Page 46 of The House That Held Her

45

I settle onto the couch next to Margot, careful not to startle her. Her gaze is locked on the TV, but I know she’s not really seeing it. The flickering light dances across her face, revealing the hollowness in her eyes. Ever since the trial, she’s been like this—slipping further and further away, drowning in her own thoughts. She hasn’t returned to work since they forced her out at CPS; not that they’d be calling her back, anyway. And leaving the house? Out of the question.

For me, though, this is a window of opportunity. If there’s ever been a time to nudge her toward something new, it’s now.

I lean in just enough so my shoulder grazes hers, my arm resting along the back of the couch. “You know,” I say softly, pitching my voice like I’m holding back a secret, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could use a change of scenery.”

Margot keeps her stare fixed on the screen. I sense her resistance in the way her jaw tenses. Change has never been easy for her, but I need her to believe this is all for her benefit.

“Is that so?” she answers after a beat, voice soft and brittle.

I ease closer, trying to match her tone—light, unthreatening. “Yeah, you know, maybe somewhere… different,” I say. “We’re not tied to Maryland anymore. I can work from anywhere these days. Plus, all these memories— they keep us stuck, Margot. Maybe a fresh start is exactly what we need.”

Her eyes flicker, a hint of life behind that vacant expression, as though she’s trying to piece something together.

I drop my voice, as if I’m letting her in on a personal confession. “We could go somewhere you can breathe again. Somewhere you won’t walk outside and see ghosts on every corner.” I let that hang for a moment, then offer a slight shrug. “We deserve it, don’t we? A chance at a fresh start.”

She stiffens, and I know she’s not convinced. But I don’t press too hard. Instead, I lean back, giving her a little space. “I hate seeing you like this, Margot. You deserve to feel alive again. I miss your laugh, I miss your smile, I miss– you.”

She’s quiet, eyes drifting. I stay silent too, letting her imagine what a new start could look like. I’m certain she’s picturing the last few months—losing Lila, her forced resignation, the trial. All those painful moments pulling her down.

After a long, tense pause, she murmurs, “Somewhere warm?”

I nod, a careful smile creeping across my face. “You bet. A place with a big garden, a lot of sun. A place that feels like a real beginning for us.”

Finally, she turns to look at me. Her gaze is weary, but at least she’s looking. “Are you serious right now, Nate? Is that something we can even afford?” she asks.

Her question hangs in the air. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. “It is,” I say, steadying my voice. “I think we’ve been through enough to deserve a shot at something new.”

She drifts off again, her expression torn. I wait, letting her process, then gently slide my hand over hers, thumb brushing across her knuckles. “Hey, no pressure,” I add, keeping my tone easy. “Just think about it. We can look around, see what’s out there. If we find the right place, great. If we don’t, we stay put.”

She bites her lip and nods slowly. That little gesture tells me my seed of an idea is taking root. A flicker of hope sparks in her eyes, and it mirrors the relief swirling through my chest. If she’s open to leaving, then we’re one step closer to the escape I need.

I let a quiet moment pass before I lean forward again, lowering my voice like I’m revealing a hidden gem. “I’ve actually done some research,” I admit, keeping it casual. “There’s this town down in Florida—Mount Dora. Supposed to be beautiful, near some lakes, warm winters. People say it’s peaceful. Exactly the kind of place where nobody knows us.”

Margot’s eyes sharpen with a touch of curiosity. “Florida?” she echoes. “That’s…far.”

“It is,” I concede, layering sympathy into my words. “But maybe that distance is what we need. So, we’re not confronted with everything that’s happened here. The trial. Lila…” I pause deliberately, letting the name hit her with its full weight.

She flinches like I thought she would, her face etched with pain. I can almost feel her resolve weakening at the memory.

“I’ve been looking at houses there,” I say carefully, trying not to sound too eager. “Old ones with character—places that can be shaped into something new. Somewhere we could call ours.”

Margot’s eyes grow wet, the memory of Lila and the trial clearly tangled up in her mind. “You think…we could really leave it all behind?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“We can,” I answer firmly. “We’ll take it slow—make sure it’s right. But I believe in us, and I believe in giving ourselves the space to heal.”

She glances down, fingers clutching mine. “Okay,” she whispers. “Maybe…maybe it’s worth looking into.”

That single word—okay—thrums through me like a bolt of electricity. I manage a gentle smile, nodding as if I haven’t already planned half of this in my head. “Yeah,” I say. “We’ll see what’s out there.”

As I lean back, I notice a faint spark in her expression that wasn’t there a minute ago. I don’t let her see how triumphant it makes me feel. Instead, I press a soft kiss to the back of her hand and let the quiet settle again.

In the silence, my thoughts churn with the future I’m already constructing: Hawthorn Manor in Mount Dora, the warm sun on our shoulders, far from the creditors and mistakes chasing me. Margot can be free of her grief. I can rebuild our lives, finally provide for her again. I just need a chance, just a little luck on my side. I can be a good husband again, I know it.

For now, I keep my satisfaction tucked inside. I just squeeze her hand a little tighter, matching her weary gaze with a smile. But in my mind, I’m already gone, imagining the day we’ll pack our life into boxes and drive south to Florida, leaving every specter of this place in our rearview mirror.