Page 21 of Secret Triplets, Second Chances

LARA

T he drive home is a blur, and I think, distantly, that maybe I should have called someone to give me a ride, or got a taxi home. But the thought of leaving my car at Jake’s — or telling someone about this whole thing — makes my stomach twist, so I keep driving.

Outside the café, a stray cat lounges around the door, looking up at me with needy eyes. My mom will fill a cat bowl with food for them in the morning, but right now I don’t have time, so I step past him and make the climb up the stairs to the apartment.

I can’t stop myself from thinking about climbing the stairs all those years ago with Jake, hands shaking as we took our clothes off, fumbling and laughing as we tried to figure things out. The way he held me like I was the most precious thing in his life.

When I unlock the door, I’m already thinking about getting a glass of wine and sitting in the bathtub until I feel better and I can figure out what to do about this whole situation.

“Lara?”

I stop sobbing long enough only to realize Zachery is standing in the kitchen, holding onto the back of a breakfast bar stool to keep it from falling over, like he stood up fast when he heard the key latch turning. His eyes are wide, and he looks me up and down with fear.

“What is it? Are the kids okay?”

“They—” I choke, then nod, not wanting him to think anything has happened to the triplets. He relaxes a bit, then takes a step forward.

He looks tired, worn out, and for the briefest moment, I wonder if he’s okay. It hasn’t been that long since he left the note about his safari guide job. Was he fired? Did something really bad happen?

But I don’t have the energy to ask, and Zachery speaks before I can.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”

The last time I cried like this in front of him, I had been working on the maternity ward when a woman lost one of her twins. The thought of it happening to me when I was giving birth to the triplets almost made me sick in the delivery room.

“No—” I stop again, unable to speak, and Zachery comes over, putting his arm around me and pulling me to him, until I’m cradled in his chest and crying even harder.

He doesn’t smell great, honestly. A little sweaty, barely covered with a mist of cologne, but I hug him back, great sobs moving through me like minor earthquakes.

It only gets worse when I think about the man I wish was actually holding me right now. When I think about the look on Jake’s face, his blatant grief over the loss of time with the triplets...

That face made me feel like the worst person in the world. Like it was completely obvious that not telling him had been the wrong choice. Like I was doing it on purpose, maliciously, only wanting to hurt him.

When I finally calm down, Zachery pulls away from me and fetches some tissues, handing them to me and throwing them away until I’m cleaned up and calm enough to tell him what happened.

“Oh, fuck ,” he says, shaking his head. “I had no idea that Jake was even back in town.”

“I texted you,” I say weakly, knowing that Zachery moves around so much that his cell service is tenuous at best.

He makes a face. “I didn’t upgrade my phone card for Africa.”

“It’s okay,” I mutter, even though deep down, it’s not. It’s hard to have a best friend who’s only in town every once in a while. A best friend that my kids love and hardly ever get to see.

A best friend who can’t even be bothered to answer my texts when I need him.

“So, what do you think is going to happen now? Do you think Jake will take you to court?”

I freeze, a tissue halfway to my nose. “Take me to court, what do you mean?”

Zachery’s eyebrows raise, and I notice that he did pull the trigger and go for purple with his hair. He brushes it out of his face as he says, “For custody? Of the kids?”

The thought of that — of someone trying to take my kids from me, even if it’s just Jake trying to get some time with them — sends me into sobs all over again, the panic flashing in my chest like a strobe light.

Jake would never do that. I know that, and yet, the fear is as real for me now as the monsters the kids always cry about are for them. Not logical, but scary, nonetheless.

“He- he couldn’t do that, could he?”

“I don’t know, maybe not!” Zachery puts his hands up and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I realize that wasn’t the right thing to say at this particular moment.”

“Yeah, you think?”

He pulls his head back, making a face at me. “Okay, Lara. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“Well, maybe try being here for me!”

“I am here!”

“But not really, not ever!”

I realize this is going off script, that I’m veering into the dangerous territory of bringing things up that I shouldn’t. There’s no point having this argument while I’m upset about something else.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Zachery asks, lowering his hands slowly and taking a step back from me.

“Nothing.”

“No, Lara, you started it. Say what you need to say.” He says this like a challenge, and if it was any other day, I wouldn’t rise to it. Zachery and I never fight, have never fought, and I realize in this moment that it’s because I’ve never thrown a fit about the way he treats me.

“You’re never really here ,” I say, knowing even as the words are coming out of my mouth that I’m never going to be able to put them back. “You use my place like a hotel, in and out. Because Wildfern Ridge isn’t good enough for you.”

“You know I’ve never wanted to stay here, Lara,” he says, crossing his arms. “Just because that’s what you want doesn’t mean that’s what everyone is going to do.”

“I know that. But it’s not just— it’s like that party. You made me come along with you, then you left me there alone to go off with some guy?—”

“Are you serious? You’re bringing up a party from high school?

” I realize Zachery is grabbing his duffel bag from the couch and I open my mouth to stop him, but I don’t know how.

“The only party you ever came to? Also, I feel like I should point out the fact that if you didn’t go to that party, you wouldn’t have the triplets. So maybe I’m not some evil witch.”

“I never said you were evil?—”

“You love it here, and that’s fine. But you can’t be pissed at the people who don’t. Especially when not all of us really feel like Wildfern Ridge even wants us.” He pauses at the door, breathing hard, then looks back at me. “And don’t worry. I won’t be using your place as a hotel anymore.”

With that, he turns and lets the door slam shut behind him, and the first sob is climbing up my throat before I have a chance to stop it. Hands shaking, I drop down onto the couch and let myself cry again.

I’m thinking about Jake, about what I did to him. About the impossible situation I was in as a teen, and how I still don’t know what I would choose if I had to go back and do it all over again.

About Zachery and how I only half-meant the things I said to him. How I didn’t want him to leave, and now I feel more alone than ever.

Sliding down onto the floor, I pull my phone from my pocket and bring up the photos of the triplets - the same ones I’d shown Jake earlier, scrolling through snapshots of their lives that would never add up to the years he missed with them.

I study their little faces and think about their tiny bodies in bed at my parents’ house.

I wonder which book my mom read to them before they fell asleep.

I think about being a little girl in that house, what it was like to know that I could fall and my parents would always catch me, and I let myself cry more.

Tomorrow, I’m going to have to start working on fixing everything I’ve managed to destroy.

But for now, I grab a blanket from the couch, curl up on the floor, and feel sorry for myself.