Chapter 24: It Starts with Us: Chapter 24

There’s a pounding in my head.

And outside my head.

I lift my face off my pillow and feel drool on my chin. I wipe it away with the corner of my pillowcase. I sit up and see that Atlas left a note beside me. I grab for it, but then hear the knock again, so I tuck the note under my pillow for later and force myself to clear space in my foggy brain to make room for what’s happening in this moment.

Emmy is at my mother’s.

I just had the best night of sleep I’ve had in two years.

Someone is at my door.

I reach for my phone on my nightstand and try to focus on the screen. I have several missed calls from Ryle, which makes me concerned something is wrong. But the only thing I have from my mother is a picture of Emmy eating breakfast from half an hour ago.

Phew. Emmy is okay. I immediately relax, but knowing Ryle is probably the one knocking on my door doesn’t allow for much relaxation.

“Hold on!” I yell.

I throw on something quick—a T-shirt and jeans—and then I open the door to let him in. He moves past me, into the apartment, without being invited in. “Is everything okay?” He looks panicked, but also relieved to see that I’m alive.

“I was asleep. Everything is fine.” He can tell I’m annoyed. He glances around the room for Emmy. “She spent the night at my mother’s.”

“Oh.” He’s disappointed. “I tried calling because I wanted to pick her up for a few hours. You weren’t answering your phone, and you’re always awake by now…” Ryle’s voice trails off when he sees the couch. I don’t have to look at the couch to know what he’s staring at. My T-shirt and panties are still tossed haphazardly over the back of it, I’m sure.

“Let me call my mother and let her know you’re coming.” I go get my phone from my room, hoping Ryle isn’t about to question me. He’s ruining the good mood Atlas left me in last night.

When I walk back into the living room, I pause while searching for my mother’s contact on my phone. Ryle is holding a wineglass in his hand, inspecting it. It’s the one Atlas drank from. Mine is on the counter next to it—a clear indication that someone was here with me drinking wine last night.

Before my underwear got removed and left on the couch.

I can see Ryle’s jealousy bubbling over when he sets down the wineglass and looks straight at me. “Did someone stay the night?”

I don’t bother denying it. I’m an adult. A single adult. Well, possibly not single anymore, but that’s another matter. “We’re divorced, Ryle. You can’t ask me questions like that.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Ryle immediately responds by taking two quick steps toward me. “I can’t ask you if someone spent the night in the home my daughter lives in?”

I take a step back. “That’s not what I meant. And I wouldn’t bring anyone around her without your approval; that’s why she’s at my mother’s.”

Ryle’s eyes are narrowed, accusing. He looks disgusted by me. “You won’t leave her with me overnight, but you’ll drop her off somewhere else when you want to get fucked?” He laughs. “Great parenting, Lily.”

Now I’m getting angry. “This is only the second time I’ve ever left her overnight since she was born almost a year ago. Don’t shame me for taking a night for myself. And when I do take a night for myself, what I do during that time is not your business.”

Ryle has that look in his eye—the distant void that always took over right before he’d go too far.

My anger instantly turns to fear, and when Ryle can see that I’m backing away from him, he releases this sound of rage. A guttural, angry noise of frustration that reverberates in the room.

He leaves my apartment, slamming the front door shut behind him. I hear him yell the word fuck in the hallway.

I’m not sure which angle his rage is coming at me from. Is he mad I’m moving on? Is he mad my mother has Emmy? Or is it that I allow my mother overnights with her but I’m still not comfortable with Ryle having overnights? Maybe he’s angry about all three things presenting at once.

I blow out a calming breath, relieved he’s gone, but before I can think about what to do next, Ryle is opening my door again. He’s looking at me from the hallway with a very flat affect when he says, “Is it him?”

I can feel my heart catch in my throat when he asks that. He doesn’t say Atlas’s name, but who else could he be referring to? I don’t immediately deny it, which is enough of a confirmation for him.

Ryle looks up at the ceiling briefly, and then shakes his head. “So I had a right to be concerned about him the whole time?”

