Chapter 3

Dashiell stood in the doorway of his study, holding a stack of papers.

Camilla immediately pulled Maren closer, her voice soft and apologetic. "I only came to bring Willa a gift, Dashiell."

"A leftover bag," I corrected. "The one you picked out for someone else's daughter."

Dashiell looked at the silver bag in Camilla's hands and gave a short, exhausted sigh.

"It's just a gift, Iris. Camilla was trying to be nice. Do you have to turn everything into a fight?"

"Maren just told Willa that you were learning how to be her daddy," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "Is that 'just a gift' too?"

Dashiell went still. Camilla quickly looked away.

"It was a misunderstanding, Iris," she murmured. "Maren misunderstood what I said."

"You can stop explaining," I interrupted. "You always explain after you've already done exactly what you wanted."

"Alright," Dashiell said impatiently. "I'll talk to Camilla."

"Talk to her. Don't talk to her. Do whatever you want. Willa and I are leaving."

His expression changed. "Iris—"

I turned my back on him and walked toward Willa's room.

Behind me, I heard Dashiell call Camilla's name, but I didn't stop.

When I entered Willa's room, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her blue sketchbook resting in her lap.

I pulled our suitcases from the closet and laid them across the mattress.

"Mommy?" Willa watched me pull her clothes from the drawers. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, baby. We're going to stay with Aunt Claire for a while."

Claire was my sister in Chicago.

Her small green eyes moved to the open suitcases. "Is Daddy coming?"

"No."

She lowered her head, her fingers tightening around her sketchbook.

"But today isn't over yet," she whispered.

I stopped packing and sat beside her on the bed.

"Because of the bag, sweetie?"

"Yes," she said, her voice barely holding together.

The words went straight through me.

She was still giving him more time.

Willa was quiet for a long moment, staring down at her pink sneakers.

Willa opened her sketchbook and pulled out the final slip.

Promise #100: Tomorrow, Daddy will take me to pick the prettiest bag in the whole store.

She rubbed her thumb over Dashiell's handwriting. The ink had blurred slightly beneath her warm palm.

Tears gathered in my eyes. I pulled her into my arms and held her tightly against my chest.

"Willa," I whispered into her hair. "I'm going to buy you the prettiest bag we can find. One chosen especially for you."

Willa wrapped her small arms around my neck.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Today?"

"Today."

"Can it be purple?"

"Any color you want."

"And have stars?"

I brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. "As many stars as we can find."

Willa looked down at Promise #100 again, her lower lip quivering slightly.

She folded the slip down the middle and pressed the crease flat with her thumbnail.

Then she tore it in half.

She looked at the two torn pieces for several seconds before dropping them into the trash can beside her desk.

Then she walked to her dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

"Can we take my star pajamas?"

"Of course, baby."

Willa began searching through the drawer.

I stepped into the hallway. It was empty.

I walked downstairs. Camilla and Maren were gone. So was Dashiell.

Through the front window, I saw that Dashiell's car was gone.

I could only assume he had chosen to drive Camilla and Maren home first.

It took me the rest of the morning to finish packing.

By early afternoon, my phone rang.

Lennox's name appeared on the screen.

"Lennox."

"I finished the papers," she said. "Do you still want me to send them to Dashiell?"

I looked at the empty driveway.

"Yes. Send them."

I ended the call and requested a taxi.

Your driver will arrive in six minutes.

I carried the first suitcase downstairs and set it beside the front door.

When I returned for the second one, Willa came out of her bedroom.

"Are we leaving before Daddy comes back, Mommy?" she asked.

I paused with my hand around the suitcase handle.

"Yes. The taxi will be here soon."

We had just reached the foyer when my phone buzzed.

A message from Dashiell appeared on the screen.

[I just got the divorce papers from your lawyer.]

[Iris, she is my daughter.]

[You can't take her away.]

I looked through the window at the empty driveway.

The taxi app lit up again.

Your driver will arrive in one minute.

Willa moved closer and slipped her hand into mine.

"Is the taxi almost here?"

Then, Dashiell's car appeared at the end of the street.