No lies, yet. She hated silence. It made her suspicious.
When the door finally opened, she turned to find Matt with the most hopeful look on his face.
“You smell like sour grapes,” she said flatly.
“Hi to you, too,” Matt replied, tossing his keys on the counter. “It was a park day. With my kids.”
“Right. Your kids. And your ex-wife. Must’ve been nostalgic.”
He sighed and opened the fridge. Nothing he wanted. Not like his fridge at home. Home. “It wasn’t like that.”
Lily narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying already.”
Matt closed the fridge door a little harder than necessary. “We talked. For the kids. That’s all.”
“Oh, I bet. Did she gaze longingly into your eyes while your children frolicked under a rainbow of second chances?”
“Can we not do this tonight?”
Lily sipped her wine, her lip curled. “Oh, we’re doing this. You waltzed out of here with a pep in your step and came back looking like you just remembered what real happiness felt like.”
Matt didn’t respond, mostly because she was right. But also because he didn’t know how to stop her when she got like this. Which was often.
