Chapter 4

That evening, Poppy stood by the front door with her shoes already on.

“Mom, are we still going to the lights at the botanical garden?”

I looked at her.

She should have been having dinner by the ocean.

I should have been sitting on a terrace, opening the birthday card she had hidden in my suitcase.

“Yes,” I said. “We’re still going.”

The botanical garden’s night lights were something I took Poppy to every year.

She liked finding the glowing flowers along the paths. She liked standing outside the greenhouse and counting the butterflies projected onto the glass.

That night, she did not run ahead like she usually did.

She held my hand the whole time.

Outside the children’s greenhouse, she looked up at me.

“Does Dad know we’re here?”

“He knows we didn’t go on the trip.”

“Is he coming back to celebrate your birthday?”

I did not tell her yes.

I did not tell her no.

“Tonight, it’s just us.”

Poppy nodded.

She stopped in front of one of the light displays and picked out a blue paper butterfly. Then she held it out to me.

“This looks like your travel bag.”

I took it.

“It does a little.”

“Can we still go to the beach when Dad comes home?”

“Next time, we’ll decide where we go together first.”

She pressed the paper butterfly onto the back of my hand.

“Then next time, I want to go somewhere with shells.”

“Okay.”

When we got home, she stuck the butterfly to the fridge.

She did not ask about Claire again.

I did not mention Miles.

After she fell asleep, I sat down at the dining table and opened my laptop.

My appointment with the mediator was not until Monday. I did not need to wait until Monday to tell Miles our marriage could not go on the way it had.

I wrote a short email.

I did not accuse him.

I did not list every lie he had told.

I wrote that I would be moving back to my apartment. Until we met with the mediator, Poppy’s school pickup, school communication, and medical care would be handled only by her parents. Any conversation about her needed to be in writing.

At the end, I wrote:

I am willing to work with you to arrange Poppy’s life going forward.

I will not keep pretending to be a family with Claire.

My birthday wish is a divorce. On Monday, I will meet with the mediator so we can begin making arrangements for Poppy and our separation.

I read it twice.

Then I signed my name.

Lena Hart.

The two words sat on the screen for a long time.

For years, I had believed that if I stayed calm enough, Miles would come back to Poppy and me. Maybe he would come back late. Maybe he would come back sorry. Maybe he would at least come back with some sign that this family still mattered to him.

At the airport, he had stood beside Claire and waited for me to make the decision easy for them.

I clicked Send.

The clock beside the dining table had just passed nine.

I did not feel relieved.

I only knew I could no longer pretend this was an argument that would blow over.

My phone buzzed.

Miles had sent a picture.

Claire stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the ocean-view suite, her back to the camera.

She had taken off her white cover-up and was wearing the light blue cardigan I had packed for my birthday dinner.

The navy weekender sat at the foot of the bed.

The side pocket was open.

Poppy’s little map was sticking out.

Miles’s message appeared beneath the photo.

The hotel moved us into the suite you picked. Claire didn’t want it to go to waste.

I stared at the picture, my thumb still on the screen.

He did not say he was sorry.

He only told me that Claire had taken the place meant for me.