Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
My heart breaks as I watch my daughter struggle. I can see the emotions battling inside her, and all I can do is watch helplessly as her eyes redden and lips quiver. When she finally looks at me, a silent tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m fucking sad, okay? I’m sad that you won’t be around anymore. I’m sad that Mum’s sad. I’m sad that you’ve been sad all this time and none of us knew…”
“Lucy…” Tears cloud my vision as I leap from the chair and go to kneel in front of my daughter. I take her hands, clutch them tightly on top of her knees. “Oh, Lucy, I haven’t been sad. This family means everything to me. It always will, I promise you.”
Becca sniffles in the background while Lucy’s shoulders bob up and down with her own cry.
“I feel guilty,” Lucy goes on. “Like I should’ve known. I should’ve known and I should’ve helped you.”
“No, Lucy.”
“Helped both of you. And you could’ve been happy. You’ve wasted so much time pretending.”
“I wasted it, baby,” Becca interrupts with a gentle hand on our daughter’s back. “Me. Don’t put that on yourself. That was never your job. That will never be your job.”
Lucy lets go of my hands, wiping away her snot and tears. “I-I don’t understand.”
“I knew about your dad.”
“Becca…” I try to stop her. There’s no need for Lucy to lose faith in both of us.
My wife shakes her head. “After so long, it became easy to pretend I didn’t but, deep down, I knew. It’s not fair of me to keep letting you take this all out on him. Somewhere along the way, we both messed up here. But…I’ll never be able to think of it as wasted time because your dad is the most wonderful man I know, and you and your brother are the most perfect kids I know. I got to spend all that time as part of this amazing family. That wasn’t wasted. Not to me.”
In an instant, I remember why it’s so easy to love her. Instinctively, my hand reaches for my wife’s, my heart reacting when she accepts. A moment later, we’re all connected, the three of us holding hands, crying together, loving each other, forgiving one another.
“So, what happens now?” Lucy’s voice is raw from crying. “Do you two, like, get divorced and never see each other? Do Ben and I have to choose who to see at Christmases and birthdays?”
Minus the divorce, which seems inevitable at this point, that couldn’t be further from what I want, but I’m too afraid to ruin this moment by pushing Becca. Ultimately, she holds the power.
“I think…” Becca’s grip tightens on my hand while she takes a deep breath. Anxious, my pulse quickens as I wait for her to continue. “I think we’re better than that,” she says after what feels like forever. “I think at the heart of it, your dad and I have always been the greatest of friends. I hope, in time, we can carry on being those friends.”
Emotion overwhelms me, clogs my throat, burns my eyes, hammers in my chest. My head falls onto Becca’s knees and my arms reach around her waist, hugging her, praying she can feel how grateful I am, how sorry I am, how much I love her. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, weeping into her trousers. “I’m so sorry.”
I feel her hands on my head, combing through my hair. “I know, Will. I know. I’m sorry, too.”
We stay this way for what feels like minutes. Hugging. Crying. Forgiving. Naturally, it has to end, and when it does, it couldn’t happen in a better way. A truly Walker way.
“So, staying friends is, like, totally great,” Lucy says, invading the delicate moment, “But Ben and I still get two sets of Christmas presents, right? I mean, there must be some perks to divorced parents.”
With a damp face that sprouts a smile, I dare to think everything might be okay.
Until I remember Laurence.
Six days later…
Even though the rain has broken the summer temperature outside, I feel awfully hot staring at Laurence’s number on my phone. I rub at my neck, trying to loosen the tightness in my throat, and hope my brain will find some words when I press his name.
I hear ringing.
I’m breathing too fast. Too loud.
“William…” My name rushes into my ear like a plea. Forceful. Desperate. Hopeful. And it feels like I’ve been stabbed in the centre of my chest. “William, are you there?”
“Y-yeah. Sorry. Hi.”
I don’t know how many seconds pass in silence, where we just listen to each other breathing. Too many. Not enough.
“Are you still there?” Laurence says, quiet, husky, after a while.
“I’m here.”
“I miss you…”
Oh, God. The words sit heavily under my ribs. “I…I miss you, too.”
“But you’re not coming back to me. I can hear it in your voice.”