Chapter 14

When I met Reggie, I was still bitter. Still grieving the loss of Harold—though I don’t think that will ever stop. I was a relatively young woman, with two daughters away at college and a house much too big for me. Despite its enormity and—some might say—impracticality, I know Harold always wanted me to keep Bitter House if anything happened to him, and I have absolutely no intention of ever leaving, much to his family’s chagrin. The house had belonged to the Bitter family for generations, and with him gone, I have no doubt his brother is seething at the thought of us here, but this is my home, my children’s home, and this is where we will stay.

Reggie came along when I was still trying to find my place. I’ve always been a stubborn child. Momma and Daddy used to say I’ll be too stubborn to die one day, and I have no evidence to the contrary.

As a girl, I spent many a night dreaming of things girls back then had no business dreaming about. A career. A life. A legacy. I never dreamed of men. Or women, for that matter. I dreamed of myself. Of changing the world, making a name for myself.

Of course, eventually, you start to realize the world has other ideas about what women should be doing with their lives. Meeting Harold gave me a reason to put all of that aside. To set my dreams down with love and hope that someday I could return to them.

When I met Reggie, I swear I felt all of my dreams shrivel and die. Not at first, no. He was much too smart for that. Aren’t they all? At first, he was everything I needed. He was loving. Attentive. He made me laugh. Made me feel—if not completely whole, at least the closest I’d been since Harold’s passing. Stupidly, I believed he could fix me. He could make me feel the things I’d resigned myself to never feeling again.

I thought he could love the girls as much as Harold had. That he could be there for them the way a girl needs her father, walk them down the aisle in his place, dance with them at their wedding. I thought by marrying him I was not only healing my heart, but healing our family.

No one could ever replace Harold, but to have someone who wanted to step into his space in our lives was such a relief when my heart desperately needed respite. It was a balm, not a fix, but I believed I could learn to love him like I needed to.

We had a quick courtship and were married six months after we met. That should’ve been my first sign of trouble, that he was too good to be true, but my mind was such a mess back then I just didn’t see it.

He was, and shall remain, my biggest mistake.

It only took two days after the wedding for him to hit me for the first time. And I noticed the way his eyes lingered on my girls when they were home from college, the way he’d watch them in the pool with their friends.

I may have been blinded by my pain, but I wasn’t stupid. I was stubborn and, I’ve learned, that can be a superpower.