When Claire Bennett saw Natalie’s Facebook post about buying swimsuits for “a surprise January getaway,” she already knew where Natalie was going. She just didn’t know how the woman had managed to invade this particular corner of her life too. Then she saw the laughing palm-tree emoji beneath the words, and the cold feeling in her stomach told her the answer before Michael ever opened his mouth.
Chapter 2
Michael came home late the following evening after finishing a project with a coworker. Owen was spending the night with Michael’s parents, and the house felt unusually still, decorated for Christmas but stripped of the boy’s laughter. The tree glowed in the living room, presents arranged beneath it, while Claire sat at the dining table with her hands folded in front of her.
Michael stopped when he saw her. “What happened?”
“We need to talk.”
His shoulders dropped. “Oh, God. Are we still doing this?”
That sentence hurt more than Claire expected. Not because it was cruel, exactly, but because it reduced months of humiliation and pleading to an annoyance he wished she would outgrow.
“Yes,” she said. “We’re still doing this.”
Michael set down his laptop bag. “Claire, I told you. I’ll talk to Natalie about future events.”
“No. That is what you’ve told me every time. I get upset, you ask me to let it go, and then she shows up again.”
“She doesn’t ‘show up.’ She’s invited.”
“By you.”
“Sometimes by my parents.”
“Because you taught everyone that this is normal.”
Michael walked toward the kitchen, but Claire stood. “No. Please don’t go make coffee or clean something or tell me we’re tired. Just stay here and answer me.”
He turned around slowly.
Claire’s voice shook despite her determination. “Last June, we threw a birthday party for Natalie’s daughter in our backyard. Lucy isn’t your child. I bought the decorations. I ordered the cake. I cleaned this house before and afterward while Natalie sat outside talking to your mother.”
“She’s Owen’s sister.”
“And I accepted that because you said it would mean a lot to Owen. Then Natalie came camping with us because you said Owen wanted Lucy there. She came to my birthday because you said it would be rude not to invite her after she heard about dinner.”
Michael rubbed his forehead. “What do you want from me?”
“A boundary.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only answer I’ve been giving you for two years.”
He stared at her, and Claire felt something inside her harden. For most of their relationship she had softened her words before giving them to Michael. She had worried about sounding jealous, controlling, insecure, immature, or cruel. Tonight she no longer cared what label he attached to her pain.
“I want you to call Natalie,” Claire said. “Tell her she crossed a line by researching our vacation and booking the same resort. Ask her to change her plans.”
Michael actually laughed in disbelief. “I can’t make a grown woman cancel a trip.”
“I said ask.”
“And if she says no?”
“Then tell her we won’t be spending time with her there. No meals together. No excursions together. No hanging around the pool together because Owen wants everyone together. This was supposed to be our vacation.”
“You’re asking me to put Owen in the middle.”
“No, I’m asking you to stop using Owen as the reason nobody is allowed to have boundaries.”
The words landed hard.
Michael’s jaw tightened. “That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Natalie and I worked very hard to remain friends after the divorce. Owen has never had to watch us fight. Do you know how rare that is?”
Claire’s anger gave way for a moment because she understood what he meant. Michael’s devotion to his son was one of the things that had made her fall in love with him. She had watched him sit on the floor building model airplanes with Owen, attend parent-teacher conferences, coach Little League, and drive across town because his son had forgotten a stuffed bear at their house.
“I admire what you’ve done for Owen,” she said. “But healthy co-parenting isn’t pretending the divorce never happened.”
“That’s not what we’re doing.”
“Then where is the limit?”
Michael said nothing.
“Will Natalie be invited to our wedding?”
His eyes flickered.
Claire felt sick. “You’ve thought about it.”
“She’s Owen’s mother. Of course she’d probably be invited.”
“Fine. Would she be in the family photographs?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about our honeymoon? If she happens to find the hotel online and books a room, do I have to smile through that too?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? Because Mexico sounded ridiculous yesterday.”
Michael exhaled sharply. “We’re exhausted. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No. Tomorrow is how we got here.”
She stepped closer, and for the first time that evening Michael seemed to notice how frightened she was beneath the anger.
“What happens if we have a baby?” she asked. “Does Natalie come to the hospital because Owen wants his mother there? Does she spend every Christmas morning in our living room forever? Does she come on every vacation because you’re afraid saying no will make you a bad father?”
Michael’s face softened. “You know I love you.”
“Then protect some space for us.”
“I can tell Natalie you don’t like this.”
Claire stared at him.
Michael continued, already fumbling his way toward disaster. “I’ll tell her you’re uncomfortable with her being around so much. If you want, I’ll tell her you can’t stand having her there.”
Something in Claire went completely still.
“So that’s how you’d say it?”
“What?”
“You’d make me the problem.”
“I’m trying to give you what you want.”
“No, you’re trying to avoid telling Natalie that you want a boundary too.”
“I don’t have a problem with her being around.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Claire looked at the Christmas tree, at the framed photograph of herself, Michael, and Owen on the mantel, at the stockings she had bought with all three names embroidered across the top. She suddenly understood that the battle she believed they had been fighting together had never been their battle.
It had always been hers alone.
“She’s still your wife,” Claire whispered.
Michael frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Not legally. But in every other way that matters, she has a claim on your time, your family, your holidays, your home. She gets all the emotional privileges of being your wife without actually being married to you.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“And what am I?”
“My fiancée.”
Claire’s eyes filled. “Sometimes I feel like I’m here to provide the parts of marriage Natalie stopped wanting.”
Michael’s face reddened. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“It’s a horrible way to feel.”
“You know how much I love you.”
“Then answer one question.”
He stared at her warily.
“If I left tonight, and six months from now Natalie told you she wanted to try again, would you?”
“Stop.”
“Would you get back together with her?”
“This is insane.”
“Answer me.”
“Claire.”
“Please.”
He looked away.
That was the first answer.
But Claire had spent too many years accepting half-answers from men who wanted the comfort of her presence without the responsibility of choosing her. Before Michael, she had spent four years with someone who kept promising they would talk about marriage “eventually.” She had left because eventually had started to sound like never.
She would not make the same mistake in a different house.
“If you were single,” she said, “and Natalie wanted you back, would you try again?”
Michael rubbed both hands over his face. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
There was a long silence.
Then he said, “If I were single and she wanted to work things out… I guess I’d consider it.”
Claire felt the engagement ring become unbearably heavy.
Michael’s eyes widened almost immediately, as though he had only just heard his own words.
“Claire, that isn’t what I meant.”
But she already knew that it was.
