Page 76 of Because of Blake
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
“I’m here.” He kisses my forehead. “I know this is hard, I get it, but–”
“How could you possibly get it?” I ask, popping my now tear-filled eyes open.
Blake’s eyes widen.
“You have no idea how this feels. You couldn’t.” I push him away and get up from the couch. “I haven’t put Christmas decorations up in four years for a reason, and it’s a good one.” I turn to face him. “Now you’re here, wanting me to change, pushing me to do something I’m not ready for.”
“Which is why I asked,” Blake says softly. “Why I wanted to do this together, so I could help you through it. Rule number two, remember?”
I sniffle and wipe away a tear. “You want me to be honest? You want that right now?”
“Of course I do.” His tone is pleading.
“Okay, I’ll be honest.” I fold my arms, squaring my shoulders. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to replace all of my and my kids’ Christmas memories with new ones. I don’t want to push Charlie out.”
“I’m not trying to push Charlie out.”
“Aren’t you, though? You suggest we get all new decorations, pay for all of them, come here and think you can put stuff wherever you want. You’ve made this intoyourthing, notours,when it’s always been Charlie’s.”
Blake’s mouth drops open, but no words come out. The hurt in his eyes is hard to look at, but right now, I don’t care.
“I think you should leave,” I say, turning my head away.
“Maggie, please. I never wanted–”
“Please, Blake. Go home.”
He lets out a deep, defeated exhale, but says nothing as he grabs his coat and walks out the door. I crumble onto the floor into a blubbering pile of tears, shaking with anger and fear.
The hours tick by, but I don’t move from my kitchen table. I haven’t eaten or drank anything. Pretty much all I’ve done is cry since Blake left. All the decorations he bought are still in the bag by the front door. I don’t have the strength to look at them, let alone throw them out.
How dare he come here and try to make our Christmas into his.
The lock on the front door clicks, and I wipe my face, trying to save it in front of my kids.
“Mom! We’re home!”
Relief washes over me at the sound of Sydney’s voice. My children are home safe. They come into the kitchen after tossing their backpacks on the floor, but when Syd furrows her eyebrows at me, I’m suddenly tense again. She’s so damn intuitive.
“How was school, guys?” I ask in my most un-shaky voice.
Dylan chimes right in, “We had snacks and movies all day!”
I smile at his whimsy. “Good, Dyl-pickle. And, Syd, how about you?”
“Same,” she replies, opening the fridge. “What’s for dinner? Is Blake coming over?”
My breath catches at his name. “I– I don’t know. We didn’t talk about it.”
She turns her head out of the fridge, an incredulous look on her face. “Talk about it? You never talk about it. He just shows up.”
“Well, maybe you don’t hear us talk about it.” I’m being snippy.
“Mom, can Trevor come over to play video games?” Dylan asks, either unaware of or ignoring the tension in the room.
I groan internally. “Yes, sweetheart. It’s winter break, after all.” I’m glad Dylan found a friend, but I’m not prepared for guests. I can’t punish him for my bad mood, though. “I’ll call his mom in a minute. Why don’t you go put your school stuff away.”