It Starts with Us (It Ends with Us, #2)

by Colleen Hoover

I decided my separation from Ryle should be permanent after giving birth to Emmy. I asked him for a divorce right after she was born. I wasn’t attempting to be cruel in my timing, I just didn’t know which choice I was going to make until I held her in my arms and knew with every fiber of my being that I would do whatever it took to break the cycle of abuse. Yes, asking for a divorce hurt. Yes, I was heartbroken. But no, I don’t regret it. My choice helped me realize that sometimes the hardest decisions a person can make will most likely lead to the best outcomes.

I want Emmy to bond with her father. I’ve never wanted to keep her from him. I just want to ensure she’s safe, which is why I begged Ryle to agree to day visits for the first couple of years. I never told him outright it’s because I don’t know that I fully trust him with her. I think I might have blamed it on my breastfeeding situation and the fact that he’s on call all the time, but deep down I’m sure he knows why I’ve never wanted her to stay with him overnight. The past abuse is something we don’t talk about. We talk about Emmy, we talk about work, we plaster on smiles when we’re in the presence of our daughter. Sometimes it feels forced and fake, at least on my end, but it’s better than what this could have been had I taken him to court and lost. I’ll fake a smile until she’s eighteen if it means I don’t have to share custody and potentially expose my daughter to the worst parts of her father on a more regular basis.

Not that Ryle deserves the concern I’m currently feeling over this situation, but he has the potential to make my dating life a living hell. Why does Ryle still occupy an entire wall in my many layers of thoughts? That’s what it feels like—as if these wonderful things happen, but as they start to sink in, they eventually reach a part of me that is still making decisions based on Ryle and his potential reactions. His reactions are what I fear the most. I want to hope that he wouldn’t be jealous, but he will be. If I start dating Atlas, he’ll make it difficult for everyone. Even though I know divorce was the right choice, there are still consequences to that choice. And one of those consequences is that Ryle will always look at Atlas like he’s the thing that broke up our marriage. Ryle is the father of my daughter. No matter what man comes and goes in my life from this point forward, Ryle is the one constant that I’ll always have to appease if I want the most peaceful experience for my daughter. And if Atlas Corrigan is back in my life—Ryle will never be appeased. I wish you could tell me what decision to make. Do I sacrifice what I know will make me happy for the sake of avoiding the inevitable disruption Atlas’s presence would cause? Or will I always have an Atlas-shaped hole in my heart unless I allow him to fill it?

“And what if they don’t have a Lily to save them?” It takes a few seconds for what he says to register. When it does, I don’t smile. I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping he can’t see my internal reaction to that. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned I saved him back then, but every time he says it, I want to argue with him. I didn’t save him. All I did was fall in love with him. I can see why I fell in love with him. What owner is more concerned about the situation of the person vandalizing their business than they are with the actual damage being done? “Considerate Atlas,” I whisper.

How do people leave these cycles when they don’t have the resources I had or the support from their friends and family? How do they possibly stay strong enough every second of the day? I feel like all it takes is one weak, insecure moment in the presence of your ex to convince yourself you made the wrong decision. Anyone who has ever left a manipulative, abusive spouse and somehow stayed that course deserves a medal. A statue. A freaking superhero movie.

Marshall looks at me with sincerity. “When I think about Ryle hitting you… I get absurdly angry. Because I love him. I do. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. But I also hate him for not being better. Nothing you have done and nothing you could do would excuse any man’s hands on you out of anger. Remember that, Lily. You made the right choice by leaving that situation. You should never feel guilty for that. Pride is the only thing you should feel.”

I brush my teeth, just in case a hug is a kiss. And then I change clothes twice, until I end up back in the pajamas I had on when I FaceTimed him. I’m trying way too hard to look like I’m not trying too hard. Sometimes being a woman is so dumb.

