Some Women (13 page)

“Have I mentioned I hate that?”

“I believe so,” he laughed softly and kissed her firmly on the
mouth. “Things are great now, Piper. We're great. We're better than great. Fern is great. There's nothing to worry about. Just a whole lot of greatness.”

“You make it all sound so simple.” Their eyes met and, in that moment, Piper knew there wasn't a man on Earth who could make her feel safer and more loved than Todd did.

“That's because it is simple. All I need is you and Fern.”

Just as Piper was about to reply with a similar sentiment, the doorbell rang. “Who the hell could that be at this hour?”

“That's for me!” Fern shrieked, racing into the kitchen as fast as her fuzzy slippers would carry her. “Oh, my God, I can't believe it! Mom! Your present is here! It must be him!”

“Him?” Piper looked at Todd, confused, and he returned the same perplexed expression.

Until Fern flung open the front door. “Dad! It's really you!”

Piper's body froze and her mouth dropped open. The only word that escaped was “Max?”

When Henry had asked to have the boys for Christmas, Annabel had held firm. He had wanted to bring them back to his sister Lisa's, so they could spend the morning tearing through gifts with their cousins, but Annabel had said she preferred to have them home. After all, he'd taken them for Thanksgiving, and while her time in Georgia had been rejuvenating, she'd still missed her sons terribly. In the spirit of compromise, she'd suggested that perhaps Henry could pick them up the following day after dinner, even though they'd normally have stayed with her. Surprisingly, he'd agreed without protest.

“Mom . . . Moooom?” Harper stood by her side, gazing up at her with an angelic grin.

“Yes, sweetie pie?” Annabel smeared one piece of cinnamon raisin bread with peanut butter. There would be no elaborate Christmas feast for the kids—just their favorites. At some point,
Annabel had resigned herself to the fact that it was better for them to eat
something
, even if Harper's sole source of protein was peanut butter, than for her to spin her wheels piecing together a healthful meal that they wouldn't take one bite of.

“You're in my way. And my fire truck has to get to an emergency over there.” He pointed toward the dining room, where Hudson—purportedly the victim of said burning flames—was now flailing his arms and screaming, “HELP ME!” at the top of his lungs.

“I am so sorry. Looks like a real crisis.” She took a step or two back.

“It is.” He smiled, flashing his grassy green eyes at her.

“Do you know how much I love you?” Annabel leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before he scurried off to play with his brother. “So delicious!” she called after him.

She couldn't help but notice how nicely the kids had been getting along lately. And she wondered whether it was merely a stage they were passing through or if it had something to do with her and Henry's separation. There was a different dynamic in the house, to be sure. Strangely, while Annabel had assumed things would be more challenging with Henry gone, that even more responsibility would come to rest on her shoulders, it was actually quite the opposite. Naturally, when the kids were with her, she was the one who had to do everything. But hadn't it mostly been that way when Henry was around? Only now she could do it on her terms, without having to nag Henry to get up off the couch and help her. Not to mention that she no longer had to clean up after him. There were no dirty glasses left on the coffee table. No half-f bottles of water scattered about the house. No sullied laundry flung in the direction of the hamper that never ended up actually
falling inside it. Not to mention that when Harper and Hudson were with Henry for the weekend, even for a night, it felt like someone had gifted her a mini-vacation.

How many times over the past five years, come six o'clock in the evening, had she been able to pour herself a glass of white wine, put her feet up, call for sushi delivery, and watch an uninterrupted episode of
The Bachelorette
? Not once. Yet lately she'd come to learn to appreciate her “breaks,” as she referred to them. It was completely new to her to have time at home where she wasn't running around after the boys. Of course, there were moments when the stabbing pain of being without her children—and sometimes her husband—was more than seemed possible for her to endure. Still, she'd managed to find a way to push through it. To tell herself that this was all part of the acclimating process to life after divorce, and that it wouldn't ache this profoundly forever.

The doorbell rang just as she was slicing a carrot for Hudson, and Annabel darted into the downstairs powder room to check her appearance in the bathroom mirror. It was a funny thing. While Henry had lived at home, she'd never thought twice about gathering her hair into a messy topknot and lounging around in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, which may or may not have been stamped with yellow sweat stains at the armpits. However, now it somehow felt important that she look halfway presentable when he came around. Maybe she wanted him to feel like he was missing out on something. Maybe she wanted him to think about her instead of the woman in the red suit. Or maybe she was just deluding herself into believing that he still looked at her in that way at all.

