It Starts with Us: a Novel Read online

  That may have been more because I put up less of a fight than he did. My lawyer was very straightforward when I said I wanted sole custody. Unless I was willing to drag the dirtiest parts of our rock bottom into a courtroom, there wasn’t much I could do to prevent Ryle from getting visits with Emerson. And even if I were to bring up the domestic violence, my lawyer said it’s very rare that a willing, successful father without a record, who provides financial support, would have any sort of rights removed.

  I was looking at two options. I could choose to press charges and drag this through the courts, only to be met with a very possible joint custody arrangement. Or I could attempt to work an agreement out with Ryle that would satisfy us both, while preserving our coparenting relationship.

  I guess you could say we came to a compromise, even though there isn’t an agreement in the world that would make me feel comfortable with sending my daughter off with someone I know possesses a temper. But all I can do is choose the lesser of two evils when it comes to custody and hope that Emmy never sees that side of him.

  I want Emmy to bond with her father. I’ve never wanted to keep her from him. I just want to ensure she’s safe, which is why I begged Ryle to agree to day visits for the first couple of years. I never told him outright it’s because I don’t know that I fully trust him with her. I think I might have blamed it on my breastfeeding situation and the fact that he’s on call all the time, but deep down I’m sure he knows why I’ve never wanted her to stay with him overnight.

  The past abuse is something we don’t talk about. We talk about Emmy, we talk about work, we plaster on smiles when we’re in the presence of our daughter. Sometimes it feels forced and fake, at least on my end, but it’s better than what this could have been had I taken him to court and lost. I’ll fake a smile until she’s eighteen if it means I don’t have to share custody and potentially expose my daughter to the worst parts of her father on a more regular basis.

  It’s been working out okay so far, if you don’t count the occasional gaslighting and unwanted flirtation from him. As clear as I’ve made my feelings during this divorce, he still has hope for us. He says things sometimes that indicate he hasn’t fully let go of the idea of us. I fear that a huge part of Ryle’s cooperation rests on the notion that he’ll eventually win me back if he’s good enough for long enough. He has it in his head that I’ll soften over time.

  But life isn’t going to happen his way, Ellen. I’m ultimately going to move on, and if I’m being honest, I hope I end up moving on in Atlas’s direction. It’s too soon to know if that’s a possibility, but I know for a fact I’ll never move back in Ryle’s direction, no matter how much time passes.

  It’s been almost a year since I asked Ryle for the divorce, but it’s been almost nineteen months since the fight that ultimately caused our separation. Which means I’ve been single for over a year and a half.

  A year and a half of separation between potential relationships seems like plenty of time, and maybe it would be if it were anyone other than Atlas. But how can I possibly make this work? What if I text Atlas and he invites me to lunch? And then lunch goes wonderful, which I’m sure it would, and lunch leads to dinner? And dinner leads to us falling right back into step with where we left off when we were younger? And then we’re both happy and we fall back in love and he becomes a permanent part of my life?

  I know it sounds like I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s Atlas we’re talking about here. Unless he had a personality transplant, I think you and I both know how easy Atlas is for me to love, Ellen. That’s why I’m so hesitant, because I’m scared it will work out.

  And if it works out, how will Ryle feel about my new relationship? Emerson is almost a year old, and we’ve gone this whole year without too much drama, but I know that’s because we’ve found a good flow that nothing has interrupted. So why does it feel like any mention of Atlas will cause a tsunami?

  Not that Ryle deserves the concern I’m currently feeling over this situation, but he has the potential to make my dating life a living hell. Why does Ryle still occupy an entire wall in my many layers of thoughts? That’s what it feels like—as if these wonderful things happen, but as they start to sink in, they eventually reach a part of me that is still making decisions based on Ryle and his potential reactions.

  His reactions are what I fear the most. I want to hope that he wouldn’t be jealous, but he will be. If I start dating Atlas, he’ll make it difficult for everyone. Even though I know divorce was the right choice, there are still consequences to that choice. And one of those consequences is that Ryle will always look at Atlas like he’s the thing that broke up our marriage.

  Ryle is the father of my daughter. No matter what man comes and goes in my life from this point forward, Ryle is the one constant that I’ll always have to appease if I want the most peaceful experience for my daughter. And if Atlas Corrigan is back in my life—Ryle will never be appeased.

  I wish you could tell me what decision to make. Do I sacrifice what I know will make me happy for the sake of avoiding the inevitable disruption Atlas’s presence would cause?

  Or will I always have an Atlas-shaped hole in my heart unless I allow him to fill it?

  He’s expecting me to text him, but I think I need more time to process this. I don’t even know what to say to him. I don’t know what to do.

  I’ll let you know if I figure it out.

  Lily

  Chapter Three Atlas

  “ ‘We finally reached the shore’?” Theo says. “You actually said that to her? Out loud?”

  I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “We bonded over Finding Nemo when we were younger.”

  “You quoted a cartoon.” Theo’s head roll is dramatic. “And it didn’t work. It’s been over eight hours since you ran into her, and she still hasn’t texted you.”

  “Maybe she got busy.”

