Chapter 7: What Grace Holloway Said
I called Grace Holloway on Monday morning.
Deb took the kids to the park so I could have the apartment quiet.
I sat at Deb's kitchen table with a notepad and a pen I didn't end up using.
Grace picked up on the third ring.
"Grace Holloway."
"My name is Renee.
Carol gave me your number."
"Carol called me yesterday," Grace said.
"She told me you might reach out.
How are you holding up?"
"I'm functioning," I said.
"That's about as far as I can get right now."
"That's far enough for today." A pause.
"Tell me the situation.
Take your time."
I told her everything.
The flight.
Aunt Diane.
The photograph.
The phone call.
The voicemail.
I talked for almost twenty minutes and Grace didn't interrupt once.
When I finished, she was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
"First thing.
You did the right thing leaving before he got back.
That was the right call."
"He keeps texting," I said.
"He's been texting since yesterday.
He says we need to talk.
He says I'm making a mistake."
"Don't respond.
Not yet.
Not without knowing what you want first." She paused.
"Do you know what you want?"
I had been asking myself that question since Saturday night.
"I want to protect my kids," I said.
"Whatever else — that's the thing I'm sure about."
"Good.
That's a clear foundation." I heard her writing something.
"The photograph Carol brought — do you still have it?"
"Yes."
"Keep it somewhere safe.
Not in your phone.
Physical copy, physical location." Another pause.
"Has Marcus's name ever been on any of your accounts?
Lease, utilities, anything financial?"
"He's on my phone plan.
That's all."
"Change your password today.
Don't remove him yet — that can complicate things — but make sure he can't access the account portal."
"Okay."
"Has he ever been aggressive?
Raised a hand, blocked a door, anything physical?"
"No.
Never physical." I thought about the phone call.
*You need to be very careful about what you're accusing me of.* "He uses words."
"Describe that."
"He makes me feel like my own thinking is wrong.
Like I'm overreacting.
Like the problem is always my interpretation of things."
Grace was quiet for a moment.
"That's important," she said.
"That's a pattern worth documenting.
Start keeping a record — dates, what was said, how it made you feel.
Even the small things.
Do it in a notebook, not your phone."
I wrote that down.
"What about the children?" I said.
"Legally.
He's not their father — neither of them.
But he's been in their lives for two years.
Does that give him any standing?"
"In most states, no legal standing without a formal agreement or adoption.
But if he decides to be difficult, it helps to have documentation of the relationship and its end." She paused.
"Are you planning to end it?"
I looked at the blank notepad in front of me.
"I think it ended on Saturday," I said.
"I just need to make it official."
"Then here's what I'd suggest for the next two weeks." She walked me through it — the records, the accounts, the conversation I needed to have with Marcus that should happen in writing, not by phone.
She told me what to say and what not to say.
She told me what he might try.
He might try to make me feel guilty.
He might try to reframe the whole thing as a misunderstanding.
He might go quiet and hope I softened.
Or he might escalate.
"If he escalates," Grace said, "call me immediately.
Don't wait."
"What counts as escalating?"
"If he shows up at your home uninvited.
If he contacts your family to pressure you.
If he threatens anything — your job, your reputation, custody of the kids even though he has no legal claim.
If any of that happens, you call me."
"Okay."
"Renee." Her voice shifted slightly.
"You didn't do anything wrong.
I want to say that clearly.
You were deceived by someone who was very practiced at deceiving people.
What you're feeling right now — the doubt, the second-guessing — that's what he built in you.
It's not the truth."
I pressed the pen down hard against the notepad.
"He left a voicemail," I said.
"He said he loves me.
He said he loves the kids."
May you like
"I know," Grace said.
"They often do."