Annabel raked her fingers through her hair, flattening the
flyaway strands with the palms of her hands. She took a deep breath, twisting her rear end toward the mirror, so she could make sure her jeans still looked as flattering as they had moments earlier when she'd changed into them. She sighed. It was as good as it would get until she dropped a little more weight. Unfortunately, her marathon of indulgence in Georgia hadn't helped that effort. She walked deliberately toward the front door, thinking how silly it was that Henry couldn't simply enter his own home anymore without announcing his arrival.

“Hey. Sorry. I was in the bathroom.” She greeted him, immediately regretting the decision to share that information. The last thing she wanted was for him to imagine her sitting on the toilet, with her pants around her ankles, although he'd seen it many times.

“Sure, yeah. No problem.” He stood shivering on the front porch. “Can I come in?”

“Right, yes, absolutely.” She backed up, holding the door open for him, and then pushed it closed behind him with a thud. “Can I take your coat? I was just about to feed the boys, and then they're all yours.”

“Oh.” He looked confused, and handed her his black puffer jacket to hang in the entryway closet.

“What's wrong?”

“For some reason, I thought I had them for dinner. I was going to take them to Luciano's for pizza.”

“I'm pretty sure I said after dinner.” Annabel wasn't pretty sure. She was 150 percent positive—and a month ago, it would have grated on her last nerve that Henry hadn't bothered to pay attention to the plans they'd set. Because Henry never bothered to pay attention to details that were integral to the way Annabel
mapped out her days. In fact, a month ago, she probably would have gone so far as to retrieve the e-mail she'd sent him, which had outlined those very details. Only suddenly, it seemed petty and not worth the effort. “I can save this stuff if you want to take them now.”

“No, no. It's okay. I'll bring them to Luciano's for lunch tomorrow. It's just . . .”

“It's just what?”

“Nothing. It's fine.”

“Tell me.”

“I haven't really eaten anything all day, so I'm kind of hungry myself.” He wrinkled his forehead. “I'm working on a major deal and it's taking up all my time.”

Normally Annabel would have assumed he was fishing for her to offer him something. But he didn't seem to be coming from that place tonight. Plus, she'd noticed he'd lost some weight—at least ten pounds. Of course, she'd jumped to the conclusion that he'd done so to impress Nellie's Tavern Lady or any other suitors he might be courting. Although now it occurred to her that he probably wasn't feeding himself as often as she had or stocking his apartment with quite the assortment of snacks, if any, that were perpetually available in her house.

“I have a frozen pizza I can heat up for you,” she offered.

“Nah, that's not necessary.”

“Are you sure? It will literally take seven minutes.” Annabel made her way into the kitchen, and Henry followed. She opened the freezer and checked the back of the pizza box. “Oh, wait. It's actually eight minutes.”

“Well, then, if it's not too much trouble.”

“Nope.” Annabel opened the box, placed the pizza on a piece of aluminum foil, and preheated the oven.

“So, how was Christmas?” Henry hoisted himself onto one of the barstools lining the center island with its black granite countertop. The black granite countertop they'd both fallen in love with the minute they'd walked into this very room all those years ago.

“It was nice. The boys made out like bandits.”

“I bet. I have a few more things for them too.”

“I figured you would.” Annabel smiled guardedly.

“Don't worry. I didn't go crazy or anything.” She could feel him watching for her reaction. And she knew exactly why. Every year, Annabel would go to great lengths to get the kids some of what they wanted and all of what they needed in the way of gifts. And every year, Henry would descend upon the toy store at the eleventh hour, like a gluttonous child, and purchase a cart full of extravagant toys, games, action figures, and so on, thereby obliterating her carefully executed strategy to indulge them, but not to turn them into spoiled brats.

“I'm not.” She shrugged. “You're their dad. You can get them anything you want.” She smirked. “Although I did nail it this year.”

“I have no doubt.” He was really looking at her now.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on.”

