David’s next message: Don’t worry. We’ll be safe and buy him a helmet.
How nice. They had the kind of money to go buying helmets for kids who had nothing to do with them. Like that was supposed to make it better.
Bitterness, frustration, and jealousy all simmered at a low boil, licking heat through her veins. The worst part was she knew Parker would love it. He wouldn’t know how vindictive these people really were. He wouldn’t get that he was just a pawn in their game, a pawn in his father’s attempts to one-up Saylor.
The truth was, she couldn’t give him this. She couldn’t give him an adventurous life with cabins and huge Christmas trees and snowmobiles, not when she had to work eight hours a day, not when she barely made enough to buy him measly Hamburger Helper boxed dinners that she was too exhausted to fix for him by the time she picked him up from daycare.
“You okay?” Darcy asked, resting a hand on her arm and jerking her to reality. Saylor stared into her friend’s concerned dark eyes. Darcy’s expression was the last straw. Tears blurred Saylor’s vision. She shook her head, cupping her cell phone between her hands.
The phone at Saylor’s desk rang, but she adjusted her settings and paused all calls so they would defer to another cubicle. The shaking in her hands spread through the rest of her. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
Shelly appeared at their boxed entrance. She crooked a hand at one hip, a look of mild boredom on her face which left her eyes half-closed. They opened fully the minute she saw Saylor.
“Everything okay here?” she asked.
Saylor hurried to scrub away the tears. Darcy turned to answer her ringing line, the sound shrill and suddenly piercing.
Saylor waited for Shelly to deride or make a comment about the effect men had on her when they visited her at work. This wasn’t about Cole, but she wasn’t about to explain anything here where so many ears could overhear.
“I think I need to take my break,” Saylor managed. Several seconds passed before Shelly’s gaze softened. She stepped back, motioning with her head.
Darcy quickly grasped Saylor’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Saylor patted her hand, grateful for the gesture. Darcy knew some of her drama with David, as did her manager.
With her head down, she followed Shelly into her office at the end of the long room. Several heads peered over the edges of their cubicles, which only made Saylor lower hers. She must’ve looked like some kind of punished dog at the pound.
Shelly waited for her to enter first, then closed the door behind them. A wall of shelves rigidly offset several plaques and awards hanging near the window. A picture of several cute kids smiled at Saylor from beside the phone on Shelly’s very clean desk.
“What happened?” she asked, sitting on the edge of that desk.
Saylor steeled herself, working to regulate her breathing and gain some semblance of control. Shelly had been the perfect blend of manager and friend, hearing the employees’ complaints while still maintaining a professional distance. Saylor figured she wouldn’t fault her for her meltdown—it wasn’t like it happened all the time.
“I just need a minute. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Is it David?” She folded her arms.
Saylor sniffled, not wanting to confirm it aloud for fear she might crumble again. She could only nod. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
Shelly loitered a bit longer, but when Saylor didn’t elaborate, she made her way to the door.
“I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” she said in a moment of kindness. “Ten minutes. Tops.”
Saylor couldn’t manage to thank her. Instead, she lost it. Her constant battle with hopelessness checkmated, and hopelessness won in a way she let it only once before. In a way she’d promised herself she’d never sink to again. But she sank, treading water and failing, bobbing, gasping for air.
The tears spilled down her cheeks. Her lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe. Her mind dredged up all kinds of history, all kinds of memories, attempting to make sense of these emotions when they made no sense at all.
“This will be okay,” she told herself the way her therapist devised the last time this happened, when another man she loved told her he didn’t want to be with her. It was so long ago, clear back in high school, and as a foolish eighteen-year-old girl, she’d let it consume her. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let that happen again. Not over a man, not again.
But this wasn’t about a man, this was about her son. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him.
She practiced her breathing, something she was grateful no one was around to watch. Shelly must have known—Saylor would never get this level of privacy in the breakroom.
In between long, slow breaths, Saylor began listing all the positives, the way she’d trained her brain to do.
Parker should have a relationship with his dad, she told herself first. She’d worried how the divorce would affect him, having to split his time and weekends between his parents. Having more time with his dad would make things easier for him.
It’s good for us to be apart for a few days. Another half-truth; being around the same person twenty-four-seven could be taxing, even if it was someone you loved.
David hadn’t said her parents would take him on their own. He would be there too. Parker would be with his dad.
And that was what mattered. Parker.
She inhaled again and crossed to the window. Weakness overtook her muscles, and she sank her head against the cool glass and hugged her arms around her chest. I’ll get him back. Things will be okay.
A bird haphazardly smacked its beak against the glass with a loud, unexpected thump. Saylor jumped back, nerves pumping in surprise. Fortunately, it recovered and flapped away, realizing its mistake too late.
The cars below trekked in a
