Page 150 of When It's Us
“Not everything that feels wrong is bad, Gingersnap,” he says softly. “Maybe you could use the change.”
I’m not prepared for the weight of his words, especially coupled with his familiar nickname for me. And it’s like a knife twist in my stomach, but I stand firm.
“Peter, the boys don’t want to be here, and neither do I. It’s as simple as that. The boys need stability, but they also need me to be happy, even if I don’t know what that looks like yet. I only know Seattle isn’t the answer.”
Surprisingly, his face turns tender, and he doesn’t argue.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay.”
I blink at him, stunned. “Okay?”
He nods reluctantly. “I mean, I’m disappointed, obviously. But Ginger, I only ever want you and the boys to be happy.”
Tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t expected a knock-down, drag-out fight. That’s not who we are. But Ihadexpected more push back, more of him trying to convince me Seattle was the answer.
The fact that Peter is so willing to accept my decision only solidifies the feeling that I made the right choice. And why shouldn’tit? I’ve only ever had our boys’ best interests at heart. They’re my world.
Before this conversation, I’d felt selfish, like I was robbing them of a life they could have. But at the same time, I had to be honest with myself. I needed this. I needed to make the decision myself so I could breathe and make a life I wanted, not just the one handed to me when we split up.
“Will you stay in the house?”
I shake my head, still reeling that it was this easy. “I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot to think about.”
Peter nods. “Well, you’ll have my support no matter where you end up. And we’ll make it work with the boys.”
Relief floods through me. I know it will be tough on Peter not seeing the boys every week, and it’ll be tough on them, too. Hell, it will be tough losing that support, even being the custodial parent. I know they’ll miss their dad, but the thought of them growing up without me being happy or having something for myself didn’t feel fair to them either.
Peter and I talk for another half an hour or so, bringing up concerns and going over scenarios and ideas for holidays and school breaks. It would take effort and an open line of communication, but we’d make it work.
Later that night, as I finish zipping up our suitcases, my phone rings.
Our flight is scheduled for six a.m. tomorrow and the boys are spending one last night with Peter.
I check the screen and sigh. Mom. I’m exhausted and want to take a hot shower and fall into bed, but I answer anyway.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, good, you finally picked up. I was starting to wonder if I needed to send a search party. How was Seattle?”
I heave my suitcase to the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s fine. We’re here until the morning.”
“So?” she asks impatiently.
“We looked at a few apartments.”
“And? Did you find one? Have you signed anything? Because if you ask me—”
“We’re not moving,” I say, calm but clear. “I’m still figuring things out.”
There’s a pause. “Oh, Ginger,” she admonishes. “I don’t understand why you’d waste time looking if you weren’t serious about what’s best for those boys.”
My jaw tightens. “We were serious. Iam. But it turns out what’sbestisn’t always the most obvious choice on paper.”
“Well then, you should come to Florida,” she says, already moving on. “I could help. The boys would be close to their cousins. You could reset, get your head on straight. Maybe settle down with someone new. There’s no reason to stay in California now that—”
“Mom,” I say, quiet but firm. “Stop.”
She goes silent on the other end—truly a first for her. I almost don’t know what to do with the quiet.Almost.
