The Glass Wives Read Online Free PDF

simple life would be. For Evie. Yet, she admitted to herself, how sad for Sam and Sophie. Evie’s thoughts deflated as her insides tumbled to and fro from a maternal tug-of-war. Her load would lighten without Nicole or Luca, yet Sam and Sophie would bear the weight. She couldn’t do that to her own children. Could she?
    She nudged the kids off the couch and they sleepwalked to their rooms, Evie behind them. Ascending the stairs, Evie relented. The best way to heal the gaping wound in Sam’s and Sophie’s hearts was to keep Nicole and Luca in their lives, maybe every other weekend. Could Evie cope with a regular dinner date with Nicole and Luca? Weekend field trips? Birthday parties? Heading into the no-snore zone of her bedroom, Evie knew she would do anything for Sam and Sophie, but a woman had to have boundaries. Especially a woman with her very own widow making house calls.
    Evie reached for the wand of the miniblinds to block out the light from outside. Light from outside? At eleven-thirty?
    She had her very own widow, indeed. Still in the driveway.
    Evie backed away from the window and climbed into bed. About ten minutes later, when she heard a car drive away, Evie closed her eyes and primed for sleep. But future scenarios wound through her thoughts like a tapeworm. She tried to avoid them, but Nicole’s visit broke the dam. No more child support—the financial kind or the father kind or the every-other-weekend kind. How was she going to pay the mortgage? She’d ask for more hours at Third Coast. How would she spend time alone with Scott? Whether she wanted to work or to play, Evie would need to hire a babysitter. Do almost-eleven-year-olds need a babysitter?
    *   *   *
    Sam lay on his bed, nose to wall, atop the Star Wars comforter he was really too old for but begged Evie not to donate, trash, or hide in the attic. She obliged and just kept washing it.
    “Some of your friends are downstairs,” Evie said. She sat next to him without disturbing the muddle of pillows and floppy stuffed frog she didn’t want to throw away.
    “My friends?” Sam rolled toward her.
    “Your friends. Remember? It’s winter break. You invited them over this morning? To play video games?”
    He rubbed his eyes, lifted his head, and laid it on Evie’s knee. “Mom?” Sam stretched the syllable and his voice rose, adding an extra question mark at the end. Evie held her breath. Sam blinked and looked up at her, wide-eyed. His chest rose as he inhaled. “Do we have any bagels? I’m starved.”
    “Uh-huh.” It was all Evie could muster as she exhaled. The sickening instant of not knowing what came after “Mom?” drained the blood from her limbs. Relieved, Evie turned and looked around the room. Except for the bed, Sam’s room was tidy from Evie’s every-other-weekend cleaning extravaganzas. Her routine: The kids left for their dad weekends (first with just Richard, then with Richard and Nicole, and then with Richard, Nicole, and Luca), and Evie dusted, scrubbed, and straightened the twins’ rooms for thirty minutes. Each. She changed the sheets, rearranged the books, toys, trophies, and knickknacks so they could come home and start their week in peace, recover from the Disney-Dad effect, and ease into real life, the one without monorails, cotton candy, and pancakes for dinner. Now Evie looked at the dust-free shelves and searched the floor for dog hair tumbleweeds, marbles, or Pokémon cards—for any sign of Sam. But, no, she had transformed his boyhood sanctuary into a furniture-store model room. Evie didn’t ask Sam to straighten the bed, and for good measure she toppled the books on the desk before leaving. A tidy room was no longer a priority.
    She poked her head into Sophie’s room. No Sophie there. Evie checked the bathroom. Her pace quickened as she tiptoed down the hall. She was not in the mood for a missing child but couldn’t emit panic.
    “Hey, kiddo,” Evie said. Sophie was lying on the floor next to