I haven’t felt this conflicted in so long. Part of me wants to call Allysa and tell her about seeing Atlas, but I can’t. She knows how Ryle still feels about me. She knows how he’d feel if I brought Atlas into the picture.

I can’t talk to my mother because she’s my mother. As close as we’ve become lately, I’d still never freely discuss my dating life with her.

There’s really only one woman I feel comfortable talking to about Atlas.

“Lucy?”

She appears from the back, pulling an earbud out of her ear. “Did you need me?”

“Can you cover me for a while? I need to go run an errand. I’ll be back in an hour.”

She makes her way behind the counter, and I grab my purse. I don’t get a lot of alone time now that I have Emerson, so I occasionally steal an hour here and there during the workweek when I have someone to back up my absence at the shop.

Sometimes I like to sit in my thoughts, and it’s impossible to do that in the presence of a child because even when she’s asleep I’m in mom mode. And with the constant flow of traffic at work, it’s rare that I can find a stretch of peace without being interrupted.

I’ve found that being alone in my car with my music on, and occasionally a slice of dessert from the Cheesecake Factory, is sometimes all it takes to sort through the knots in my brain.

Once I’m parked with a clear view of Boston Harbor, I lean my seat back and grab the notepad and pen I brought with me. I don’t know if this will help as much as dessert sometimes does, but I need to release my thoughts in the same way I’ve done in the past. This method has helped before when I need things to fall neatly into place. Although this time, I’m just hoping it helps things not to fall completely apart.