My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 11

My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 11

Bonus Chapter — Thayer

I lied to Izzy.

It did not rain in Port Aster that day.

I only saw a girl who looked scared, and I wanted to help.

She wore a white dress and had been cornered by several men near the curb.

For a second, she reminded me of Izzy in high school, back when a group of boys had blocked her after class.

I stopped the car and shouted at them.

The men scattered.

The girl trembled as she cried. Her voice was soft, with a faint Port Aster drawl.

“Sir, thank you.”

I looked at her and unlocked the car.

“Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

She told me her name was Coralie Venn.

After that, it was like opening Pandora’s box.

I stayed in Port Aster one more day.

By the time I returned, Izzy had already said goodbye to her mother

—

without me.

Izzy cried in my arms until her voice broke, and still, she remembered to worry about me.

“Did the rain in Port Aster hurt your knee?”

Izzy trusted me that much.

If she had checked the weather even once, she would have known it had not rained in Port Aster at all.

I shook my head and held her tighter.

The day Coralie told me she was pregnant, I had just bought Izzy a foot massager.

Her feet always hurt during pregnancy.

When I saw the joy on Coralie’s face, I frowned.

The truth was, I did not want that child.

There were medical risks. At least, that was what I told myself.

She asked me whether I wanted her to end the pregnancy.

I should have said yes.

I should have protected my marriage.

Instead, I stayed silent.

So the children were born.

A boy and a girl.

—

My assistant said I was lucky. A son and a daughter.

Coralie complained that I wasn’t there for her after delivery, so I hired a private postpartum nurse and booked an entire recovery suite just for her.

At home, Izzy watched me feed our son, her eyes red from exhaustion, and looked at me like I was the best man in the world.

“Thayer Wescott, you’re such a good husband. Such a good father.”

She curled against me, rubbing against my chest.

Her hair brushed softly against my chin. It made me laugh.

“Stop it, Izzy.”

I held my phone and replied to Coralie’s messages.

More than a dozen photos came through.

All of them were of my daughter.

Sweet. Small. Lovely.

[Children grow so fast. She looks different every day. I wonder when she’ll finally get to meet her father.]

[Soon. But why are you only sending pictures of my daughter? Let me see the woman who did all the hard work.]

Coralie sent a photo almost immediately.

After giving birth, Coralie looked softer, fuller, more dangerous in a way I did not want to admit.

—

Izzy slapped the phone out of my hand, pouting.

“What are you looking at? You’re ignoring me.”

My throat worked.

I kissed her hard.

“Work.”

Then I lowered my voice.

“Izzy, I want you.”

I thought having two homes meant I had won.

I only wished none of it would ever break.

Izzy.

Trust me a little longer.

—

But trust was never something you could ask for.

It was something you earned.

And I had spent years betraying hers without even realizing it.

I thought I could have both. I thought I could keep Izzy in the dark and Coralie at arm’s length. I thought I was being clever.

I was just being cruel.

The night Izzy ran out into the snow, I saw the truth in her eyes.

She had finally stopped trusting me.

And I had finally lost her.

Now I sat in an empty house, staring at the divorce papers she had signed.

Tavish was asleep upstairs. The house was quiet.

I picked up the papers and read her name one more time.

Isolde Wescott.

Soon, it would be Isolde something else.

And I would have no one to blame but myself.

I set the papers down and walked to the window.

Outside, the snow was still falling.

I thought about the snowman she had built alone.

A little ugly.

But hers.

And I realized, too late, that I had never really deserved her.