I know those words get thrown around a lot, especially by teenagers. A lot of times prematurely and without much merit. But when he said them to me, I knew he wasn’t saying it like he was in love with me. It wasn’t that kind of “I love you.” Imagine all the people you meet in your life. There are so many. They come in like waves, trickling in and out with the tide. Some waves are much bigger and make more of an impact than others. Sometimes the waves bring with them things from deep in the bottom of the sea and they leave those things tossed onto the shore. Imprints against the grains of sand that prove the waves had once been there, long after the tide recedes. That was what Atlas was telling me when he said “I love you.” He was letting me know that I was the biggest wave he’d ever come across. And I brought so much with me that my impressions would always be there, even when the tide rolled out.

I grab my phone and take a picture of her to text to Ryle, but I hesitate before hitting send. I don’t miss Ryle at all, but it does make me sad in moments like this that Ryle doesn’t get to do this with us, or that I don’t get to share in the joys they have together. There’s nothing better than adoring the child you made with the person you made them with, which is why I always try to text him pictures and videos. But I’m still upset about last night and don’t really feel like reaching out yet. I save the picture for a more peaceful day. Fucking Ryle. Divorce is difficult. I knew it would be, but it’s so much harder than I anticipated. And navigating divorce with a child in the mix is a million times trickier. You’re stuck interacting with that person for the remainder of your life. You have to either figure out a way to plan birthday parties together or figure out a way to be okay with having separate celebrations. You have to plan on which holidays each of you get to spend with your child, which days of the week, down to which hours of the day sometimes. You can’t snap your fingers and be done with the person you married and divorced. You’re stuck with them. Forever.

But who’s to say I’m capable of something like this? What if I fuck him up more than my mother has?” “You won’t, Atlas. You know you won’t.” He accepts my reassurance with a quick flash of a smile. “That’s easy for you to say; you’re a natural at this whole raising-kids thing.” “I just fake it well,” I say. “I have no idea what I’m doing. No parent does. We’re all full of imposter syndrome, winging it every minute of the day.” “Why is that both comforting and terrifying?” he asks. “You just summed up parenthood with those two words.”

I don’t want to hurt him, but I also don’t want to lie to him, or protect Ryle in any way. Because Atlas is right. That’s exactly why Ryle did what he did, and I hate that Atlas will now forever pair my tattoo with that awful memory. My lack of response is enough confirmation for him. He winces and turns away from me. I can see the deep breath he forces himself to take in order to remain calm. He looks like he wants to explode, but Ryle isn’t here for him to explode on. Atlas is so angry, but this is an anger I’m not afraid of. I realize the significance of this moment. I’m alone with an angry man in my apartment, but I’m not in fear for my life, because he isn’t angry at me. He’s angry at the person who hurt me. It’s a protective anger, and there’s a world of difference between my reactions to Ryle’s anger versus my reaction to Atlas’s anger.

It takes me back to the last night he hurt me. The apologies he was whispering as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My heart is shattered, because Ryle hasn’t changed at all. As much as I hoped he had, and as much as I know he wanted to, he’s still the same man he’s always been. I somehow held on to a sliver of hope that he had become stronger for Emmy, but this is absolute confirmation that I’m making the right choices for her. Ryle is clinging to me like I can make this better, and at one point in time I thought I could. He’s a broken man, but he isn’t broken because of me. He was broken before he met me. Sometimes people think if they love a broken person enough, they can be what finally repairs them, but the problem with that is the other person just ends up broken, too. I can’t afford to allow anyone to break me anymore. I have a daughter I need to be whole for.

I feel very protective of Emmy right now because Ryle has every right on paper to show up and take her from me for the day, but I’m not allowing my daughter around him on a day I know his fuse is nonexistent. I look in my rearview mirror, and Emmy is just sitting peacefully, looking out the window at the rain. She has no idea the kind of chaos that surrounds her existence, because to her, I’m her entire existence. Every ounce of her trust is in me. She depends on me for everything, and she’s just sitting there happy and comfortable, as if I have it all under control.

I realize in this moment that the hardest part about ending an abusive relationship is that you aren’t necessarily putting an end to the bad moments. The bad moments still rear their ugly heads every now and then. When you end an abusive relationship, it’s the good moments you put an end to. In our marriage, the few terrifying incidents were blanketed by so many good ones, but now that our marriage is over, the blanket has lifted and all I’m left with are the worst pieces of him. Where our marriage was once full of heart and flesh that cushioned the skeleton, all that’s left is the skeleton now. Sharp, bony edges that slice right through me.

