Chapter 4
Nadine stood on the front step, waiting for me to answer.
Behind her, Drew looked tired rather than ashamed.
That was what made it worse.
He had not brought her here because he had lost control. He had brought her because he expected me to eventually accept the role he had written for her.
“One happy home,” I said. “Is that what you think this is?”
Nadine’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
“I think Poppy deserves adults who don’t make her choose sides.”
“She does,” I said. “That’s why she won’t be spending the night with you. And she won’t be asked to make you feel like her mother.”
Drew stepped forward.
“You can’t decide that tonight.”
“I can decide what I will not agree to.”
His voice sharpened. “You’re upset. Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I looked at the walnut frame on the console table.
Then I turned toward the stairs.
“Tomorrow, Poppy and I won’t be here.”
Drew followed me into the hall.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need space to think without you bringing Nadine to my front door.”
“You’re taking Poppy away from me because I had one conversation with my family?”
“No. I’m taking her somewhere she doesn’t have to hear adults argue about which woman is supposed to make her happy.”
I went upstairs and packed one suitcase for Poppy and one for myself.
I did not empty closets or pull drawers apart.
I took school clothes, her library book, pajamas, the small stuffed rabbit she still slept with when she was worried, and the folder of papers I kept in the kitchen desk.
Poppy woke when I opened her bedroom door.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.
“For a few days.”
“Is Dad coming?”
“No.”
She sat up and reached for her rabbit.
“Can I bring my blue sneakers?”
“Yes.”
That was all she asked.
By eight the next morning, we were outside my sister Leanne’s apartment building.
Leanne had left the place empty between tenants while she spent the summer helping our father recover from surgery in Oregon.
Two months earlier, she had handed me a spare set of keys and told me to use it if I ever needed quiet.
At the time, I had laughed.
Now I carried Poppy’s suitcase through the lobby while she held my hand.
The apartment was small, furnished, and clean. It had a narrow balcony, one guest room, and no photographs of Drew anywhere.
Poppy walked into the bedroom and set her rabbit on the pillow.
“Can we stay here until school starts again?” she asked.
“We’ll stay until I know what comes next.”
She nodded as if that answer was enough.
After she unpacked her books, I sat at the kitchen counter and opened the Marlowe family chat.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment.
Then I wrote:
To clear up what happened at the reunion: Drew and I have not agreed to separate, and I was not told that Nadine would be introduced to Poppy or to the family as someone taking on a parental role. Please do not question Poppy about this or ask her to explain anyone’s choices. Future arrangements will be discussed directly between Drew and me.
I read it once.
There was no insult in it. No private detail I could take back later.
Only the truth Drew had tried to replace.
I sent it.
The replies began almost immediately.
His sister wrote that I should have called her first.
Marian said she had never meant to hurt me.
Drew’s mother asked why I had to “put this in writing” where everyone could see it.
Then Drew called.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“You made my whole family think I lied to them,” he said.
“You did lie to them.”
“You embarrassed them.”
“You let Nadine call me Poppy’s babysitter.”
“She misspoke.”
“She used the word you gave her.”
He exhaled hard into the phone.
“You cannot keep Poppy from me.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then tell me she’ll be ready next Friday.”
I looked through the glass doors at Poppy. She was sitting on the balcony floor with her library book open beside her.
“Ready for what?”
“The trip.”
“What trip?”
Drew was quiet for a beat.
Then he said, “I booked it six weeks ago. Nadine has already planned everything for Poppy.”