“I’m up anyway. Happens after long runs.”
They went downstairs to the kitchen. Mike put on the kettle, took out two mugs, moved quietly so he wouldn’t wake his mother or the children.
“Nervous about tomorrow?”
“A little.”
“Want me to drive you?”
Lucy shook her head.
“Thanks, but no. I need to do this myself.”
“I get that.”
He set a mug of tea in front of her and sat down across the table.
“But if anything happens, call me. I’ll come.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“All of this. Help. Care. We’re basically strangers.”
Mike was quiet for a long moment, looking at his hands—big, tanned, rough from years of work.
“When my father left, I was ten,” he said at last. “Mom worked three jobs to keep us fed. Me and my sister. My sister died later, at twenty, from an illness. And I remember hearing my mother cry at night. She thought I was asleep. I wasn’t. I just couldn’t do anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What I’m saying is… you’re strong. Stronger than you know. But being strong doesn’t mean doing everything alone. Sometimes you’re allowed to lean on the people standing nearby.”
He looked up then, and something inside Lucy shifted. Something she had long ago assumed was dead.
“Thank you, Mike.”
“Call me Mike, not Michael. ‘Michael’ sounds like I’m in trouble.”
She smiled.
“Then you call me Lucy.”
“Deal.”
The next day Lucy arrived at the café fifteen minutes early. She sat at a table by the wall and ordered tea. Eric was twenty minutes late, as usual. He had barely changed. Same gray eyes, same neat haircut, same business suit. Only there were shadows under his eyes now, and deeper lines around his mouth.
“Hi,” he said, sitting down without apologizing. “You look good.”
“Thank you. What did you want to talk about?”
He frowned—he never liked getting right to the point.
“Maybe we order something first?”
“I’m in a hurry. Go ahead.”
Eric drummed his fingers on the table, a habit she had once found charming.
“I want to see the kids more.”
“You can see them now whenever you actually show up. I’ve never stopped you.”
“Not in that house.”
He said it with a little twist of disgust.
“And not around that…”
“That what?” Lucy asked.
“That setup. I want them at my place. With Regina and me.”
Lucy felt her hands go cold.
“Who is Regina?”
“My partner. We’ve been living together three months.”
Three months. So they had moved in together a month after he left. Maybe sooner, if she was honest. “There’s no one else,” he had said over breakfast. A lie. Of course it was a lie.
“You left for her.”
“Lucy, that’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
Eric let out a breath, irritated.
“Fine. Yes, I met her before I left. But I didn’t leave because of her. I left because of you. Because I was tired. Tired of the routine. The house stuff. Your constant unhappiness.”
“My unhappiness?”
“You were never satisfied. Always wanted something—buy a house, get a better car, take a trip. I worked like a dog to support all of you.”
Lucy looked at him and felt as if she were seeing a stranger. This man she had lived with for thirteen years, borne three children for, loved—or thought she had loved—was completely foreign to her.
“I wanted you to be present,” she said quietly. “To talk to me. To notice me.”
“There it is again,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the issue. Regina wants to meet the kids. I want them spending weekends with us.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“The children are not sleeping over with a woman they don’t know.”
“She’s not a woman they don’t know. She’s my family now.”
“Three months is not family. It’s a relationship.”
Eric’s face darkened.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do get to decide what’s best for my children. And right now the answer is no. Maybe later, when things are stable, we can talk.”
“I’ll take you to court.”
“Then take me.”
They stared at each other across the table—two strangers who had once promised forever.
“You’ve changed,” Eric said finally. “You’re harder now. Stronger.”
He gave a short laugh, but there was something in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or surprise. She had never said no to him before.
“By the way,” he said, pulling out his phone, “my mother says you’ve got someone. Some sailor.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“If my children are living in a house with another man, it is my business.”
“They’re living in a house with the homeowner and her son. And for the record, he’s given them more time and attention in four months than their own father has.”
Eric pressed his lips together.
