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I smiled softly at them. “Of course we did.”
More than anyone could imagine. But that was the problem. Our flame burned too hot, too quickly. The love was undeniable, but we were hit with so much of it so fast, and at such a young age, that when things got hard, our foundation had barely begun to form, and we became unrooted. Regardless of the depth of our love, it didn’t stand the test of time.
“What was Dad like when he was younger?” Dallas asked, dipping his chin to the tablet on the counter in front of him.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re awfully full of questions today.”
They responded with matching shrugs.
I huffed a breath. “He was very…charismatic. He’d go to all sorts of lengths to make people laugh. Very, very confident. I think he truly believed he could do anything he wanted. If anyone questioned his ability, he’d work twice as hard to achieve his goal. If you told him he couldn’t skydive, he would jump two times just to prove you wrong. And he was very protective of everyone he loved.”
He’d gotten tossed out of more than one establishment for getting into fights over me or his brothers. One time, while we were at a bar in college, he went to the bar to order drinks, and when he came back, he discovered a guy chatting me up a little too comfortably. He set both drinks down, stepped between us, and carried me right out of the place. The whole way out, I couldn’t fight my grin. All I kept thinking was how did I get lucky enough to marry this guy?
“He didn’t always make the best choices,” I said in a playful voice that made the boys giggle. “Very mischievous. Caused lots of trouble.”
With the lid securely in place on the Crock-Pot, I wiped down the kitchen counter, trying to ignore the way my chest ached.
But the ache only worsened as one memory after another hit me. “He was so much fun back then.” I moved over to the counter in front of them, dragging the washcloth with me. “One time, he—” I blew out a breath and shook my head.
Dallas was typing away on his tablet, and Miles was watching him intently.
I pushed the rag to one side and splayed my hands on the counter. “Are you even listening? I thought you wanted to know this stuff.”
Miles waved his hands. “No, keep going. I’m listening, I promise.”
“What were you like, Mom?” Dallas asked, peering up from his device.
A pit formed in my stomach. I was terrible at the whole tell us about yourself question. Job interviews, college groups, trying to find mom friends I clicked with after having the boys. Each situation required it, and every time, I broke out in a sweat.
“Um, I guess I was a lot like I am now. I was a little more shy back then. If it wasn’t for your dad, I probably wouldn’t have made any friends when I moved here.”
My mom’s eyes practically bugged out of her head when I came home that first day of school and told her I’d made a friend. I’d always kept to myself, and although she never pushed me, she wanted me to make friends, have the traditional teenager experiences.
“So Dad was like your best friend,” Miles said around a full mouth of Goldfish.
“Yeah, he was. For a long time.”
That’s what made it all so hard. I’d lost my best friend and my husband in the slowest, most torturous way.
A shudder racked through me at the thought. After the divorce, once we’d found our new normal, I found a therapist. The lady was sweet, and she was a mom of twins, so she understood a lot of my parenting plight. She described those first few years as “the trenches,” and I’d yet to find a more apt way to refer to them. It was pure survival. Putting myself last so I could bring happiness to the people I cared about most. Closing my eyes at night knowing that those next few hours of broken sleep would be the only breaks I’d get, because everyone needed me. Wanted me. Yes, knowing the boys would pick me above anyone else made my heart burst. I loved that they wanted me to rock them back to sleep at night. Liam would try. He really did in those early days. But they’d cry out for Mom instead. I think in the same way I resented him for being able to go to work and live his own life outside our house, he resented not being essential to our children. It was unfair of us both.
My throat felt tight as the memories rushed back, and I had to will the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes to abate.
“Anyway, that’s the story.”
Miles tilted his head to the right. “So, why did you have to divorce?”
They’d asked me this question before. It wasn’t a huge shock. I’d always given them a generic answer or found a quick way to distract them, like making a U-turn over to the McDonald’s drive thru.
But now that they were ten, they were really beginning to understand the world around them. They deserved a better explanation, but right now, I didn’t have it in me.
“Sometimes people just have to separate, bud. It’s a story for another day.”
If I go missing, Marigold did it.
Calla: Oh good. Did you guys start the project today?
Marigold: Unfortunately.
