Chapter 10 - LILY’S CHOICE
Back at the Concord cottage,
the atmosphere was a stark contrast of warmth,
laughter,
and healing.
Lily had spent the last three days immersed in her sketchbook,
sketching the weeping willows that fringed the lake shore while I rested on the porch with my prenatal yoga books.
The tension that had once defined her posture had completely melted away,
replaced by the relaxed grace of a teenager rediscovering her joy.
On Friday afternoon,
Rebecca drove up to the cottage,
bringing homemade lemon tarts and official paperwork from her legal office.
We sat around the pine table while Aunt Clare poured fresh iced tea.
“Ethan is currently spiraling into a full-scale professional and personal meltdown,
” Rebecca announced with a dry,
satisfied smile,
taking a sip of her tea.
“His partners are threatening to strip his partnership,
Madison dumped him via text message yesterday afternoon,
and his parents refuse to let him visit unless I supervise.
” Lily looked down at her glass of iced tea,
tracing the condensation with her fingertip.
“Does he know about us?” Lily asked quietly.
“He knows you hate what he did,
” Rebecca replied gently,
reaching across the table to squeeze her daughter’s hand.
“And he knows you’re staying here with Norah and me for the foreseeable future.
” Lily looked up at me,
her eyes shining with unshed tears of relief.
“Can I officially stay here,
Norah?” she whispered.
“At least until the baby is born?” “You never even have to ask,
Lily,
” I smiled,
leaning over to embrace her tightly.
“This is your home as much as mine.
” Later that evening,
Lily received a frantic text message from Ethan: <i>Please,
Lily,
just come home.
Let's talk.
</i> Lily stared at the glowing screen for a long moment,
feeling none of the guilt or obligation that had weighed her down for months.
She typed her reply with steady,
unhesitating fingers: <i>I’m staying with Norah and Mom.
Don't call me until you figure out how to be an honest person.
</i> She hit send,
blocked his number,
May you like
and placed her phone face down on the table.
The silence that followed wasn't lonely; it was liberating.
