I spun around, cutting her off. “I have made several mistakes, Mother. But this is the first time in my life that I’m not making any. I’m trying to fix the mistakes I did make. Please, just…just let us get our things, let Matt finish with the tire, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
I slipped past her again as the children came into view and, this time, she let me go.
There was nothing left to be said. Nothing left to be done.
I needed to get my children and run before my husband came back. It was only a matter of time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PETER
With my bag packed, I loaded up the rental car and headed out. Driving down the long, wooded driveway always made me think of the early days of picking out our land.
I’d been hell-bent on getting acreage for…obvious…reasons, but Ainsley had thought living closer to the city would be easier on us all, especially when life started to get busier with the kids’ extracurriculars and our jobs. When I’d found the listing for this plot of land, I’d fallen in love with it. It was our own little oasis. All the privacy we could ever need and still just a few minutes from everything.
Of course, now that I was alone out here, what had once felt like an oasis now felt like the prison walls were closing in.
You could go crazy out there in the woods alone.
I was beginning to understand that.
I wasn’t built to be alone.
Know your strengths and all that…
I needed my wife back. I needed my kids back.
I needed the chaos and craziness that came with them being home.
It hurt that the kids weren’t answering my calls or texts, even just to say hello or that they missed me as much as I missed them. I’d never gone so long without talking to them, which meant there had to be a reason. I could only imagine what horrible lies she’d fed them about me, but soon enough, I’d let them know the truth.
As I drove down the long driveway, I glanced out my window, seeing the trees zipping past and remembering the way the boys used to meet me at the end of the driveway when I’d arrive home and race the car with their bikes.
I remembered how excited they’d get when we’d see a deer in the woods. And how we’d take hikes on particularly nice days in the summer.
So much had changed over the course of the years, and I’d never really stopped to examine the why of it all, but now, I was beginning to understand it.
Ainsley had become so preoccupied with fixing us all, she’d let everything else fall by the wayside. We weren’t her projects, but you could never convince her of that.
As much as I loved my wife, I’d enabled her to become what she was, and now, I was paying the consequences.
My children were paying the consequences.
Farther into town, I pulled into a store’s parking lot and stopped the car. Inside the store, I moved down the aisles with purpose, seeking out some of the kids’ favorite things. For Maisy, I picked up three novels from the very limited young adult section. For Dylan, I found his favorite cologne, a book on one of his favorite musicians, and the expensive pomade he loved but rarely got. Riley was last and maybe the easiest—two bags of chips and a Harry Potter LEGO set I was pretty sure he didn’t already own.
With all of the kids’ gifts in the cart, I began to fret over what would bring Ainsley home. Would a gift be enough? An apology? What would convince her I forgave her enough to bring her home to me? I kept waiting for the phone to ring again—I wouldn’t be the one to call her, but if she called again, I just might answer.
I’d hoped she’d leave a voicemail, but no such luck.
Moving down the next aisle, I smelled perfumes and creams, deciding on a bath salt scrub I knew she loved and then moved to the women’s clothing. The hot-pink robe she loved so much had been destroyed in the fire, so I picked out a similar one and tossed it into the cart. If that wasn’t enough, I wasn’t sure what was. After all, she was the one who should be apologizing. She should be buying me gifts.
But this was just the kind of man I was.
Always giving.
Always thoughtful.
My wife was so lucky.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AINSLEY
Checking into a hotel with cash was, apparently, not as easy as they make it appear on television. Despite the fact that I was willing to pay for the entire stay up front, the hotel required a card to be put on file.
“You’re sure this won’t end up on my statement at all?” I asked, for what must’ve been the third or fourth time. The woman behind the counter, whose name tag told me her name was Heather, didn’t meet my eye as she answered.