Lily’s home base is Emerson, and if he still can’t see that, he’s clueless. If Lily had stayed with him, he would have spent the rest of their lives inventing issues in order to justify his excessive anger. Because I was never an issue in their marriage, and I never would have been. I thought I pitied him before, but he’s fighting for a woman he barely even knows, which means he’s just fighting for the sake of fighting. He’s got a very similar personality to my mother, and sometimes there’s no fixing that. You just have to learn to live your life around it.

My loyalty is to the people who bring positivity into my life. My loyalty is to the people who want to build me up and see me happy. Those are the people I’m going to make decisions about my life for.

Josh has never asked me about the scars, though. “Did Tim do that to you?” I clench my arm and nod. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. How he treats a son might be completely different from how he treated a stepson.” “That shouldn’t matter, right? If he treated you like that, why should he get another chance with me?” It’s the first time Josh has come close to admitting his father isn’t a hero. I don’t want to be the person he blames in the future for not having a relationship with his dad, but I want to tell him he’s right. His father shouldn’t get another chance. He left and never looked back. There’s no excuse good enough to walk away from your son. There’s this toxic belief that family should stick together simply because they’re family. But the best thing I ever did for myself was walk away from them.

“You know that homework I’m behind on? The family tree?” Josh pulls at his seat belt and begins to fasten it. “They never said how big the tree needed to be. I’ll just draw a baby seedling. They don’t have branches.” He pats the dash. “Let’s go.” I laugh hard at that. I wasn’t expecting it. The way this kid weaves humor into the most depressing moments gives me hope for him. I think he’s gonna be okay. “A seedling, huh?” I start the car and pull on my own seat belt. “That might work.” “I can draw a seedling with two tiny branches. Yours and mine. We’ll be on our own brand-new, tiny family tree—one that starts with us.” I feel heat behind my eyes, so I grab my sunglasses off the dash and put them on. “A whole new family tree that starts with us. I like it.” He nods. “And we’ll do a much better job of keeping it alive than our shitty parents did.”

It was hard to focus on the television because the words I love you were still tickling their way up my throat, and I didn’t want to say it, couldn’t say it, because I didn’t want you to think it was too fast, or that those words held no weight for me. They were the heaviest damn thing I’d ever carried. But I think about that day so much, Lily, and I have no idea if that’s what love feels like for everyone, like it’s an airplane that just fell from the sky and crashed right through you. Because most people, they have love seeping in and out their whole lives. They’re born being wrapped in it and they go their whole childhood being protected by it, and they have people in their lives that welcome their love in return, so I’m not sure it hits people like it hit me—in one small moment, in such a colossal way. You were wearing this shirt I loved. It was too big for you, and the sleeve was always falling off your shoulder. I should have been watching the cartoon, but I couldn’t stop staring at that stretch of exposed skin between your neck and your shoulder. As I was looking at it, I once again felt that incredible pull to say I love you, and the words were there, right on the tip of my tongue, so I leaned forward and pressed them against your skin. And that’s where they stayed, hidden and quiet, until I worked up the courage to speak them out loud to you six months later. I had no idea you remembered that kiss, or all the times I kissed you in that spot after that day. Even wh...

But vows aren’t meant to be something you make in private. The purpose of a vow is to make an intentional promise that is witnessed, whether it’s witnessed by God, or friends and family. It has to make you wonder, though, or at least it made me wonder what the purpose is behind the need for a public vow. I couldn’t stop my mind from questioning what must have happened in the past to create the necessity for love to be witnessed. Does it mean that somewhere along the way, a promise was broken? A heart was shattered? It’s disappointing if you really sit and think about why vows even exist. If we trusted everyone to keep their word, vows wouldn’t be necessary. People would fall in love, and they’d stay in love, faithfully, forever, the end. But that’s the issue, I guess. We’re people. We’re human. And humans can sometimes be disappointing.