“I don't know. You seem different.” He tilted his head to one side, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Same old Annabel.” She slid the pizza into the oven and finished plating Harper's and Hudson's dinners.

“Maybe. But there's something . . . different.”

“I just got highlights.”

“No, it's not something physical.” He thought for a moment. “You seem more relaxed.”

“That's because you're not around to nudge me all the time.” She laughed.

“Right.” He snorted. “That'll take years off anyone's life.”

“Can you call the kids?”

“Where are they?”

“I think up in the playroom.”

“Sure.” Henry stood and headed toward the stairs. “Hey, guys! Come on down. Dinnertime!”

“Coming, Dad!” Harper shouted back.

Annabel closed her eyes, allowing the sound of their plodding footsteps to soothe her. It was easy to fall back into the comforting embrace of her old life. The problem was, if she allowed herself to falter, she knew she'd come crashing to the ground.

•   •   •

“You were completely right.” Annabel broke off a piece of her fat-free blueberry muffin and popped it in her mouth. She'd suffered through another grueling barre class as she'd watched Mackenzie bounce around like her feet were affixed to a pogo stick. They'd then retired to their usual spot—the café next door—a ritual which had become far more about the company than the sustenance.

“Music to my ears.” Mackenzie smiled before sinking her teeth into a chocolate croissant. “About what?”

“Okay, first of all, this muffin is disgusting.” Annabel pushed the rest of it aside.

“I told you not to get it.
Fat-free
and
muffin
might as well be an oxymoron.” She rolled her eyes. “Here, take half of my chocolate croissant.”

“Thank you, but I can't. I'm really trying to lose ten pounds.”

“You know, I think that's ridiculous, but if you insist, then I'd suggest an egg-white omelet with some veggies and protein. It'll fill you up for hours.” Mackenzie took a careful sip from her steaming mug of tea. “So, what was I completely right about? I'm dying to know.”

“That thing you said in Georgia when you forced me to hike a zillion miles. About how I should act more independent, you know, not nag Henry or obsess over every little detail.”

“Ah yes, one of my many pearls of wisdom.” Mackenzie smiled cheekily. “So, what's going on?”

“It's nothing major. But Henry came over last night to pick up the kids, and we actually got along.” Annabel helped herself to a small section of Mackenzie's croissant, allowing the chocolate to melt on her tongue. “Oh yeah, this is much better than my muffin.”

“Imagine that.” Mackenzie cocked her head. “Seriously, though, in the way of Henry, that sounds like a step in the right direction. Maybe I've got a second career in marriage counseling.”

“I wouldn't get too excited. It's not like he moved back in. It was just nice not to work myself into a tizzy over the small stuff.”

“Tizzy?”

“Shut up. You know what I'm saying. We didn't bicker or snap at each other. I even made him a frozen pizza.”

“You
didn't
!” Mackenzie feigned shock.

“I did.” Annabel stuck out her tongue. One of the things she'd come to love about Mackenzie was that she didn't take herself too
seriously. She made Annabel feel comfortable, perhaps even more youthful—save for the fact that she didn't look any younger these days. “He said something was different about me. That I'm more relaxed.”

“Are you?”

“Not really.” Annabel laughed. “Perhaps slightly more tolerant. When he's not around all the time, there's not as much resentment over the day-to-day stuff.”

“So maybe the split is for the best?”

“I didn't say that. I mean, he's still cheating on me.” Annabel arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of which . . . any progress on that front?”

“Jeez, guilty before proven innocent, huh?”

“Let's call it a wife's instinct, shall we?” Annabel motioned to the waitress, who began making her way over to their table at the pace of a tortoise wading through honey. “The service here really leaves something to be desired. Anyway, you were saying . . .”

“Actually, I wasn't saying. You were asking. But, if you must know, we found out about another engagement on Henry's calender. Piper and I are planning to see what's what.”

“Fucking bastard.” Annabel shook her head, and the waitress appeared by her side. “I'm going to need one of those chocolate croissants, please.”

“Why? He's not allowed to dine out?”

“He is. It just better not be with that whore.”

“Easy there, tiger.” Mackenzie straightened her posture like the proper Southern girl she was. “Breathe in; breathe out.” She demonstrated, placing her hand on her abdomen. “Have you ever tried meditation?”