The Seven Husbands of Taylor Swift

50

TAYLOR SWIFT
It's been about a month since Alice and Luca moved in with us, and I'm still unsure what her plans are—if she's thinking about leaving soon or if she's planning to stay for longer. I want to ask, but at the same time, I don't. Our relationship is too delicate, too complicated. I've only known her for such a short time, and I don't want to risk pushing her away by bringing up anything uncomfortable. The whole situation is a balancing act, and I'm terrified of tipping it in the wrong direction.

I want to be closer to her. Every day, I feel that urge growing stronger. But then I think about London and Paris. London is struggling with it. Not only Alice being his sister but also Luca being around. And there's Travis—he's been supportive, but I know where he stands. He's made it clear that Alice isn't my responsibility, that my focus should be on our family.

But where do you draw the line when it comes to family? None of this makes sense to me, and I find myself constantly questioning where the boundaries should be.

Alice left about an hour ago to drop Luca off at her ex's house. That poor boy didn't want to go. He begged Alice to let him stay, his little voice pleading as he clutched his teddy bear and looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. It broke my heart to see it. He wanted to stay and play with the cats, cuddle with Duchess, or run around with Bigby, who, despite his size, has become surprisingly gentle with Luca. And he was looking forward to eating the special chicken nuggets London loves—the ones I make from scratch because he says no frozen brand ever gets them quite right.

But Alice had to take him. She didn't have a choice. Her temporary custody agreement is already a mess, and her ex is constantly on her about sticking to the schedule. Luca cried as they left, and Alice looked so defeated. I wanted to comfort her, tell her that everything was going to be okay, but what do I know about co-parenting? What do I know about navigating the mess her life has become?

Apparently, Alice is now fighting with her parents over the divorce. She told them a couple weeks ago. I don't understand it. Her parents have always seemed so supportive, so loving. I thought they'd be on her side no matter what. But I was wrong. They love her, yes, but they're mad at her. Furious, really. They see the divorce as her fault, her decision, and they can't forgive her for that. It's like they're stuck in this old-world mentality where divorce is the ultimate failure.

Alice doesn't talk about it much, but I can see how much it hurts her. The way she stares off sometimes, lost in thought, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. I want to reach out to her, to tell her I'm here, but I don't know if she's ready to let me in like that. I don't know if she ever will be.

A few hours pass, and the apartment is quiet again, but my mind isn't. It's like a storm that refuses to calm. I sit by the window, staring out at the city, sipping coffee that's gone cold. Every time I try to focus on something else, Alice's face pops into my head—her tired eyes, her worn-out expression, the way she hesitated before telling me anything about her struggles. It's hard to watch someone you care about unravel, especially when you don't know how to help.

The front door clicks open, and Alice walks back in. She looks even more exhausted than when she left. I hear her sigh, dropping her keys onto the small table near the entrance, and I can tell she's holding back tears.

"How did it go?" I ask, trying to keep my voice soft, as if anything louder might shatter her already fragile state.

Alice shrugs, not meeting my eyes. "Same as always. He doesn't make it easy."

I nod, unsure of what to say. "You want to talk about it?"

For a moment, she just stands there, staring at the floor. Then she finally looks up at me, and her voice cracks. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."