  “Or maybe you came on too strong,” Theo says, leaning forward. He clasps his hands between his knees and refocuses. “Okay, so what happened after you said all the cheesy lines?”

  He’s brutal. “Nothing. We both had to get to work. I asked if she still had my number, and she said she had it memorized, and then we said good—”

  “Hold up,” Theo interrupts. “She has your number memorized?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Okay.” He looks hopeful. “This means something. No one memorizes numbers anymore.”

  I was thinking the same thing, but I also wondered if she memorized my number for other reasons. Back when I wrote it down and put it in her phone case, it was for an emergency. Maybe part of her feared the day she’d need it, so she memorized it for reasons that had nothing to do with me.

  “So, what do I do? Text her? Call her? Wait until she reaches out to me?”

  “It’s been eight hours, Atlas. Calm down.”

  His advice is giving me whiplash. “Two minutes ago, you acted like eight hours without a text was too long. Now you’re telling me to calm down?”

  Theo shrugs and then kicks my desk to make his chair spin. “I’m twelve. I don’t even have a phone yet, and you want my opinion on texting etiquette?”

  It surprises me that he doesn’t have a phone yet. Brad doesn’t seem like he would be a strict father. “Why don’t you have a phone?”

  “Dad says I can have one when I turn thirteen. Two more months,” he says wistfully.

  Theo has been coming to the restaurant a couple of days a week after school since Brad’s promotion six months ago. Theo told me he wanted to be a therapist when he grows up, so I let him practice on me. At first, the talks we would have were intended for his benefit. But lately, I feel like I’m the one benefiting.

  Brad peeks his head into my office in search of his son. “Let’s go. Atlas has work to do.” He motions for Theo to stand up, but Theo just keeps spinning in my desk chair.

  “Atlas is the one who called me in here. He needed advice.”

  “I’ll never understand whatever this is,” Brad says, pointing between me and Theo. “What advice do you get from my son? How to avoid your chores and win at Minecraft?”

  Theo stands up and stretches his arms over his head. “Girls, actually. And winning isn’t the point of Minecraft, Dad. It’s more of a sandbox game.” Theo looks over his shoulder at me as he’s leaving my office. “Just text her.” He says that like it’s the obvious solution. Maybe it is.

  Brad yanks him away from the door.

  I settle back into my desk chair and stare at my blank phone screen. Maybe she memorized the wrong number.

  I open her contact and hesitate. Theo could be right. I could have come on too strong this morning. We didn’t say much when we ran into each other, but what we did say had meaning and intent. Maybe that scared her.

  Or… maybe I’m right and she memorized the wrong number.

  My fingers hover over my phone’s keyboard. I want to text her, but I don’t want to pressure her. However, she and I both know our lives would have turned out so different if I hadn’t made so many missteps with her in the past.

  I spent years making excuses for why my life wasn’t good enough for her to be a part of it, but Lily always fit. She was a perfect fit. I refuse to let her walk away this time without a little more effort on my part. I’ll start with making sure she has my correct number.

  It was good seeing you today, Lily.

  I wait to see if she’s going to text me back. When I see the three dots pop up, I hold my breath in anticipation.

  You too.

  I stare at her response for way too long, hoping it’ll be accompanied by another text. But it isn’t. That’s all I’m getting.

  It’s only two words, but I can read between the lines.

  I sigh in defeat and drop my phone onto my desk.

  Chapter Four Lily

  Mine and Ryle’s situation has been an unconventional one since Emerson was born. I don’t think many couples file divorce papers at the same time they sign their newborn’s birth certificate.

  As much as I was disappointed in Ryle for being the thing that forced me to have to make the decision to end our marriage, I didn’t want to prevent him from bonding with our daughter. I cooperate with him as much as I can since his schedule is so hectic. I sometimes even take her to his work to visit him on his lunch break.

  He’s also had a key to my place since before Emerson was born. I only gave it to him because I lived alone and was afraid I’d go into labor and he’d need access to the apartment. But he never gave the key back after her birth, even though I’ve been meaning to ask him for it. He sometimes uses it on the rare occasions he has a late surgery and has extra time to spend with Emmy in the mornings after I head to work. That’s why I haven’t asked for it back. But lately, he’s been using the key to bring Emmy home.

  He texted me just before I closed the shop earlier and told me Emmy was tired, so he was taking her to my place to put her to bed. The frequency he’s been using the key lately is making me wonder if Emmy is the only one he’s trying to spend more time with.

  My front door is unlocked when I finally make it to my apartment. Ryle is in the kitchen. He glances up at me when he hears the front door shut.

  “I grabbed dinner,” he says, holding up a bag from my favorite Thai place. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

  I don’t like this. He’s been making himself more and more comfortable here. But I’m emotionally drained from the day already, so I shake my head and decide to confront the issue at a different time. “I haven’t. Thank you.” I set my purse on the table and pass the kitchen, heading for Emmy’s room.

  “I just laid her down,” he warns.

  I pause right outside her door and press my ear to it. It’s quiet, so I back away from the door and head into the kitchen without waking her.

