Mid Life Love by Whitney Gracia Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

how to break it to you because it was more than just sex
between us. It was—”
    “Are you the
father of her baby?” I needed to hear him say it.
    He didn’t
answer.
    “Are you the
father of her baby? !” I screamed.
    “Yes.” His voice
cracked. “I...I’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that I put you
through this...I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. I’ll have to
pay her child support, but I’ll let her go. I’ll go to counseling and we can—”
    “Are you in love
with her?”
    “Claire, don’t—”
    “Answer me! Are
you in love with her?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you still
love me?”
    “Of course I
love you, Claire. I—”
    “Are you in
love with me?”
    His silence was
the loudest answer he’d given all night. His lack of words unraveled me and
forced me to break down right in front of him.
    He began talking
over my cries, saying words of some kind, but all I could hear was the roaring
of blood in my ears, the literal shattering of my heart.
    I curled into
the fetal position and cried my eyes out. I kept saying, “Get away from me,
it’s over,” but he wrapped his cold arms around me and refused to let me go.
    I wanted to
believe that we could get through this together, that he could fall in love
with me again and we could put this affair behind us. But as his clammy fingers
caressed my shoulders, I realized that I didn’t trust him anymore. And I didn’t
want to hurt myself even more by having to learn how to trust him again.
    In the morning,
with the one shred of dignity I had left, I calmly told him that I wanted a
divorce.
    ––––––––
    “T he collapse of
my marriage was not my fault.” I exhaled and opened my eyes.
    I felt my phone
vibrating and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”
    “Mom, I need
some Pop-Tarts.”
    “Caroline, you
have a car and a part-time job. Go to the store and buy them yourself.”
    “I spent my last
check on an iPod! Besides, Ashley said you were at the grocery store and I
can’t do my work without Pop-tarts. Can you get some for me and drop them off
at the library? Please ?”
    Sometimes, I
swore that my daughters weren’t related to me. They couldn’t be. At sixteen
years old, they had all the book smarts in the world, but their common sense IQ
was probably negative.
    “How old are
you?”
    “Sixteen.” She
sighed. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Let me call you back mom! The ice cream truck is
coming up the street! I have to get an Elmo-sicle!”
    Just as I was
about to put my phone back into my purse, my other daughter called. “Yes,
Ashley?”
    “How long was I
supposed to keep that bread in the oven?”
    “You weren’t
supposed to touch that bread at all, Ashley. I said it was for dinner . It
was going to go with the spaghetti and—”
    “I was hungry!
What was I supposed to eat?”
    “Leftover
chicken salad, sushi—”
    “I’m a vegan
since last night mom.” She gave me one of her ‘you-just-don’t-understand-me’
groans. “Remember? I can’t eat meat. Can you get me some soy products while
you’re out? And I’m totally sorry, but I completely burned that bread...Shouldn’t
the oven have made a sound to alert me? And why does every plastic pan I put in
the oven burn up? What’s that about?”
    Oh my god...
    “I’ll see you when
I get home, Ashley.” I hung up.
    My daughters
were not related to me. If I was sixteen years old with a job and a
shared car, I wouldn’t be calling my mother about anything. Then again—I
scrolled down my phone’s list and called my own mother. “Mom, are you still
coming over for dinner tonight?”
    “Sure. What time
should I be there?”
    “Seven o’ clock.
And I need you to bring some bread over. I had some ready but Ashley put
another plastic pan in the oven.”
    “You need to get
those girls checked out, Claire. I told you they were born with half a brain.”
    “Tell me about
it. See you tonight, mom. I’ll—”
    “Wait! Robert
Millington told me you