The entire past few minutes have been a roller coaster of emotions, but nothing has been as tumultuous as the question that just left his mouth. I take a few steps until I’m standing in my doorway, prepared to close the door on him as soon as I say my piece.

“If you truly believe that I would have been unfaithful to you, then go ahead and believe that. I don’t have the energy to keep convincing you otherwise. I’ve explained this to you before, so I’m not saying it again. I never would have left you for Atlas. I didn’t leave you for Atlas. I left you because I deserve to be treated better than the way I was treated by you.”

I go to close the door, but before I can take a step back, Ryle moves forward and pushes me until my back is flat against the open living room door. His eyes are filled with fury when he slides his left hand to the base of my throat, applying pressure as if he wants to hold me in place. He slaps his right palm flat against the door by my head, and it scares me so much, I immediately squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see what’s about to come next.

A huge wave of anxiety and fear rolls over me so intensely, I’m scared I might pass out. I can feel Ryle’s breath crashing against my cheek as it moves through his clenched teeth because his face is so close to mine. My heart is pounding so hard, there’s no way he can’t feel that fear beating against his palm with the way his hand is pressed against me. I want to scream, but I’m terrified if I make a noise, it’ll make him even angrier.

Several seconds pass between the moment Ryle pins me against the door and the moment he starts to realize what he’s done. What more he was likely about to do.

My eyes are still shut, but I can feel the remorse in the way he leans forward and presses his forehead against the door, right next to my head. He still has me caged in, but he’s released the pressure in the hand that was gripping my neck, and there’s a struggling sound coming from him, as if he’s trying not to cry.

It takes me back to the last night he hurt me. The apologies he was whispering as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

My heart is shattered, because Ryle hasn’t changed at all. As much as I hoped he had, and as much as I know he wanted to, he’s still the same man he’s always been. I somehow held on to a sliver of hope that he had become stronger for Emmy, but this is absolute confirmation that I’m making the right choices for her.

Ryle is clinging to me like I can make this better, and at one point in time I thought I could. He’s a broken man, but he isn’t broken because of me. He was broken before he met me. Sometimes people think if they love a broken person enough, they can be what finally repairs them, but the problem with that is the other person just ends up broken, too.

I can’t afford to allow anyone to break me anymore. I have a daughter I need to be whole for.

I gently press my hands against his chest and urge him back into the hallway. When I’m finally in a position where there’s enough space between us to shut the door, I close it and lock it, and then I immediately call my mother and tell her to put Emmy in the car and meet me at the park. I don’t want them to be at her house if Ryle still plans on showing up there.

After I end the call, I move with purpose through my apartment. If I stop and allow myself to get lost in what just happened, I might cry. I don’t have time to cry right now. I get dressed to go to the park because I need to be present for my daughter in every way that I can be.

Before I walk out the door, I grab the note Atlas wrote me and tuck it into my purse. I have a feeling his words are going to be the only bright spot to this day.

My premonition is coming true. I hear a loud clap of thunder as soon as I pull into the parking lot of the park. There’s a storm brewing to the east, and it’s heading this direction. Fitting.

It’s not raining yet, though, so I scan the playground until I spot my mother. She’s holding Emmy, and they’re going down the slide together. She hasn’t spotted me yet, so I take a moment to pull Atlas’s letter out of my purse. I’m still reeling from my interaction with Ryle. I’d like to read something that can hopefully put me in a better mood before I greet my daughter.

I flinch so hard, I almost rip the letter in two when someone bangs on my window. I gasp and glance up to see my mother standing next to my car. Emmy lights up when she sees me through the window, and that smile is all it takes to make me smile in return.

Well, her smile and the letter in my hand.

I fold it up and tuck it back into my purse. My mother opens my door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” I take Emmy from her, but my mother’s eyes are squinting with suspicion.

“You sounded scared when you asked me to meet you at the park.”