  I feel awful about my short response to Atlas earlier, but this interaction with Ryle is confirming all my concerns. How am I supposed to start something with someone new when my ex still brings me dinner and has a key to my apartment?

  I need to set firm boundaries with Ryle before I can even begin to entertain the idea of Atlas.

  Ryle chooses a bottle of red wine from my tabletop wine rack. “Mind if I open this?”

  I shrug as I spoon pad thai onto my plate. “Go ahead, but I don’t want any.”

  Ryle puts the bottle back and opts for a glass of tea. I grab a water out of the fridge, and we both take a seat at the table.

  “How was she today?” I ask him.

  “A little cranky, but I had a lot of errands to run. I think she just got tired of going in and out of the car seat. She was better when we went over to Allysa’s.”

  “When’s your next day off?” I ask him.

  “Not sure. I’ll let you know.” He reaches forward and uses his thumb to wipe something off my cheek. I flinch a little, but he doesn’t notice. Or maybe he pretends not to. I’m not sure if he realizes the reaction I have anytime his hand comes near me is a negative one. Knowing Ryle, he probably thinks I flinched because I felt a spark.

  After Emmy was born, there were moments here and there when I would feel a spark between us. He’d do or say something sweet, or he’d be holding Emmy while he sang to her, and I would feel that familiar desire for him bubbling up inside of me. But I somehow found it within me to pull myself out of the moment every time. It only takes one bad memory to immediately dull any fleeting feelings I have in his presence.

  It’s been a long, bumpy road, but those feelings are finally nonexistent.

  I attribute that to the list I wrote of all the reasons why I chose to divorce him. Sometimes, after he leaves, I go to my bedroom and read it to reiterate that this arrangement is the best one for all of us.

  Well. Maybe not this exact arrangement. I’d still like my key returned to me.

  I’m about to take another bite of noodles when I hear a muffled ping come from my purse across the table. I drop my fork and quickly reach for my phone before Ryle does. Not that he would read my texts, but the last thing I want right now is for him to even try to be polite by handing me my phone. He might see that the text is from Atlas, and I’m not prepared for the storm that would bring.

  The text isn’t from Atlas, though. It’s from my mother. She’s sending pics of Emmy she took earlier this week. I set the phone down and pick up my fork, but Ryle is staring at me.

  “It was my mother,” I say. I don’t know why I even say that. I don’t owe him an explanation, but I don’t like the way he’s staring at me.

  “Who were you hoping it would be? You practically lunged across the table for your phone.”

  “No one.” I take a drink. He’s still staring. I have no idea how well Ryle can read me, but it looks like he knows I’m lying.

  He spins his fork in his noodles and looks down at his plate with a hardened jaw. “Are you seeing someone?” There’s an edge to his voice now.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  “Not saying it is my business. Just having a casual conversation.”

  I don’t respond to that because it’s a lie. Any recently divorced husband asking his ex-wife if she’s seeing someone is making anything but casual conversation.

  “I do think we need to have a more serious conversation at some point about dating,” he says. “Before either of us brings other people around Emerson. Maybe lay some ground rules.”

  I nod. “I think we need to lay ground rules for a lot more than just that.”

  His eyes narrow. “Like what?”

  “Your access to my apartment.” I swallow. “I’d like my key back.”

  Ryle stares stoically before he responds. Then he wipes his mouth and says, “I can’t put my daughter to bed?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “You know my schedule is crazy, Lily. I hardly get to see her as it is.”

  “I’m not saying I want you to see her any less. I just want my key back. I value my privacy.”

  Ryle’s expression is tight. He’s upset with me. I knew he would be, but he’s making this into more than it is. It has nothing to do with how much I want him to see Emmy. I just don’t want him having easy access to my apartment. I moved out and divorced him for a reason.

  It’s not going to be a huge change, but it’s one that needs to happen, or we’ll be stuck in this unhealthy routine forever.

  “I’ll just start keeping her overnight, then.” He says it with such conviction while eyeing me for a reaction. I know he can feel the discomfort I’m suddenly drowning in.

  I keep my voice calm. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  Ryle drops his fork on his plate with a thud. “Maybe we need to modify the custody arrangement.”

  Those words infuriate me, but I somehow prevent my rage from boiling over. I stand and pick up my plate. “Really, Ryle? I ask for the key to my apartment back and you threaten me with court?”

  We agreed to this arrangement, but he’s acting like that was for my benefit rather than his. He knows I could have taken him to court for sole custody after everything he put me through. Hell, I never even had him arrested. He should be grateful I’ve been as generous as I have.

  When I get to the kitchen, I set down my plate and grip the edges of the counter, allowing my head to drop between my shoulders. Calm down, Lily. He’s just reacting.

  I hear Ryle sigh regretfully, and then he follows me into the kitchen. He leans against the counter while I rinse my plate. “Can you at least give me a timeline?” His voice is lower when he speaks. “When will I get overnights with her?”

  I press my hip against the counter and face him. “When she can talk.”

  “Why then?”

  I hate that he even needs me to say this out loud. “So she can tell me if something happens, Ryle.”