Chapter 3

Nolan came to the clinic the next morning carrying everything he should have brought the night before. Ivy's purple backpack hung from his shoulder. He held two hot chocolates in one hand and a silver-wrapped Christmas gift in the other. He stopped when he saw the nebulizer beside her bed. The color left his face. Ivy sat up, and relief brightened her tired eyes. "Daddy." He crossed the room. He set everything down and pulled Ivy into his arms. Ivy did not hug him back at first. Her hands remained around the backpack straps. Nolan closed his eyes against her hair. His fear was real. So was what he had done. "I'm so sorry, bug," he murmured into her hair. He pulled the silver gift box on her lap. "Daddy brought you something." Ivy lowered her eyes. He placed the inhaler on the bedside table. "I should have returned with this,I was wrong." he said. "But her rescue medication has to stay with her, Reese. We both failed to check the bag." I looked at the man I had loved for a decade. He was standing in a room where our daughter had nearly died, and his primary concern was making sure the guilt was evenly distributed. The doctor arrived before I answered. He explained that Ivy's breathing had remained stable after the second treatment. She could leave after one final examination, but she needed rest and close monitoring. Nolan listened without interrupting. He wrote down every instruction on his phone. Then he gave Ivy the hot chocolate and placed the silver box on her lap. "We'll go home together," he promised. "We can watch your Christmas movie and open this on the couch." Ivy ran one finger beneath the ribbon. She did not smile, but she kept the box close. For a moment, I wanted to believe him too. Then Elaine called. Nolan moved toward the window. His shoulders tightened as he listened. The tow company had taken Maren's rental to a garage. The cabin manager wanted everyone out by noon. Elaine, Howard, Maren, and Lola had no way down the mountain. When Nolan ended the call, he reached for his coat. "You are here to take your daughter home."I said. "I know. I'll collect them and come straight back. The roads may close again, and my parents can't stay there." "Nolan," I said, my voice dangerously flat. "You promised Ivy you would personally drive her home." "Reese, it's a one-hour detour. Tops." He reached out to squeeze my shoulder, but I stepped back. His hand fell to his side. "I will be right back. Just get the paperwork finished." He crouched beside Ivy’s bed and adjusted the blanket over her legs. "I'll be back before the discharge papers are ready." Ivy looked down at the silver box. "Before we leave?" Nolan kissed her forehead. "I promise. One hour." He walked out. The clinic clock passed ten. Then ten-thirty. The hot chocolate cooled untouched. A brown ring dried beneath the lid. Ivy sat in her coat with the backpack still on. At eleven-fifteen, Nolan sent a message. [The SUV is completely full with the luggage.] [Take a rideshare back to the house with Ivy. I will reimburse you for the cost.] [Maren's car won't be ready for several days, so they will stay with us for a few days. Put Lola in Ivy's room. Ivy can sleep with you.] First, he had given away Ivy's seat. Now he was giving away her room. "Reese?" Tessa entered with a thick folder beneath one arm. One look at my face was enough. She picked up Ivy's backpack and guided us outside. A borrowed booster seat was strapped into the back of her sedan. "Take us to my house.," I said. "I have exactly thirty minutes before they get there." When Tessa unlocked my front door, the house was perfectly warm and completely quiet. I packed surgically. I took Ivy’s medications. Our passports and birth certificates. The medical reports from the urgent care clinic. My work laptop. Ivy returned from her bedroom with her worn rabbit beneath one arm. The silver gift remained in the center of her bed. She looked at it, switched off the lamp, and walked away. Before walking out the front door, I stopped at the mahogany entryway table. I slipped my diamond wedding ring off my left hand. I set it down on the polished wood. Next to it, I placed the emergency room discharge report detailing Ivy's blood oxygen levels and epinephrine injection. Finally, I laid beside them the separation notice Nia had drafted when I first consulted her six months ago. I pulled out my phone, opened the family tracking app, and tapped the screen. Location Sharing: OFF. I closed the front door behind us. The lock clicked into place, sealing away the last seven years of my life. I climbed into Tessa's car. As she backed out of the driveway and drove away from the neighborhood, my phone screen lit up on my lap. Nolan’s final message appeared. [Thirty minutes away. Make sure Ivy's room is cleaned up, Lola is exhausted.] I just turned the phone face down. He was thirty minutes away from home, worried about making a bed for another woman's daughter. He didn't know yet. This time, there was no one left to make the bed. And there was no one waiting for him to come home.