The Bitter Truth Behind My False Infertility and the Family I Lost
“How was your week?” Maren asked, looking at me over her glass of water.
“Busy,” I said. “But the papers are signed. The divorce is final.”
A quiet fell over the table, save for the sound of Lila’s fork scraping her plate.
Maren nodded slowly, a small tension leaving her jaw.
“Is that a good thing?” Lila asked, looking between us.
“It is,” I said. “It means we can all start moving forward.”
After dinner, I helped Maren wash the dishes, standing elbow-to-elbow in the narrow kitchen.
My hands were in the soapy water, scrubbing a casserole dish, while she dried.
“I talked to a real estate agent today,” I said, not looking at her.
She paused, her dish towel hovering over a plate.
“Oh?” she said.
“There’s a house for sale about three miles down the road,” I said. “Near the lighthouse.”
“That’s the old Henderson place,” she said. “It needs a lot of work.”
“I have the time,” I said, rinsing the dish and setting it in the rack. “And I want to be close.”