Page 40 of Abstract Passion

“Dad… why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Son, it’s not your burden to bear.” He takes a breath. “After the incident in the grocery store not long ago, which I cringed at when your mother told me, I knew it was time. Way past time. Since you moved out and we moved to Tampa, your mother has been on some kick. I thought it’d taper off, but it’s only gotten worse.”

Great. My mother losing her shit more often isnotwhat I need. Not what any of us needs.

“When I asked why she’d been in the grocery store an hour from home, she struck me. Told me it was none of my business. That she was working.” He audibly exhales. “But it was a lie. Her work never puts her near you. So, I started monitoring her closer. Tracking where she was and her phone activity.” He laughs without humor. “Sounds creepy, but I was worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Always, Devlyn. I took the brunt of your mother’s attacks over the years… to protect you. As much as I could, anyway.” He pauses a beat. “I learned your mother had been following you and your girlfriend. More often than I care to admit. When I called her out on it, she lost it. Said you were ruining your life.” He sighs heavily and I picture him tracing his brows with his thumb and finger. “I don’t want to rehash the horrible things she said, but in that moment, I no longer wanted to sit idle. No longer wanted either of us to be subject to her terror. So, I’ve spent weeks speaking with an attorney. A lot of things are tied to your mother’s name, including parts of your life. I want both of us to come out as clean as possible when it ends.”

White noise fizzles around me as I mull over this new information.

Dad is divorcing Mom.

He is leaving her.

For himself, but also for me.

Although I wish it would have happened earlier, I can’t fault him for his decisions. James Templar is not brainless. For years, I questioned how he loved my mother. How he loved someone so manipulative and brutal and poisonous. But he’d hid what lay beneath the surface of his relationship with her. He buried his suffering to keep me close.

Much as I wish he’d made a change years ago, I understand his reasons for staying.

“What happens now?”

Not much of my mother is entwined in my life. Her name carried weight in the art community and opened doors for me in the past, but it no longer bears the same influence. Yes, the Templar name has significance in the area, but I tip the scales more than her now. My art speaks volumes and I no longer need the influence of Karen Templar.

The only thing I question now is my house. Mom insisted on helping out when purchasing the house after college. Seeing as I had minimal credit and was just building my savings, I didn’t deny her.

When was the last time I looked at my mortgage statement? Months, perhaps. And how had the deed been titled when the sale of the house finalized? My name was on the deed, but it hadn’t been the only name printed. Did half of my house belong to her?Oh, god. Bile rises in my throat at the idea of my safe space—the house I invited Shelly into, the place where our child will grow and learn and laugh—is possibly tainted and at risk.

Shit.

“I hear your mind spinning from here. Devlyn, everything will be fine.”

“What about my house?” The words a squeaky whisper on my tongue.

If her name is on this house, I will move us out. Find us a new home, far from here. Last thing I or Shelly need is my mother’s torment because her life is upside down. I won’t put Shelly or the baby in harm’s way. I won’t allow my mother to ruin either of them the way she did me and Dad.

“Your house is yours, son.”

“Isn’t she—”

“No. She’s not on the deed or the loan. I am, which I’ll happily change, if you wish.”

Thank the powers that be.

Dad and I talk another twenty minutes before he says goodbye. But before he hangs up, he asks to have dinner with me and Shelly sometime soon. That and he wants more calls or texts, even if there is nothing notable to talk about.

When the call disconnects, a tremendous weight lifts from my shoulders. Not all of it is gone, but it feels more bearable. Manageable. Less pained and more healing.

It feels like my life is finally heading in a positive direction in every way. Something I need—not just for myself, but also for Shelly and our future.

For the first time in my adult life, I breathe and it hurts less.

SEVENTEEN

SHELLY

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