Page 84 of The Write Choice

His expression changes, but there’s still a hard edge to it that I can’t quite read. Is it worry? Anger? “You can tell me, Katie. You’re not in trouble or anything—”

“In trouble?” I fire back. “You’re not my parent, Brandon. What the hell is going on?”

He puts his hands up, palms out. “That was the wrong thing to say. I just mean I’m not mad. I want to help. It makes sense, why you’d want me home more often, why you struggled so much with the kids both being in school—”

“I can’t believe this,” I cut him off again. Everything Nora and I spoke about the other day flies out the window. All the pride she instilled in me, all the faith she helped me find in myself means nothing if he doesn’t trust me. “Where this is coming from, Brandon?” I sound a little desperate, but I don’t try to hide it. He’s pulled the rug out from under me.

He stands and takes a step toward me, and that’s when I see it. A half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the island next to his coffee cup. I inhale sharply. “Where did you get that?” I whisper.

“The place was a mess with medicine and food everywhere.” His eyes don’t leave me. “You were finally sleeping soundly, so I came down here to clean up. I found a box under the sink and figured it was some stuff you hadn’t gotten to unpack yet or hadn’t wanted to until you decided we were going to stay.”

“That box says ‘Katie’s Stuff.’” I’m seething and trying, unsuccessfully, to control it.

“I was trying to help by putting it away.”

“You had no right!” I explode. “I don’t go through your shit in your office. Can’t I have one private—clearly labeled—box?”

“Have you been drinking, Katie?”

I throw my hands wide and smack them loudly against my thighs on the way down. “I can’t believe you even have to ask. Would you believe me if I said no?”

He stares at me for a moment before he says quietly, “That’s not an answer.”

“Neither was that.” I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, the pain in my heart almost overtaking the anger I felt just a minute ago. “Actually, I suppose it was. You wouldn’t believe me. Because if you would, you’d know the answer already. If you really looked at how hard I’ve tried to keep it together, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

He doesn’t respond. His face is carefully neutral, and I can see he isn’t going to say anything. I bark a humorless laugh and turn on my heel, grabbing my keys and boots as I pass them.

“Katie,” he protests.

“I need some space,” I parrot his words from not too long ago. I don’t turn around to look at him. I just throw open the door to the garage, get in my car, and back out of the driveway.

I don’t know where I’m going. I only know I need to get out of there, so I drive around aimlessly for a few minutes until driving in my socks starts to get too annoying. I pull over in a coffee shop parking lot and put my boots on, then go through the drive-thru to order some coffee and a muffin. I sit in my car and eat. It takes the edge off my hunger but doesn’t do much for my frustration.

By the time I’m done, I still don’t have a plan. Brandon hasn’t even tried to call or text, which figures. It’s possible he’s giving me the space I asked for, but I’m not going to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s usually one to avoid issues and hope they blow over.

Well, two can play at that game. I can get the kids and hang out with Mac for a while or bring them home and use them as a buffer. They owe me for all those diapers I changed, anyway.

I don’t bother calling Mac or Daniel. They have to guess we’re coming soon, and I don’t want to know if Brandon is there or not. Part of me wants to completely avoid him for as long as I can, and part of me wants him to come looking for me. But zero part of me wants to know if he’s there already, because then I’d lose my nerve.

I drive the short distance to their house. Brandon’s car is in the driveway, which makes my heart skip nervously a few times, until I remember he and Daniel switched cars to avoid the car seat shuffle. There’s another car parked on the street, but it isn’t Daniel’s, so that must mean Brandon isn’t here. Which is fine, I tell myself. Totally fine.

Muffled shouts come from the other side of the door. I bet Daniel and Mac are losing their minds with my wild children. I ring the doorbell quickly, both because it’s cold and I forgot my coat, and because it’s probably time to get the kids home and let the newlyweds get back to their peace.

Daniel answers the door with a huge smile, which falls immediately upon seeing me. “Aww, man.” He’s clearly annoyed I’m there.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I snap.

He furrows his brow briefly, then relaxes. “Oh, no. We were playing with the roller coaster in the living room—”

“The what?” There’s no way I heard that right.

Daniel laughs with no small amount of trepidation. “The roller coaster. Do you want to come see it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Do I? Is it going to give me a heart attack to know what you’ve been up to all weekend?”

He chuckles, moving out of the way and motioning me inside. “No,” he says as I pass him. “It’s small. It’s a little baby thing I picked up at the store that we set up. I promise, it’s totally safe.”

Mason whoops from the living room, and a man’s booming laughter follows. Daniel rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Well, we might not be using it according to the directions.”