No, I couldn’t continue on like this, nor would Collin. And while I’d miss the comfort Dex provides, I wanted Collin more than I wanted comfort. Besides, the writing was on the wall. On the night I made my decision, I found a shirt of Dex’s that had slipped behind the laundry machine. When I went to put it in the wash, I noticed a stain on the collar. At first I thought it was paint. Deep red, it had the tinge of a tube of burnt umber acrylic. But then I took a closer look, and I saw it for what it really was: a smudge of lipstick. I could even smell the perfume lingering on the fabric. I shook my head then, deciding instantly that I would no longer participate in a marriage built on deceit.
I’d write Mama, of course. I’d explain everything to her in a letter. She would be hurt. She’d never understand how I could leave a man like Dexter Wentworth. It wouldn’t make sense to her, but it would to me. And that’s all that mattered.
After I hang up the phone, I glance out the side window to Collin’s houseboat. I hope to catch him before Bach on the Dock to let him know that Dex has returned. I don’t want him to worry. Nothing will change our plans. But I don’t see any trace of Collin, and then I realize the sailboat’s gone. At first, I panic. Where did he go? Then I take a deep breath and consider that he must have taken it out to make sure everything’s shipshape for our departure. Our departure. I bite my lip, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that I am really going through with this. And the thought of the two of us sailing out of Lake union tonight makes my heart beat faster.
Chapter 24
ADA
I look up at Alex seated beside me at the restaurant table. The Space Needle has rotated a full 360 degrees, and now it’s turning our view toward Elliott Bay, where a ferry is sailing out of the harbor, perhaps to Bainbridge Island to the west. Alex’s eyes are big and attentive, and he waits for me to speak. I don’t know if I feel brave enough to tell him, but somehow I know I must. I hear Joanie’s and Dr. Evinson’s voices in my ear. I hear James’s and Ella’s voices, too. I feel that they’re near. Alex waits patiently.
Two years prior
I’m sitting on the bed in our room at the Waterbrook Inn, typing on my laptop. I have two hundred more words to write and I’ll have a first draft, and then I can finally play a little on this working vacation. James and Ella have been saints, keeping busy with trail walks and other activities while I work. Sunrise sent us here to scope out what is quickly becoming known as the hottest family destination on the East Coast. With its enormous property and access to the falls, I’ve decided that it definitely lives up to the reputation, and the article is shaping up to be a favorable one.
Ella bounds into the bedroom and leaps onto the bed. Her pigtails are lopsided, so I straighten them. That dark, silky hair. She’s an Italian beauty, like her nonna. “Mommy,” she says, smiling to reveal a missing front tooth. “Daddy says we can go out for ice cream.”
“Oh, does he?” It’s only an hour past breakfast, and I feel a little annoyed with James. He spoils her, and he has no plans to change his ways. I love this about him, and yet at times I feel like the odd woman out—the naysayer, the party pooper, the one who’s always eschewing fun for the practical. I sigh. So what if he says yes to ice cream more than I’d like? At the end of the day, I know that Ella’s the happiest little girl in the world because James is the kind of daddy who says yes. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ella nods and jumps up and down. Her pink tutu flounces beneath her. “I want chocolate,” she says. “With sprinkles.”
I save the draft of the article in progress, then turn around to face her again. “Sprinkles, huh?”
She pulls my arm. “Come on, Mommy. Let’s go.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to finish this article.”
“Mommy,” she whines. “You always have to finish an article.”
She’s right. And I feel the familiar pang of guilt that I’ve felt since the day she was born. The one that sneaks up whenever I’m doing anything but being her mom.
“Just give me twenty minutes,” I say. “I’ll finish this up and we can all go out together.”
James appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt. A recent trip to Mexico has turned his skin a deeper shade of olive, the way it did on our honeymoon in Italy. He grins at me. “You coming?”
“Give me fifteen?”
Ella runs to James and he scoops her into his arms. She’s small for her age, petite in stature but not spirit. “Mama said I can have sprinkles,” she says.