Wish Upon A Sunset

Family Reunion

Emma

Déjà vu hit hard as I pulled into the driveway and shut off my parents' car just as the rain pinged the windshield. Thank God they had let me borrow it today, as the drive from my apartment had been a long one. I couldn't tell if Zack was home or not because the garage door directly in front of me was shut, but I assumed he would be, considering that it was visitation day. It was also late enough in the afternoon that Tristan should be out of school.

Glancing at the single-story, cottage-style house in front of me, I flinched in disgust. There had been a time when this had been home, when I had fawned over its quaint and cozy charm, but now it just felt like another prison, albeit a high-class one.

When we were looking to purchase, this one had fit our needs perfectly. I had been against anything ostentatious, and so Zackary and I had compromised on this place; still lavish enough to suit Zack's expensive taste and humble enough that I didn't feel like a complete show-off.

Or a complete fake.

A dog barked somewhere down the street and I jumped, realizing I had been sitting there, staring at my faux-prison, for longer than I should have. I glanced in the rearview mirror and pushed the stray, light auburn hairs that had escaped from my ponytail back behind my ears. Dark circles underneath my eyes stared back at me, and I desperately wished for some concealer.

Though my bed in my new apartment was surprisingly comfortable, the sound of traffic outside began early in the morning and made it difficult to sleep in. Combined with the anxiety I had felt all night about today's visitation, I had a restless and fitful sleep.

"Okay, you got this, Emma," I told myself, even though my stomach clenched with dread. I'd only seen Grace once while I had been in prison and Tristan twice. It was strange to feel nervous to see the people you had carried to term and took care of when they were babies.

Steadying my resolve, I stepped out of the car and locked it behind me before making my way up to the front door.

The heat of the house surrounded me as I stepped inside, and I shook off the chill from outside. Breathing in the smell of vanilla and laundry detergent, my heart hurt because the last time I had been in this house, it had smelled like baby powder. But that was long gone. My kids were too old now for baby powder.

I wore the new blouse and slacks that Molly had gotten me, as my only other option was the ugly sweatsuit from prison. I tugged the hem of the jacket self-consciously as I walked further into the open, airy space, and I could hear the enthusiastic shouting of a sports announcer coming from the living room area.

Exiting the tiled foyer onto the plush cream carpet, I saw the massive flat-screen TV across from the white L-shaped couch Zack and I had splurged on years ago, its buttery leather now faded in spots. The decadence of the place reminded me of how difficult it had been for me trying to fit into his lifestyle.

While he had been raised with money and had everything handed to him, I had grown up witnessing my parents' financial struggles and their determination to build their own business through hard work and perseverance. They hadn't been rich, but they had been comfortable, and they had done it all themselves. The values they instilled in me made it difficult for me to embrace Zachary's way of life.

Especially when I knew there were people who gossiped behind my back, saying that I had married him for his money. But honestly, that had never really interested me that much. I would have married Zack regardless; that's how in love with him I had been. And he had been worthy of my love. Charm and looks aside, he had been kind to me when we first got together. Considerate and funny, and I swore I was the luckiest person on the planet. It wasn't his wealth I had fallen for; it was his warmth.