Chapter 2
Drew still had one hand around my wrist when Poppy spoke.
“Mom?”
Her voice cut through the noise from the lawn.
Drew let go at once.
I looked down at the red marks his fingers had left on my skin, then held my hand out to Poppy.
“Come with me.”
Nadine crouched beside her before Poppy could move.
“Your dad said you were staying for the boat race,” she said softly. “You were excited about it.”
Poppy looked at Drew.
He gave her a tight smile. “You can stay, kiddo. Mom is just upset right now.”
That was the first lie he told in front of her that day.
Not the affair.
Not the story about our separation.
That one.
The idea that my anger was the problem Poppy had to manage.
I kept my hand open.
“You can stay if you want,” I told her. “You can also come home with me.”
Poppy’s fingers closed around mine.
“I want to go with Mom.”
Drew’s expression hardened.
“Elise, don’t pull her into this.”
“I’m not pulling her anywhere.”
His mother stepped closer, her face strained. “Maybe everyone should take a breath. This is supposed to be a family day.”
I looked past her at the photo table.
The walnut frame was still there.
Our old beach picture was gone.
In its place was the photograph Drew had taken six weeks earlier, with Nadine’s hand resting on Poppy’s shoulder as though she had always belonged there.
“Family day ended when Drew decided to introduce his girlfriend as Poppy’s mother figure,” I said.
Nadine stood up slowly.
“I never said that.”
“You called me her babysitter.”
“I thought you were already separated.”
Drew moved toward me. “I told you, I was trying to avoid a blowup.”
“You told everyone I had left you.”
“I told them we were trying to work through things.”
“Without telling me.”
A few people nearby turned away. Others pretended to look toward the lake.
Drew lowered his voice. “We will talk tonight. Don’t make Poppy remember today for the wrong reason.”
I looked at him for a second.
Then I led my daughter across the grass.
Poppy did not speak until we were in the car.
She buckled her seat belt carefully, pulling it flat over her jacket.
I started the engine but did not pull away right away.
“You’re not in trouble,” I said.
She nodded, though her eyes stayed fixed on the window.
“Did Dad tell you Nadine would be there today?”
“He said she was coming because everyone liked her.”
“Did he tell you he had told the family we were separated?”
Poppy’s fingers stopped worrying at her sleeve.
“No.”
“Did he tell you to keep anything from me?”
She was quiet long enough that I thought she might not answer.
Then she said, “He said it wasn’t a secret.”
I turned toward her.
“What did he mean?”
“He said you had a lot going on, and you might misunderstand if I told you too early.” Her voice dropped. “He said Nadine was just his friend at first.”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“How many times have you seen her?”
“Three. Maybe four.”
“Just today and the bowling place?”
“There was dinner too.”
The car felt too small.
Poppy had eaten dinner with a woman I had never met while I had been told Drew was working late.
She had been asked to hold that fact in her small hands and call it something other than a secret.
I kept my voice steady.
“You never have to keep an adult secret for Dad. Or for anyone else. If someone tells you not to tell me something, you tell me anyway.”
Her eyes filled, but she blinked quickly.
“Is Dad mad at me because I left?”
“No, sweetheart.” I reached across the console and took her hand. “He’s mad because he didn’t get to control what happened.”
When we got home, Poppy carried her overnight bag upstairs.
Usually, she would have asked for hot chocolate after a long day by the lake.
This time, she only said she wanted to read in her room.
I let her go.
Then I sat at the kitchen table and opened the Marlowe family group chat.
Seven years of reunion photos, holiday plans, baby announcements, and arguments about cabin assignments filled the screen.
I scrolled back to March.
There it was.
A message from Drew, sent at 11:18 p.m. on March 3.
Elise and I are trying to make a peaceful transition. Please don’t ask Poppy too many questions when you see her. We’re trying to keep things calm for her.
His mother had replied first.
Whatever you need, sweetheart.
His sister had added a heart.
Marian had written:
We all want what’s best for Poppy.
No one had called me.
No one had asked whether I knew my husband had already ended our marriage for an audience.