I stay silent. Finally, I open up. I have to. It’s only fair.

“Simone’s been here for two days.”

Chloe looks up sharply. “Two days?”

“She came for Amelie’s senior concert.”

I watch the calculations in Chloe’s eyes. I can almost see timelines that look like a stock ticker, numbers shooting past. “The other night, when you came over. She was here?”

I nod.

“Your booty call—”

“Don’t call it that,” I snap. “It was anything but.”

“You were escaping her?”

One end of my mouth curls up. “I needed to see you.”

“It’s meet the ex-wife day,” she says with a long sigh. Holly’s crying, the sound piercing, and Chloe bounces her on one knee, grabbing her coffee with a desperate hand. “Two in one day. I’m not sure what I did in a prior life to deserve this, but it must have been bad.”

“Two ex-wives?” The cloud of confusion just thickened.

“Long story,” she says, her mouth twisted in pain. Her coffee must be as hot as mine.

Holly’s screaming goes up a notch.

I start tapping my leg again.

This is too much.

“I want to hear it.”

Chloe’s attention is split between me, the baby, her coffee, and the unsuccessful attempt to stop tears from flowing down her cheeks. Ten minutes ago, I was yelling at my past.

Now I’m listening to my present scream.

What sound does the future make?

“I—”

Holly won’t stop crying. Chloe’s eye dart to mine, then close, twin tears rolling down her face. Like someone is slowly rolling my gut inside out, I tighten, curling inward, turning to granite.

Inaction is unacceptable.

“Let me hold her,” I insist.

Chloe clings to the baby. “No.” She stands, upsetting the plate of biscotti, one sliding to the ground and cracking in half. “I need to go. Holly needs to be home.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

The look she gives me breaks my heart.

“Please. No. Nick – this day. This—” She looks everywhere but at me. “This is too much.”

I want to beg her. I want to make her stay. I want to take the baby and calm her down. I want to kiss Chloe’s tears away.

I made her cry.

I can’t undo that.

But I can respect her wishes. I can give her what she needs.

I nod, standing, helping maneuver the carriage outside. The cold slap of air makes Holly whoop, the look on her face precious. Even Chloe laughs through her tears.

“Let me walk with you part of the way?”

Chloe shakes her head. “It’s been one hell of a day. Let me – let this all sink in.”

“Chloe.” I hold her elbow, my heart in my throat, my mind ragged around the edges, unraveling. Think, Nick. Say the right words. Find the core element here that fixes this.

Make this whole again.

“Nothing Simone said is true.”

“I know.”

“I would never lie to you.”

Her eyes narrow, the look deepening between us. “I know.”

“Do you?”

She gives me a sad smile. “Yes.”

I tip her chin up, “Then why does this feel like we’re falling apart?”

Chloe grabs the stroller and begins walking. I keep up.

“Nick, I can’t. I just can’t right now. I went to work today and met Joe’s ex-wife. I came here to talk and be with you and instead I get a second dose of ex-wife karma. It’s too much.”

“Joe’s ex?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it is.”

“Tell me. Tell me the story.” A part of me knows that if she walks away, this is over. There’s no reason to think that. None.

But it feels true.

“Let me go home. Settle Holly down. Think.”

“Sure.” Her eyes have a hunted look, like I’m right on the brink of pushing her over the edge. Focus Man kicks in.

My focus needs to be on doing the right thing.

Not on winning.

“Text or call any time.”

“When I’m ready.” She says the words with such sadness.

“I’ll be there. What we have, Chloe – I don’t want to lose you. I feel like I’ve been looking for you for most of my life. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. This is worth waiting for. We’re so close.”

Her eyes fly open and her face flushes, jaw set, nostrils flaring.

And then she marches off without another word.

Chapter 18

Chloe

“Remember that party game, Twister?” I ask Jemma. Henry is only half-listening, since the Pats game is on, fourth quarter. Harold is with my mother, off at the Four Seasons again. By the time I arrived home with a still-hysterical Holly, there was only time for an air kiss and a promise to visit again.

I escaped to my safe spot.

Even if it involves football.

“Sure,” she answers. “There was a big plastic mat with colored circles, and a spinner, and you had to put a certain body part on a certain circle. And everyone was on the mat at the same time. Eventually someone couldn’t reach, or couldn’t hold their position, and they collapsed. That caused everyone else to collapse with them.”

“I loved that game,” Henry says fondly.

“Says the seven-foot-tall dude,” Jemma notes bitterly. “I hated that game. I was too short to ever reach the outer circles.”

“Well, Twister is what dating in your thirties and forties is like.” I take a sip from my bottle of Corona Light.

“What?” she laughs.

“Sshhhhh!” from Henry.

“The circles are all the different parts of your life,” I explain. “So you each have a hand for your kids, and a foot for your job. Maybe the other foot is your former relationships, your exes.”

I move to the floor to demonstrate. Henry looks up from the TV screen. I’m stretched out and arched like a spider. I wave my spare hand in the air.

“Now I have this one hand left for a new relationship. The spinner points to a red circle, but it’s just a little too far to stretch. I try hard, but I just... can’t... reach...” I collapse dramatically on the carpet. “I fall down, and Nick falls on top of me. Game over.”