Page 26 of Don't Think

“They’re good! Just the usual sister rivalry,” he says with a light laugh.

I smile, surprised by how much lighter I feel just hearing that.

“Good. I’m glad. I miss them so much already,” I admit softly.

“I know, Allie. They miss you too.” He pauses. “But hey, you’re on vacation. You should be focusing onyou, you know? And also…”

Suddenly the smile I had? Gone. Because somehow, I already know what’s coming next.

“You know, it might be harder on them if you call too much. I’m not saying don’t call at all, just… maybe ease up a little. Let them settle in.”

Is he serious?

How am I not supposed tocall? They’re going to think I just left them. That I didn’t want to be around anymore. Or worse… that Mommy needed a break… fromthem.

But one thing I have to realize is he’s not completely wrong. Thisishis time, and I have to respect that. Even if every part of me hates it.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to get any words out. “Yeah... You might be right,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“They’re beautiful, Allie. You’ve done a great job. Especially, while I was staying with Ryan. I know the last couple of years were rough. And I’m not saying you can’t talk to them at all. Just… maybe we can come up with a little schedule? I’ll text you about it.”

Tears sting, but I blink them back fast. “Okay,” I say, almost choking on the word.

“Alright. Go have fun, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

Then—click. The line goes dead. And suddenly, I’ve never felt more alone.

I know he isn’ttryingto be a jerk by telling me not to call so much. Deep down, I get it. But the resentment still creeps in regardless.

This is his time, sure, but what about all the time I’ve put in? Every meltdown, every bedtime story and early morningsnuggle. All the blood, sweat, and sleepless nights I’ve poured into raising these girls and shaping them into kind, beautiful little humans.

Not being able to hug them? Kiss them? Justbe thereevery day? That’s a special kind of torture he’ll never truly understand.

He has no idea what the last two years have been like for us. The three of us were practically sewn together while he sorted out his life. Crashing at places that weren’t safe for the girls to be… or the people didn’twantthem around.

Now that he has his own place, it’s like everything changed. Almost like he’s trying to slowly edge me out of the picture somehow. But to limit my phone calls? I would never—ever—do that to him.

It’s times like these that I can’t help but miss the man I fell for all those years ago. The one who’d turn any random Tuesday into a date night. Who would drop everything just to make me feel special. Who would pull me close and make it feel like the whole world could fall apart, and I’d still be safe in his arms.

But then the girls were born, and nothing was the same again.

There were no more dates. No more lazy mornings curled up in bed. It all turned into constant complaints about how I didn’t cook the way he liked or how he wastoo tiredfrom working to help with… well,anything.

He doesn’t understand that when we broke up, I didn’t just lose a partner. I lost the future I thought we were building. Leaving him wasn’t something Iwanted.It was something Ihadto do. Because when you have two little girls watching your every move, relying on you to show them what love and strength really look like… You can’t let someone you love walk all over you.

The phone suddenly feels like a thousand pounds in my hand. Like it’s sinking me straight into the floor. The longer I sit here holding it, the more tempting it sounds to just crawl back into bed and stay there until this whole vacation is over.

Of course, if I did that, Ana or Nora would drag me out by my toes. Although… right now? That almost feels worth it.

Then I remember—we’re going to the damn beach. And if I back out now, getting dragged by my toes will be theleastof my problems.

I push my coffee away, then lean my elbows on the table and blow out a long, slow breath, trying my hardest to exhale all the heaviness sitting in my chest.

That’s what my mother always taught me: inhale the good, exhale the bad.

I know everything will be okay eventually. It’s just a matter of convincing myself to believe it. So I give myself permission to wallow for ten more minutes. Ten minutes to feel sorry for myself and miss my girls. But after that? I need to pull it together and pretend like my heart isn’t breaking in ways I don’t even know how to explain.

The entire drive to the beach, I was stuck in my own head. Mentally giving myself a pep talk while Ana and Nora screamed along to whatever was playing on the radio.