Page 169 of The Havenport Collection

Maggie

“ Y ou just got out of his car and haven’t talked since?

” Cece asked, spooning ice cream into her mouth.

She was lounging in a hideous yellow floral armchair that I knew from experience was insanely comfortable.

As kids, we would fight over that chair because sitting in it was like being hugged by a cloud.

When I didn’t respond, she rolled her eyes. “You want the good chair, don’t you?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Fine. Because you’re having a personal crisis, I’ll allow it.”

She got up and reclined on the couch while I settled into the chair with my massive bowl of ice cream.

I had come over here under the pretense of wrapping Christmas gifts.

Years ago, I started storing presents at my mom’s house—my kids were nosy little buggers.

Cece and I would come over to bake cookies with Mom and wrap gifts.

But tonight, the pile of Amazon boxes sat in the corner untouched while my mother and sister grilled me on the state of my marriage.

“We’ve texted and exchanged a few words at the house in front of the kids. But no, we haven’t really talked since he dropped me off on Monday.”

Cece’s eyes went soft and she gave me a small smile. “And so what’s the plan?”

I wiggled, sinking deeper into the chair, and shoveled a massive scoop of coffee chip into my mouth to avoid answering.

The telltale sound of clacking had me spinning toward my mother.

“Are you texting?” I asked.

She giggled and smirked at her phone. “And what if I am?”

“Who are you talking to?” I demanded.

“Richard.”

“Chief Wilson?”

“Yes. We’re friends,” she said with a saucy wink.

“I told you to stay away from him. I don’t like the way he looks at you,” I huffed, only realizing after the words left my mouth how petulant they sounded.

My mother put her phone down and crossed the room, arms crossed, until she stood in front of me. “Excuse me? Last time I checked, I’m an adult and can choose who I spend my time with, Margaret.”

“Yeah, Mags,” Cece added, “take it easy on her. It’s about time she dated.”

“It’s been more than twenty years, sweetie.”

My stomach churned, but. Not because of the ice cream. How could she do this? She and Dad had loved each other so much. “I know how long it’s been,” I whispered. She had been perfectly happy for the last two decades. Why was she dating now?

“You don’t need to date, Mom,” I said.

“Hold up,” Cece said, her spoon in the air in front of her. “Mom can do whatever she wants. She raised us alone and worked her ass off. She deserves to live her best life.”

I scowled at my sister. “Mom, he’s not good enough for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve known him my whole life.”

“As police chief and a baseball coach, yes, but not as the person he is outside of those titles. He lost his wife a few years ago and has been struggling. It’s been nice to have a friend who has lived through this experience.”

“Stop it, Mother. You sound ridiculous.”

My mother’s sweet, kind face morphed into a mask of anger. I knew I had gone too far, then, but I couldn’t stop pushing.

“Mrs. Thompson is recently widowed, so hang out with her.”

“I do, for your information. But I am not having this discussion with you right now. You’re being cruel and judgmental, and I do not appreciate it.”

I threw my hands up and went back to my ice cream. I couldn’t win when they ganged up on me like this.

“Why are you attacking Mom?” Cece asked softly. “She deserves to be happy. What’s really going on?”

“I’m so sick of your love conquers all bullshit, Cece,” I said. “Please just back off.”

“Margaret, I don’t appreciate your tone. You’re having a hard time, and your sister and I are here to support you. But lashing out isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Since when do you blame other people for your problems?” Cece asked.

She was right. Shit. This wasn’t me. I loved my mom and my sister unconditionally. I needed to check myself.

“I loved your father. I still do. But I need to live my life. You girls are grown, I’m retired, and I still have a lot of life left in me. I like Richard a lot, and I enjoy spending time with him. If you can’t be happy for me and support me, then you’re not the woman I raised.”

I hung my head in shame. God, I was an asshole.

Heaving myself out of the gaudy yellow chair, I got to my feet and wrapped my arms around her. “Sorry, Mom,” I said, tears falling freely. “I love you.”

Cece set her bowl on the coffee table and joined our group hug. She and my mom held me while I sobbed. I cried because I missed my dad. I missed my husband. And I missed the person I used to be.

After my cathartic bout of tears, I felt ready to be reasonable.