“It’s fine,” I say, wanting to brush it off. “I just didn’t want Ryle to pick her up today. He’s not in a very good mood, and he knew she was with you, so…”

I blow out a breath and walk over to the empty swing set. I take a seat in one of the swings and place Emmy on my lap, facing out. I kick the ground and give the swing a little push, watching as my mother takes a seat in the swing next to us.

“Lily.” My mother is looking at me with concern. “Just tell me what happened.”

I know Emerson is only one and can’t understand me yet, but it still makes me uncomfortable to talk about her father in her presence. I’m convinced babies and toddlers can sense moods, even if they can’t understand what you’re saying.

I attempt to explain my situation without mentioning names. “I’m sort of seeing someone?” That confession comes out like a question because we haven’t made it official, but I don’t think Atlas and I have to put a label on it to know where this is headed.

“Really? Who?”

I shake my head. I’m not about to tell her it’s Atlas, even though she probably wouldn’t know who I was talking about. She saw him twice when I was younger, and we never once spoke about him. And if she does remember him, I’m sure she doesn’t want to, considering her husband put him in the hospital.

There may come a day when I officially introduce Atlas to my mother, and I don’t want her to know him from my past or she might feel mortified.

“Just someone I met. It’s early. But…” I sigh and kick the ground again to give us another small push. “Ryle found out, and he isn’t happy.”

My mother winces, like she knows all too well what he isn’t happy implies.

“He came by this morning, and his reaction was scary. I panicked, thinking he was going to show up at your place to get her, so I didn’t want you to be home.”

“What did he do?”

I shake my head. “I’m not hurt. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen that side of him, so I’m a little shaken, but I’m okay.” I kiss Emmy on top of her head. I’m surprised to feel a tear skating down my cheek, so I quickly wipe it away. “I just don’t know what to do about his visits now. I almost wish something would have happened so I could have reported him this time. But then I feel like an awful mother for thinking that way about her father.”

My mother reaches over and squeezes my hand. It makes my swing come to a still, so I twist until we’re facing her. “No matter what you decide to do, you are not an awful mother. Precisely the opposite.” She releases my hand and grips the chains, staring at Emmy. “I admire the choices you’ve made for her. Sometimes I get sad that I couldn’t be that strong for you.”

I immediately shake my head. “You can’t compare our situations, Mom. I had a lot of support that enabled me to make the choice I made. You had no one.”

She gives me a sad, appreciative smile. Then she leans back and kicks at the ground to give herself a little shove. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy.” She glances over at me. “Who is he?”

I laugh. “No, you don’t. I’m not talking about him to you until he’s a for-sure thing.”

“He already is a for-sure thing,” she says. “I can see it in your smile.”

We both look up at the same time when it starts sprinkling. I tuck Emmy under my chin and we begin to head back toward the parking lot. My mother kisses Emmy before I put her in the car seat. “I love you. Gamma loves you, Emmy.”

“Gamma?” I ask. “Last week it was Nannie.”

“I still haven’t settled on one yet.” My mother kisses me on the cheek and then rushes to her car.

I climb into my car right when the bottom falls out of the sky. Huge drops of rain assault the windshield, the pavement, the hood of my car. They’re so fat, they sound like acorns hitting my car.

I sit for a moment, waiting to figure out where I’m going before I start the car. I don’t want to go home yet because Ryle might show back up. I definitely don’t want to go to Allysa’s because I’ll absolutely run into him in the apartment building where he lives.

I feel very protective of Emmy right now because Ryle has every right on paper to show up and take her from me for the day, but I’m not allowing my daughter around him on a day I know his fuse is nonexistent.

I look in my rearview mirror, and Emmy is just sitting peacefully, looking out the window at the rain. She has no idea the kind of chaos that surrounds her existence, because to her, I’m her entire existence. Every ounce of her trust is in me. She depends on me for everything, and she’s just sitting there happy and comfortable, as if I have it all under control.

I don’t feel like I have it under control, but the fact that she assumes I do is good enough for me. “Where do we go today, Emmy?”