I square my shoulders and press my trembling lips together as I look at this incredible man in front of me and break his heart.
“I married John Kingston because I knew he could protect me, and I couldn’t do it myself. I didn’t question what he was getting out of it, and he never told me. I was a pretty wife. A trophy on his arm. A prized possession he could brag about. But he never mistreated me. He was kind. And he gave me his family. He made me a part of something.” Then I lower my voice to just above a whisper. “He gave me Madeline. So for the rest of my life, I’ll be grateful.”
UNKNOWN
I’ve given you time, Ashlyn.
But you’ve turned to him instead of me.
You’ve hurt me, and hurt leads to anger.
Don’t make me angry.
-The Collector
ASHLYN
Iplace an egg white omelet in front of Lindy as she sets two glasses of pineapple-orange juice on our kitchen table late Sunday morning. We work together in the kitchen like a well-oiled machine. We may not be the best cooks, but our eggs are on point, and we make killer grilled cheese. The rest is typically takeout or eating on the run between her rink time, school, and Ever After.
Today, however, we both slept in.
We had cheesy popcorn and decided to have a scary movie marathon last night in my bed, since it was just us. I’m not sure what time we fell asleep, but I’m feeling sluggish today. Lack of sleep for the past two nights and having my first cup of coffee a little later than normal today have caught up with me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
I mean,it can’t actually bethat I was restless last night because Brandon wasn’t here.
I’ve only slept in bed with him once.
Something I’m hoping to fix very soon.
Instead, I’m going to blame my exhaustion on my daughter, who slept like a starfish, taking up the entire bed, the way she’s done since she was a baby. Some things change, but others, thankfully, stay the same. I watch her over the top of my coffee and let the caffeine work its magic, wondering when she became this incredible young woman.
Her curls are gone, replaced by long sheets of straight dirty-blonde hair. High cheekbones sit where full chubby cheeks used to be, and don’t even get me started on her strong, lithe frame. One any elite athlete earns day in and out with hours spent honing their skills. She’s beautiful inside and out, and I’m lucky to be her mom.
Even if I’m not quite ready for this next stage inherlife.
So how exactly am I supposed to talk to her about this new stage inmy ownlife?
I told myself I’d talk to her about Brandon when I picked her up from Kenzie’s house Saturday, but I didn’t. I thought about trying to work it into the conversation last night but stuffed my face full of popcorn instead.Definitely mom of the year.
“So... what do you want to do today?” I ask, chickening out. The tough questions can wait until after I’m caffeinated.
“I thought I could study while we watch the game. I’m loving thismom-time,but I’ve got a calc test tomorrow.” Yup. Too mature in some ways and still so much my baby in others.
“You know what?” I lean forward and smile, trying not to look too excited. That’s the kiss of death with a teenager. Let them know you’re happy about something they’re saying or doing, and that shit stops right away. Forget looking cool. They’ll fight you for fun. “That sounds perfect to me.”
“What time is Brandon coming home?”
Oh shit. I think I need stronger coffee.
The little brat smiles at me, and I realize a little too late, I walked right into her trap.
Abort. Abort.
It’s like there’s a voice from mission control in my head, warning me to tread very carefully. Wait... does that make me crazy? Am I hearing voices?
“Mom...”
Right. No time like the present, I guess. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that...”