“Thank you.” She already felt like she was trespassing. Digging through Amber’s things, learning about Amber and Matt’s life—thank God Charity was here. She flipped off the kitchen lights and tugged the wagon down the hall. The exterior wall was mostly windows, giving her a clear view of the outside world. A world she didn’t belong in. She hurried along, eager to find the nursery.
Considering how very white everything was, the grouping of photos on the interior wall stopped her. Amber and Matt on some snow-covered mountain somewhere. They’d gone to Paris and Italy… A picture of Amber pregnant. And one of the three of them. She knew Matt’s smiles like the back of her hand. These were real smiles. He’d been happy in this new, whitewashed world.
It hurt like hell. It shouldn’t matter that he’d worn that same happy smile for her. But, dammit, it did. There had been so many smiles and special moments and fun travels and real-life struggles they’d made it through together. Seventeen years, a substantial length of time, and there wasn’t a shred of evidence here that those years had existed. They’d been erased, leaving his past as blank as these walls. How empty that would feel to her. Whatever pain he’d caused her, their children deserved his presence in their lives. So she’d refused to take down family pictures or, as her mother pleaded, to physically cut him out of them. She couldn’t pretend they’d invested that time, love, and energy into a life that never existed. It had, and she treasured those memories.
Holding on to the hurt and blame and anger now didn’t make any sense. Whatever had happened between her and Matt was done. She wanted to let go. She needed to—so she could move on.
“I found a box with Jack’s name on it. Amber must’ve had OCD; you should see her office. Upside, she was super organized.” Charity peeked out of the room and saw her staring at the pictures. She joined her. “Ugh. Filly, don’t. Do you honestly think he was going to stay with her? Forever?”
“I don’t know.” Felicity took the picture of Jack and his parents off the wall. He’d want to know who his parents were. “I never thought that way, you know. Matt was gone. If he had come back—how would I have been able to live with him? There’d always be this fear he’d leave again…” She took a picture of Matt and Amber and tucked the photos into another bag. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“You know what I think?” Charity asked, joining her in the hall.
Felicity glanced at her sister, smiling. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You do.” Charity nodded. “You really do.”
“Go on.” She could hardly wait.
“First, I know she had a boob job.” Charity leaned forward for a better view of Amber’s perky chest.
Felicity laughed. “Charity…”
“That was mean, so sue me. But it leads me to number two. Which is, you’re gorgeous—natural boobs and all. I think it’s time you started to act like the beautiful, amazing single woman you are. You need to put yourself out there.” She stared her sister right in the eye. “Date.”
“Sure.” Felicity shook her head and walked down the hallway, peering into each room, searching for the nursery. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“I’m not going to let up on this.” Charity trailed behind her. “I’m worried about you.”
“And dating will make you not worry about me?” She groaned. “It’s not like I’ve had to fight off all the interested men.” Which was a relief. Just thinking about dating terrified her.
“You’re not exactly giving off ‘available’ vibes.”
“What does that even mean?” She shot her sister a look and pushed open a door on the right.
“Do you go anywhere without your kids? Other than PTA meetings or church or the family business? You know, places single men go?” Charity paused. “Wait, this is Pecan Valley we’re talking about. Tell Widow Rainey. She’ll have a screened list of interested, respectable men in no time.”
Find a single man herself, or put her fate in Widow Rainey’s hands? She wasn’t sure which option was more terrifying. The last door opened into the nursery. “Finally.” She blinked, eyeing the less-than-warm room. “What did Amber have against color?”
The nursery was just as white as the rest of the apartment. White curtains with a black-and-white-checked border hung in the window. A black-and-white-checked rug lay on the floor in front of the crib. Above the crib, Jack’s name was stenciled in bold block print. A white rocking chair sat in the corner, complete with one black throw pillow. And his toys were stored in black-and-white bins on white painted shelves. Even his linens were white.
Except one. Felicity’s lungs deflated at the sky-blue blanket shoved into the corner of the crib. Tiny gray sheep leaped over white fluffy clouds. She didn’t have to touch the blanket to know how soft it was—it was exactly like the blanket Nick had when he was a baby. How many times had she and Matt scrambled to find the thing that soothed Nick when he was teething? Or washed it until it was threadbare, only to stitch the beloved blankie together for just a little bit longer. Retiring it had been a milestone for the whole family.
Seeing tha
t blanket, knowing Matt would have had to search for it, tugged at the thinning strands of her self-control. She gripped the blanket in her hands and stared at the oh-so-familiar print. This meant something—but she’d never know what.
Because Matt was gone. Not with Amber, not traveling or off living a new life…but gone. Forever. And the reality of that crashed into her. She’d hoped there was time. Not for her, but her kids. He’d come around again, miss them, want them back in his life—she’d believed that. And when that happened, he would have done whatever it took to make amends for the damage he’d caused. But now…
Matt’s gone. The words pressed in on her, the piercing grief sudden and undeniable. It hurt to breathe. Gripping the crib, blinking back angry tears, swallowing down all the sadness and frustration she’d been battling since leaving Matt’s hospital room was nearly impossible.
How could she ever make this better? For Nick and Honor and now Jack?
“Maybe Amber was color blind?” Charity asked.
Felicity jumped, staring at her sister.
“You okay?” Charity’s gaze fell to the blanket she was holding to her chest. “Oh, man…” She sighed. “I remember that thing.”