Mom made a pot of tea, and once we were curled up with our mugs, she brought the subject around to my current quandary. “Now tell us what on earth is going on. We kind of assumed the weekend away would be good for you.”

“It was. It was really good. We talked a lot. And worked out some things. I have a lot more clarity than I’ve had in years.”

“Okay…”

“But I was also hit with a very shitty realization—it’s me. I’m the problem. Josh has spent the last year growing and changing and getting his shit together. It’s amazing, and I’m so proud of him.”

“But?”

“But I’m not there yet. He’s evolved without me. I’m stuck and I’m scared. I can’t get out of my own way right now.”

“You’re being obtuse.”

“I can’t do it again. I can’t lose him if things fall apart.”

“But you’re actively working on things together.”

“He moved out, and everything crashed. I had to pick up the pieces for myself and my kids. Confront what our marriage had become and the reality of living without him.” Fat tears were rolling down my cheeks and soaking my sweatshirt.

Everything hurt so much without Josh. “So the thought of taking him back, of repairing things, terrifies me. Because If I lose him again, it will be for good, and I don’t think I can survive that. ”

My mother wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, darling. Of course you’re scared.

Remember when you got pregnant with Ava?

You sat in this chair, eating ice cream and sobbing.

You were so terrified. You worried you had ruined your life, that you’d be a terrible mother.

And you worried you couldn’t juggle a child and your career. ”

She was right. I’d felt all those emotions then. Blowing my nose in the tissue she offered me, I did my best to pull myself together and waited for her to continue.

“But you know what? You did it. Because you learned and you grew. You’ve never met a challenge you didn’t overcome.”

“You went to grad school when Ava was a toddler,” Cece added. “And graduated first in your class.”

My mother rubbed my back in soothing circles, much like she had when I was a child.

Soaking in the comfort, I leaned into her and let the tears flow.

I had cried more in the past week than I had in the past year, and it felt good.

Cleansing. Like I was releasing all the sadness and anger and disappointment I’d been holding to so tightly.

It was what I had to do if I wanted to have a real future with Josh.

I had spent most of my life carefully guarding my emotions, but now I was wearing my heart on my sleeve.

“This is terrifying. Of course it is. But you’re a warrior, Maggie. We all are; the three of us. We lost your father, and it scarred us each in different ways. But Leary women do not give up. We don’t throw in the towel, and we don’t play it safe.” She looked at Cece and raised an eyebrow.

My sister nodded and gave me an encouraging smile. “We do not. We’re fierce and strong and take risks.”

“You just have to let yourself do it. Take the leap.”

“I want to,” I said. “But I’m not sure how. Josh is avoiding me, and I don’t know when I’ll have the opportunity to say all the things I need to say.”

My mother kissed the top of my head. “The right time will present itself. Have faith.”

I went home and sat in the dark, gaze locked on our Christmas tree.

It was all lit up, sparkling and optimistic.

Slowly, I rounded it, inspecting each ornament.

The tree was a standing embodiment of the last sixteen years.

Photos of us skiing, graduating, buying our first home.

Baby’s first Christmas ornaments for both kids.

Paper chains and wonky glitter balls made by the kids in preschool.

Ornaments from trips to Maine, Florida, and Hawaii.

I was flooded with memories, and I sat on the floor, taking in every detail. All the memories and milestones. And I knew I was ready.

It would be hard, and it would take work.

Because the person I was most angry with was myself.

Day after day, year after year, I’d chosen not to fight for my marriage.

I had ignored my intuition, ignored my husband, and pretended everything was fine.

My obsession with perfection and conflict avoidance had widened the rift between us.

Josh had taken responsibility. He was doing the work. It was time for me to do the same.

I had to forgive myself. I had to wipe the slate clean and truly start over. Own my mistakes and commit to doing better. It was the only way to piece our family back together.

Now I had to work up the nerve to talk to him.

Lately, he was always around, inserting himself into everything, but he had been lying low since our return from the mountains.

Texting me to coordinate the kids’ schedule and staying in the car when he dropped them off.

The holidays were upon us, which meant the next few weeks would be insanely busy.

Could I make him understand? I had pushed him away again.

How many more times would he be willing to try?