Page 91 of Personal Foul
“Oh, Charity. I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
“Does Hope know?”
Silence greets my question. And as the seconds tick by, I know the answer.
Mom finally confirms it. “Yes,” she says on a quiet sigh.
“I see,” I say just as quietly. “Are you getting a divorce?”
Another long pause. “I don’t know yet.”
I’m nodding, even though she can’t see me. My eyes fall closed, and a few tears slip out. Now it’s my turn to sniff.
“Oh, honey.” Mom’s pained voice is full of sympathy. “I know this is all so hard on you. And there’s nothing I can do to make it better. I wish there were.”
More tears slip down my cheeks.
“I would love to see you next Saturday. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but this separation is what’s best for all of us. It means I will be able to open my own bank account and keep my money. All of my marital assets are tied to your father, and since his assets are frozen, I can’t access them either. If we’re living separately, I can at least make enough money to pay my bills and help you pay your bills.”
I nod some more. “Yeah.” Sniff. “I get it.”
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you too, Mom.”
We end the call, and I sit on the edge of Dylan’s bed, staring at my phone for I don’t know how long, tears creating an abstract droplet pattern on my lap.
Eventually, there’s a gentle knock on the door, and it pushes open slowly, Dylan’s head peeking around the edge. “Hey, Spitfire. You okay?”
When I raise my head and look at him, his face crumples in sympathy, and he quickly crosses the room to get to me. Sitting next to me, he pulls me into his arms, rubbing my back and holding me while I cry.
His concern and sympathy breaks open the floodgates holding back the worst of my tears, and I sob into his chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Dylan
I toss my things in the trunk of my car and answer my phone while I climb in the driver side door. “Hey, Tori. I’m just about to pick up Charity and head out. We won’t get in until like ten tonight, so I probably won’t see you until tomorrow.”
“Why in the world are you cutting it so close?”
Laughing, I put the phone on speaker so I can drive more easily. “I’m not sure arriving almost twenty-four hours in advance counts as cutting it close, but okay. If you say so.”
My sister lets out an aggravated sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Mom is just driving me nuts. Having you here would help a ton. She’s going to spend all day texting me until we’re both off work, and then she’ll spend all night badgering me with questions and reminders of who to make sure I talk to and how to conduct myself at a party as though I haven’t been to a billion since I was twelve years old.”
“Awww, is the stress of wedding planning getting to you already?”
“Oh my God, you have no idea.”
“If she’s this bad with just the engagement party, imagine how much worse the actual wedding will be.”
She lets out a horrified groan. “Oh, trust me. That’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”
“So is it going to be a courthouse elopement? Or are you guys going to be super classy and do it at an Elvis-themed chapel in Vegas?”
That at least makes her laugh, and when she finishes, she lets out a resigned sigh. “I think between those two options, I’d pick the courthouse. But no, I don’t think an elopement is in the cards, no matter how appealing it sounds right now.”
“Is the wedding what you really want? Or are you doing it because you know if you don’t, Mom and Dad will pitch a fit?”
