My fingers tremble above the screen as I stare at Dylan’s name.It’s just a message. Just a few words.Minutes feel like an eternity before I finally type:
It’s been 190 days, and my feelings for you haven’t faded. I still think about you all the time… wondering how you are. Some days it feels like the last year wasn’t real. Like you weren’t real.
I know I said we needed to end things, but sometimes I struggle with the ‘why.’ Why do I have to keep breaking my own heart? Why did we say goodbye? Why can’t we be friends?
I miss you. Did Gabriella have her baby? Did Amelia finally get engaged to Johnny? Did you sell the ranch? I’m rambling. Just wanted to say happy birthday.
Before I can second-guess myself, I tap the button.
Send.
My chest tightens the second the message delivers.
What if he doesn’t reply? What if he hates me?
Three agonizing days pass without a response from Dylan, and I wonder if I’m doomed to keep making the same mistake. Reaching out when I should let go. Wanting what I shouldn’t. Creating more chaos when I swore I’d finally accept peace.
Every time my phone buzzes, my stomach sinks. But I try to keep busy. Izzy’s crazy dating stories entertain me. My girls keep me on my toes. And I’m still doing marriage counseling, even though Jacob and I live apart.
I know, I know. It's insanity doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. But the truth is, I don’t know how to let go yet. Maybe it’s the kids. Maybe the finality of divorce terrifies the hell out of me. Or maybe I’m still hoping we’ll magically just figure it out.
Either way, the weight of this lie feels unbearable. I imagine blurting it out to Izzy, slipping it between bites of salad, like, “Hey. By the way, I’m a lying, cheating whore who had an affair for months.”But she’s Jacob’s sister.
Thankfully, Lily’s birthday today offers a welcome distraction.
She wakes me up early, bouncing on my bed. “Mom! I’m twelve. Can I open all my presents now? Please, please, please!” Surprisingly, the girls, and even our bulldog, seem to be handling the back-and-forth custody arrangements better than I expected.
I hug her tightly, kissing her cheeks twelve times, one for every year she’s been alive, plus one for good luck. Ava jumps on the bed next, holding Boner Dong, laughter filling the room. But we’re missing someone. Jacob.
Through the unplanned dance party on my bed, I hear my phone buzz on the nightstand. I roll toward it and pick it up.
Jacob:Hey, start the party without me. Work emergency. Be there as soon as I can.
Disappointment flickers, but I shove it aside. Jacob’s job always comes first. It’s something I’ve had to accept. Lately, though, every time I look at my girls, I wonder if this is the life I want for them. The loneliness. The secrets and double life.
Lily’s sleepover party is a whirlwind of laughter and energy with ten tweens giggling over boys and Taylor Swift. Izzy plays nail artist while glow-in-the-dark tents, balloons, and cotton candy mocktails turn the living room into a dream birthday. Jacob even surprises the girls with Taylor Swift tickets.
For a moment, it almost feels like we have arrived at a new normal, whatever the hell that means. Over the last few weeks, Jacob and I finally figured out a routine that doesn’t make me want to rip my hair out. The kids seem happier too. Or at least they haven’t asked when I’m going back home with Daddy today.
Izzy shoots me a look. She’s smiling, but it can’t hide the sadness in her eyes. A reminder that nothing about this has been easy for the kids, for me, for any of us.
The next morning is pure mayhem, which is exactly what I need. A dozen pancakes on the griddle, parents lingering outside for small talk, and the aftermath of a chocolate syrup war. Jacob’s waiting to take the kids back to our house for the week, when my phone lights up on the kitchen table.
“When are you going to fix this cracked screen?” Jacob asks, handing me my phone.
“It gives it character,” I say with a shrug. “Plus, I’d probably just drop it again.”
He steals a bite of leftover cake. “Or you could try being more careful,” he jokes. “Who’s texting anyways? Your replacement husband?”
I stutter as I open the message. “Just… Izzy.” I manage a forced laugh.
Not Izzy.Him.Panic surges through me.
This isn’t happening. What if he wants to meet? What if he’s moved on? What if he breaks my heart all over again?
The message sits there, unread. I can’t deal with this now. Not with Jacob standing so close. I toss the phone inside my purse.
Jacob glances over at me, his brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”
