Page 10 of Right the Wrongs (Broken Vows #5)

I should be able to. I am madly in love with my husband.

Whenever I think about my life before finding Liam cheating, I try and remember what made me ever think that was love.

This isn’t me trying to write Liam out of my history either.

I believed wholeheartedly that I loved him at the time.

Now that I’ve loved and been loved in return, I see it for what it was.

Liam was my high school sweetheart. He was my first everything, and had we parted ways after I graduated, I think I may have looked back on our time together fondly.

We didn’t let things end naturally, though.

We pushed ahead and forced our relationship long past its expiration date.

Now we’re all locked into a toxic holding pattern. Charlie is taking care of Natalie, although I think my aunt has been helping him a lot. Griffin goes over to visit at least a couple of times a week.

It’s not a lot of time, really, but for a few hours a couple of times every week, Griffin is almost an hour away while I am going stir crazy at home.

Our little girl is only a few weeks from making her appearance now, which has pretty much sidelined me from everything.

Not because my doctor said I need to stop working, but because Griffin does a pretty good impersonation of a mother hen.

This is another one of those days that I find myself pacing the floors of our small rental house. The new shop location is already making a profit, and soon we’ll have the café open as well. It already would be, but Griffin slowed things down until I’m ready to go back to work. He has a point.

The building he bought was a large tire store with a garage attached to do work on things like brakes and alignment.

Hale and Storm Automotive doesn’t keep tires in stock.

Instead, we’ve been working on turning the display floor into a café.

That still leaves a large amount of real estate to fill up.

Griffin is working his ass off to turn it into an office and nursery so that we can be together all day, and our princess doesn’t ever have to go to daycare.

That leaves me with nowhere to go right now.

I don’t need to get groceries, because Griffin insists on doing it.

The only time that I leave the house is to go to one of my doctor’s checkups.

I don’t even drive anymore because my stomach doesn’t really fit behind the steering wheel in either my car or Griffin’s truck.

I could do it if I absolutely had to, but I’d only do it if I were in danger, because a small accident could have tragic consequences for my baby.

My phone rings, and I rush to answer it, sure it’s Griffin. “Hey, daddy?—”

“Blech, I could go my entire life without ever hearing you say that again,” Liam complains.

I exhale loudly into the phone and rub my temple. Amazing, just the sound of his voice makes my head throb in pain. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for my dad. Can you put him on the phone?”

“Why didn’t you call him? He does have his own phone, you know,” I reply.

“Where is it, in your purse next to his balls? Just put him on the phone, Wren, I don’t have time for your bullshit today.”

“You don’t have time for my bullshit? I’m at home alone, about five minutes away from my due date, because you are too big of a fuck up to take care of your own child. It was one thing when you fucked up our relationship, but she’s a baby, Liam.”

There’s a long silence on the other end. I pull the phone away from my face to see if he’s still on the phone. I hear his voice as I bring it back to my ear. “My daughter is none of your business. You divorced me, remember? Don’t concern yourself with my child.”

“You left me first, so stop throwing that in my face. And furthermore, I would love to not have to stand up for the child of my ex-best friend and ex-husband, but you are making it my business when my husband feels the need to go check on her frequently, leaving me alone.”

“Whatever, I am not in the mood to go ten rounds with you right now. I just wanted to check in with him and find out how my little girl is,” Liam says, his voice quiet at the end.

“I haven’t seen her since that day at the hospital, but Griff tells me that she’s fine. She’d be doing better if you got your life together and took responsibility for her,” I tell him.

“How do I do that, Wren? Tell me, because I want to be the man she deserves. It’s harder to do without you here.”

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to do that. You don’t want me in your life, and I don’t want to be there.

What you want is for me to pick up your broken pieces and hold you together again.

You never had to figure out how to be an adult on your own.

I can’t be that person for you anymore. I love your dad, and he loves me. ”

“I knew talking to you would be pointless. You were my friend once. It doesn’t all have to be about the breakdown of our marriage.”

I can feel my blood pressure rising the longer this conversation goes on. “I was your friend. I’m not sure you were ever mine, but I suppose we can at least try and be friendly. I’m not sure it can ever be more than that.”

“So we fake it in front of others,” he starts.

“And ignore each other the rest of the time,” I finish.

“Then, before we let the ice settle between us, help me one last time,” he begs.

“There’s never one last time, that’s the problem,” I exhale. “Whatever, lay it on me. What do you need now?”

“Just—What do I do?” he asks.

“Go back to rehab, and really do it this time. Face all the dark and ugly parts that you would rather drown in alcohol, and deal with them this time. Then you need to make a vow to do that day in and day out. Even on the days you don’t think you can.”

“That’s all, huh? Just face every demon I have. No biggie,” he scoffs.

“There’s a reason they’re called steps, Liam. You have to take them one at a time.”

“You sound like you’ve been going to meetings,” he states.

“Well, I was married to an alcoholic. It kinda sucked, so I went to some meetings. It helped. I prefer counseling, but I liked the community of it. It helped knowing I wasn’t alone.”

“So, this whole one day at a time thing, huh?”

“It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” I ask him.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but could you give me a ride? I can’t get a hold of my dad, and I’d kinda like to surprise him by getting my shit together.”

“I understand all of that, but why am I the one who needs to give you a ride?” I ask.

“Because I’m standing in front of a bar here in Centralia. Donovan won’t serve me in Harriston anymore. I’m afraid if I get in my car, I won’t make it to anywhere good.”

I grab my keys off the entry table. This isn’t what I had planned for the day, but I’ve learned to stop making those when I ended up pregnant with my ex-father-in-law’s baby. Life, at least mine, refuses to follow a set path.

The drive to Sunset Lakes Treatment Center is an hour round trip from the bar where I pick up Liam. We don’t really talk on the ride there. I’m sure there are still things that we could say to each other, but what is the point?

Me telling him the myriad of ways he’s hurt me won’t make that hurt disappear, and it certainly won’t help him right now. There aren’t other people around, so we don’t need to pretend to be friendlier than we are.

I pull my generic-looking sedan in front of the registration building.

We stopped briefly at a store on the way for him to pick up the essentials he needed, some clothing, and toiletries.

He also called ahead and secured a place there.

I stepped in again there and loaned him the money he needed for the program.

Once again, I’m spending my parents’ insurance money on him, but hopefully, he will get more use out of this than he did the Mustang I had bought him when we were married.

He stops and looks down at the plastic bag in his hand. “Thanks for this, Wren. I know I don’t deserve it. I will pay you back for this.”

I nod. I’m not sure what to say back, so I settle on, “Just get better for yourself and for Natalie. Money is just a tool.”

He gets out of the car and walks into the building. This isn’t some sad goodbye. I don’t even wait for him to go through the doorway before I slip the car into drive and leave.

Halfway home, I start to feel weird. I have to pull off on the first exit and stop at a gas station.

“Hooo,” I blow out a breath and rub the side of my suddenly rock-hard stomach. I take a few slow, deep breaths and exhale.

“Fuck, this hurts worse than my birthing instructor said it would. ‘Pregnancy is beautiful,’ my ass.” I look down at my stomach as the pain backs off a bit. I continue to try the breathing because it’s at least keeping me calm. “I think I’d better call your daddy, little girl.”

I pull up his number from contacts and call him.

It rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer.

Eventually, his voicemail kicks on, but I end the call.

I’m not going to waste my time leaving a message he isn’t going to listen to.

As soon as he sees he missed my call, he’s going to immediately call me without stopping to see if I left him a message.

When the pain backs off, I set out again for home. I keep telling myself over and over that it’s only another fifteen minutes. That quarter of an hour is the longest of my life.