Brook
The house felt different with people in it again. Less like a mausoleum, more like a
home—even if that home was currently falling apart. River had shown up that
morning with Lacey, their arms loaded with grocery bags. "You're eating," he'd
said, not a question but a statement, already unpacking fresh fruit, pre-made meals,
the good bread from the bakery I loved. "And before you argue, Lacey's already
meal-pr epped for the week. You just have to heat things up." Lacey had hugged me
carefully, mindful of my belly. "We've got you, Brook. Whatever you need." Now, as
evening settled in, Letti and Mavis arrived with Thai takeout and three bottles—two
wine , one sparkling cider with a little bow on top. "The fancy stuff," Mavis
announced, holding up the cider. "Because you and Sofia deserve bubbles too." I
tried to smile. It felt foreign on my face, like I'd forgotten how my mouth was
supposed to work. We spread out in the living room, containers of pad thai and
green curry covering the coffee table. Preston was upstairs, finally content after
River had spent an hour building an elaborate block tower with him. The sound of
their laughter had been the first good thing I'd felt in days. "So," Letti said, pouring
the cider into a wine glass for me with exaggerated ceremony. "How are you really
doing?" I looked down at my glass, watching the bubbles rise and pop. "I don't
know. I'm angry. I'm heartbroken. I'm terrified. I'm seven months pregnant and my
husband thinks I cheated on him because
his psychotic sister showed him a fake DNA test." My voice cracked. "And the worst
part? I still love him. How pathetic is that?" "It's not pathetic," Lacey said firmly.
"You've been together for seven years. You don't just turn off love like a switch."
"Even when he deserves it," Mavis muttered darkly. River leaned forward, his
expression serious. "His parents called today." I looked up sharply. "What?" "Yeah.
John and Juni. Wanted to 'work things out,' talk about 'what's best for the family.'"
His jaw tightened. "I told them what's best for the family is for their son to have
trusted his wife. Told them they raised a daughter who's a manipulative liar and a
son who apparently has no spine. Then I hung up." "River," I whispered. "No." He
shook his head. "They don't get to do this. They don't get to side with Celeste, let
Tyson walk out on you while you're pregnant, and then decide now they want to
play peacemaker. Fuck that." Fisher nodded from his spot next to Lake. "They made
their choice. They can live with it." "He's been calling," I admitted quietly. "Texting.
I haven't answered. I can't... I can't hear his voice right now." Mavis shifted, looking
uncomfortable. "I saw him today. At the grocery store." My heart did something
painful in my chest. "And?" "He looked like shit, Brook. I'm sorry, but he did.
Unshaven, like he hasn't sl ept in days. He was just standing in the cereal aisle
staring
at nothing. I don't think he even saw me." She paused. "He had Preston's favorite
cereal in his cart. The one with the cartoon tiger." I felt tears prick my eyes. I
pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob that wanted to es cape.
Sofia kicked, hard , as if reminding me she was there. As if reminding me I had to
be strong. "I hate this," I whispered. "I hate that he's hurting. I hate that I care that
he's hurting. He did this. He chose to believe her over me." "You're allowed to still
love him and still be furious," Letti said gently. "Those things can exist at the same
time." "I don't know if I can forgive him." The words felt like glass in my throat.
"Even if the DNA test proves Preston is his—which it will— how do I get past the
fact that he looked at our son and doubted? That he looked at me, at our entire life
together, and thought I was capable of that?" No one had an answer. Because there
wasn't a good one. After we ate, after the conversation drifted to safer
topics—Lacey's new job, Mavis's disaster of a first date, Letti's mother's ongoing
kitchen renovation—River stood up. "Come on," he said. "Let's get some of his stuff
packed up. You shouldn't have to look at it every day." I hadn't asked them to do
this. Hadn't even thought about it. But now that he'd said it, I realized how much I
needed it. Needed to reclaim some space, some control. We went upstairs to the
bedroom—our bedroom, though it hadn't felt like "ours" since he'd walked out.
River pulled boxes from the garage while Mavis and Letti started carefully
removing Tyson's clothes from the closet.
I stood there, watching them fold his shirts, pack his shoes. Each item felt like a
small death. The flannel he'd worn on our first real date. The tie from our wedding.
The ratty college sweatshirt he refused to throw away. "This is really happening," I
said softly. Lake came to stand beside me, slipping her arm around my waist. "Only
if you want it to. You're in control here, Brook. Not him. Not his family. You." I
nodded, but I wasn't sure I believed it. I didn't feel in control. I felt like I was
drowning. From down the hall, I heard Preston's door open. Small footst eps padded
toward us. "Mama?” I turned to see him in the doorway, clutching his stuffed
el ephant, his eyes wide as he took in the boxes, the people, his father's things being
packed away. "Where's Daddy's stuff going?" Everyone froze. I could feel their eyes
on me, waiting. I knelt down—awkwardly, heavily, my pregnant belly making it
difficult—and held out my arms. Preston came to me, and I pulled him close. "Baby,
Daddy made some mistakes. Some big mistakes. And right now, Mama and Daddy
need some time apart." "Is Daddy coming back?" The question broke something in
me. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."
Preston buried his face in my shoulder, and I felt his little body shake with silent
tears. Behind me, I heard Mavis sniffle, heard River curse under his breath. This
was what Tyson had done. This was what his doubt, his lack of faith, had cost us.
And I didn't know if any amount of groveling could ever make it right.