“I know. I remember Cape Cod.” I take her plate to the kitchen and prepare it to go.
* * *
Josh is asleep on the couch when I finally make it back home. Anime is playing on the television, so I hit pause and set the remote on the coffee table.
I watch him sleep for a little while, overcome with relief after the day I’ve had. Things could have gone a lot differently. I press my lips together, choking back the emotional exhaustion as I watch him sleep in peace. I realize as I’m staring at him that I’m looking at him the same way Lily looks at Emerson, like she’s so full of pride.
I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over him, then I walk to the table where Josh’s homework is laid out. Everything is completed, even the family tree assignment.
He drew a tiny seedling sprouting from the ground with two small branches. One says Josh and one says Atlas.
Chapter Thirty-Four Lily
I almost missed the note, I was in such a rush this morning. It was shoved under my front door and was caught on the entry rug.
I had Emmy on my hip, a purse and a diaper bag on my shoulder, and coffee in my free hand. I managed to bend and pick up the note without spilling any of it. Supermom.
I had to wait until I got a quiet moment at work to open it. When I unfold the note and see Atlas’s handwriting, I feel a shiver of relief run through me. Not because I thought the note would be from anyone other than Atlas. We’ve been together several months now, and he leaves me notes all the time. But this is one of the first notes he’s left that a small part of me hasn’t dreaded opening, in the off chance the note was from Ryle.
I make a mental note of the significance of this moment.
I do that a lot. Mentally note significant things that are clues my life is finally getting back to normal. I don’t do it as often as I used to, but that’s a good thing. Ryle is such a small part of my life now, I sometimes forget how eternally complicated I used to believe it would be.
He’s still a part of Emmy’s life, but I’ve been demanding more structure from him. He sometimes tries to push back on how strict I am with her visits, but I’m never going to be comfortable until she can tell me in her own words what her visits with Ryle are like. I’m hoping anger management is helping, but only time will tell.
The contact Ryle and I do have is still sometimes terse, but all I’ve ever wanted out of our divorce was my freedom from fear, and I truly feel like I have that.
I’m hiding in my office storage closet, sitting cross-legged on the floor because I wanted to read this letter uninterrupted. It’s been months since I forced Atlas to hide out in here, but it still smells like him.
I unfold the note and trace the little open heart he drew at the top left-hand corner of the first page. I’m already smiling as I begin to read.
Dear Lily,
I don’t know if you’re aware of the date, but we have officially been dating for half of an entire year. Do people celebrate half-year anniversaries? I would have gotten you flowers, but I don’t like to make the florist work too hard.
I decided to give you this note, instead.
They say there are two sides to every story, and I’ve read a couple of stories of yours that, even though they happened the way you said they did, I had an entirely different experience.
You kind of brushed over this moment in your journals, even though I know it meant enough for you to get a tattoo. But I’m not sure you’re aware of how much that moment meant to me.
You say our first kiss happened on your bed, but that’s not the one I count as our first kiss. Our first kiss happened on a Monday in the middle of the day.
It was that time I got sick and you took care of me. You noticed I was ill as soon as I crawled through your window. I remember you taking immediate action. You gave me medicine, water, and blankets, and forced me to sleep on your bed.
I don’t remember ever being sicker than that in my entire life. I do believe you witnessed the most awful day I’ve ever lived through. And I’ve lived through some awful days. But when you’re in it, there seems to be nothing worse in the moment than a horrible stomach bug.
I don’t remember a lot of that night. I remember your hands, though. Your hands were always near me, either checking my temperature or wiping my face with a rag or holding my shoulders steady while I repeatedly had to fold over the side of your bed throughout the night.
That’s what I remember: your hands. You had a light pink polish on, I even remember the name of the color because I had been with you when you painted your nails. It was called Surprise Lily and you told me you picked it because of the name.