Taylor Lynne: The Women of Merryton - Book Two by Jennifer Peel Page B

little family.”
    Easton inched forward and
leaned in. It made me freeze in place and hold my breath. I hadn’t been this
close to him in ages, and my body reacted in a way it hadn’t felt in years. Apparently
there was still electricity between us. I wondered if he felt it too.
     “You’ve been more of a
mother to Emmy these past few days than her own mother’s been to her in the
last few years,” he said in my ear. “I know I don’t deserve to ask this of you,
but Emmy needs your help.”
    He stepped back, and for
a moment I stared into his pleading brown eyes. I didn’t sign up for this. I
wasn’t strong enough to do this. All I could do was walk toward the door.
    He followed after me. “So
your place or mine?”

Chapter Five
     
    The brochure about how to
live in the same town with your ex-husband was false advertisement to the very
core. I expected us to remain apathetic, as the brochure had promised. Easton
had different plans; he must have picked up the wrong brochure. His brochure
read that we should spend as much time together as possible and that you should
guilt your ex-wife into it by using your children.
    Ashley and Emmy both
thought Sunday dinners were a terrific idea. I disagreed, but I was once again
made to feel like the bad guy when I resisted the idea. I ended up being
guilted into it by my daughter, who thought I was behaving selfishly and
ruining it for everyone else. I wasn’t trying to be selfish. I was trying to be
self-preserving. Being around Easton killed me. Ashley had no idea what it was
like to be in love with the same man for half of your life while not being able
to be with him. And worse, hating him for hurting me and watching him move on
with someone else; and hating him because I still loved him. I couldn’t tell
her all of that. That secret was only shared with the dead.
    That night I found myself
at my ex-husband’s enormous house on the south side of town. I’ll admit I was a
tad jealous when Ashley and I pulled up. Easton and I used to talk about our
dream house often. It looked nothing like the home in front of me. Our home was
going to look like a farmhouse, complete with a wraparound porch. The interior
was going to have wood clad ceilings, walls, and floors. We were going to raise
our babies there and live happily ever after. Once again, I got the wrong
brochure. Instead of the “happily ever after” brochure, I should have chosen
the “this is real life” brochure.
    I knew life wasn’t a
fairytale, my childhood had taught me that. I knew marriage wasn’t a fairytale.
Marriage was hard, especially being married to a med student and then a doctor.
I knew Easton wasn’t Prince Charming, even though at times I thought he came
pretty close, but I never dreamed we would have ended up living separate lives.
I never would have imagined him cheating on me. But who does?
    I wanted to stay in the
car. I didn’t want to see inside Easton’s home or peek into his life without
me. But Ashley wouldn’t let me, so I proceeded onward with a mixed green salad
tossed with a citrus vinaigrette in hand. I took note of everything as we
walked toward the house. For starters, the landscaping was xeriscape style.
While it had its own beauty and environmental benefits, it was not my style. I
loved green grass, colorful flowers, and large shade trees. I was a southern
girl at heart. The home’s exterior was adobe, which I wasn’t a huge fan of
either. But really, did it matter? I kept telling myself to knock it off. We
had lived apart for many years. He moved on and so should I.
    We knocked on the mission
style door and were greeted by a smiling Easton. He looked too pleased to see
us. He invited us into his expansive home. He was warm, but the house seemed
cold and uninviting. Everywhere I looked it was dark, whether it was the
furniture or the tiled floor that covered what looked like the entire first
floor. The best word I could use to describe it was “sterile.” It didn’t