LARA
The drive home is a blur, and I think, distantly, that maybe I should have called someone to give me a ride, or got a taxi home. But the thought of leaving my car at Jake’s — ortellingsomeone about this whole thing — makes my stomach twist, so I keep driving.
Outside the café, a stray cat lounges around the door, looking up at me with needy eyes. My mom will fill a cat bowl with food for them in the morning, but right now I don’t have time, so I step past him and make the climb up the stairs to the apartment.
I can’t stop myself from thinking about climbing the stairs all those years ago with Jake, hands shaking as we took our clothes off, fumbling and laughing as we tried to figure things out. The way he held me like I was the most precious thing in his life.
When I unlock the door, I’m already thinking about getting a glass of wine and sitting in the bathtub until I feel better and I can figure out what to do about this whole situation.
“Lara?”
I stop sobbing long enough only to realize Zachery is standing in the kitchen, holding onto the back of a breakfast bar stool to keep it from falling over, like he stood up fast when he heard the key latch turning. His eyes are wide, and he looks me up and down with fear.
“What is it? Are the kids okay?”
“They—” I choke, then nod, not wanting him to think anything has happened to the triplets. He relaxes a bit, then takes a step forward.
He looks tired, worn out, and for the briefest moment, I wonder ifhe’sokay. It hasn’t been that long since he left the note about his safari guide job. Was he fired? Did something really bad happen?
But I don’t have the energy to ask, and Zachery speaks before I can.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”
The last time I cried like this in front of him, I had been working on the maternity ward when a woman lost one of her twins. The thought of it happening to me when I was giving birth to the triplets almost made me sick in the delivery room.
“No—” I stop again, unable to speak, and Zachery comes over, putting his arm around me and pulling me to him, until I’m cradled in his chest and crying even harder. He doesn’t smell great, honestly. A little sweaty, barely covered with a mist of cologne, but I hug him back, great sobs moving through me like minor earthquakes.
It only gets worse when I think about the man I wish was actually holding me right now. When I think about the lookon Jake’s face, his blatant grief over the loss of time with the triplets...
That face made me feel like the worst person in the world. Like it was completely obvious that not telling him had been the wrong choice. Like I was doing it on purpose, maliciously, only wanting to hurt him.
When I finally calm down, Zachery pulls away from me and fetches some tissues, handing them to me and throwing them away until I’m cleaned up and calm enough to tell him what happened.
“Oh,fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I had no idea that Jake was even back in town.”
“I texted you,” I say weakly, knowing that Zachery moves around so much that his cell service is tenuous at best.
He makes a face. “I didn’t upgrade my phone card for Africa.”
“It’s okay,” I mutter, even though deep down, it’s not. It’s hard to have a best friend who’s only in town every once in a while. A best friend that my kids love and hardly ever get to see.
A best friend who can’t even be bothered to answer my texts when I need him.
“So, what do you think is going to happen now? Do you think Jake will take you to court?”
I freeze, a tissue halfway to my nose. “Take me to court, what do you mean?”
Zachery’s eyebrows raise, and I notice that he did pull the trigger and go for purple with his hair. He brushes it out of his face as he says, “For custody? Of the kids?”
The thought of that — of someone trying to take my kids from me, even if it’s just Jake trying to get some time with them — sends me into sobs all over again, the panic flashing in my chest like a strobe light.
Jake wouldneverdo that. I know that, and yet, the fear is as real for me now as the monsters the kids always cry about are for them. Not logical, but scary, nonetheless.
“He- he couldn’t do that, could he?”
“I don’t know, maybe not!” Zachery puts his hands up and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I realize that wasn’t the right thing to say at this particular moment.”
“Yeah, you think?”
