Chapter 3

Three days later, I walked into Emma's college planning meeting and found Grant and Laura already sitting beside her.

Grant looked up.

"What are you doing here?"

The question stopped me for half a second.

Then I pulled out the empty chair.

"Attending Emma's meeting."

Laura glanced at him, not me.

That told me enough.

Ms. Alvarez, Emma's counselor, came in with a folder.

"Rachel, I'm glad you could make it."

She hesitated.

"I wasn't sure you'd be joining us. Grant said Laura would be handling more of Emma's college planning from now on."

Emma turned toward her father.

I did too.

Grant smiled quickly.

"There was some confusion. Rachel's had a lot going on medically."

"I had surgery," I said. "I didn't step away from Emma."

"Rachel."

I heard the warning in his voice.

I ignored it.

For years, I had helped Emma plan classes, applications, deadlines, and essays. College admissions was also my work.

Grant knew that better than anyone.

But I was tired of hearing what he had decided for me.

So I looked at Emma.

"Do you still want me involved?"

Her eyes widened.

She looked at Grant, then Laura, then back at me.

"Yes," she said quietly.

I waited.

She straightened.

"Yes. I do."

Something in my chest loosened.

I turned to Ms. Alvarez.

"Then there seems to be a misunderstanding. I haven't stepped away from anything."

"Of course," she said. "We'll keep everyone included."

That was enough.

I did not spend the meeting competing with Laura.

I asked Emma what she wanted, corrected one deadline, and let her speak for herself.

When it ended, Emma touched my arm.

"Can I send you my essay tonight?"

"Yes."

Grant waited until Emma and Laura were farther down the hall.

Then he caught up with me.

"You didn't have to make that awkward."

"I corrected something you told the school about me."

"Laura was helping."

"You told them she was taking over."

"Someone had to make a plan."

"I was still here."

"You were barely functioning."

"I was sick, Grant."

"And Laura is her mother, Rachel."

I went still.

He saw it.

Then he finished anyway.

"You're her stepmother."

For eleven years, I had never asked Emma to call me Mom.

I had never tried to replace Laura.

But Grant had no problem using the word stepmother to put me back in a smaller box the moment I became inconvenient.

"She can be her mother without you erasing me."

"No one is erasing you."

"You told people I was stepping back before you ever asked me."

"You were overwhelmed."

"I asked you to help me."

"And I got help."

There it was again.

Normally, I would have explained. I would have tried one more time to make him understand the difference.

This time, I didn't.

I walked away.

In my car, I searched for the family lawyer a colleague had once recommended.

When the receptionist answered, I said, "My name is Rachel Bennett. I need a consultation."

Later, the lawyer asked what I wanted to know first.

I looked back at the school.

"I need to know what I should protect if I decide to leave my marriage."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Knowing your options doesn't mean you have to use them."

"I know."

But I wanted to know what they were.