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“Ah.” Without letting myself overthink it, I pulled her to me. I dropped my chin to the top of her head and looped my arms around her. “We make a good team.”
She sank into me, wrapping her arms around me and dropping her cheek to my collarbone. “Yeah, I guess we still do.”
My heart soared. Like that one sentence had erased every argument we’d had in the last seven years.
In this moment, we were closer, emotionally and physically, than we’d been in years. It was so reminiscent of the nights we’d dance under the stars or sneak kisses when no one was looking. Like the weekends when we’d curl up on the couch with one-dollar Ramen and binge-watch shows.
With those memories came another, and I couldn’t stop myself from doing it if I tried. So I pulled back a little, and when she looked up at me, I lifted one brow.
“What?” she asked, pulling away.
“You always been this short?”
She snorted and pinched my side. “You know that doesn’t work, right?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. We made two kids together, and you’re in my arms, so it must work a little.”
Marigold bit her lip and nuzzled into my shirt. “Maybe a little.”
That confession was a boost straight to my ego. I didn’t know where this would leave us tomorrow, but I would hold her for as long as I could tonight.
“Hey, guys.” Crew burst through the doorway. “I found the boys. They were in the backyard.”
Marigold and I stepped away from each other and glared at my youngest brother.
He tilted his head and blinked at us. “Wait, what did I do?”
Wednesdays were my new favorite days.
The festival was two weeks away, and all we had left to do was finish up the final touches and set it up at the school. Over the last few weeks, Liam had continued to show up on Wednesday mornings. We’d work in comfortable silence for about an hour, but inevitably, we’d end up lying on the grass outside, watching the clouds pass over and reminiscing about the past. We avoided any talk of darker times. Each time one of us would circle near it, we’d change the topic to one that revolved around life before the boys or the early toddler stage.
He’d shown me photos of a few of the projects he was doing at his house, and he’d even brought along a tile sample for the guest bathroom. That one I was instantly jealous of. He had photo after photo of the new fire pit he’d put in under the pergola where Luke and Layla had gotten married. He was considering adding built-in bookshelves in the office upstairs. They’d span the length and height of the wall facing the bay window that looked out over the backyard.
I clung to his every word, allowing myself brief moments to picture a life together in that home. Then reality would sink in like a slap to the face. A life with him there wasn’t a possibility, and I wasn’t sure how it ever could be.
Last Wednesday, I’d stayed up late thinking about it, wondering how it could ever work. If it were just the two of us, that would be one thing. I honestly would’ve given into Liam’s flirtations long ago if mine was the only heart I’d have to worry about. But our sons had to come first. They were incredible, smart, funny, and still very much in trouble. They deserved a stable home. In our current situation, they had two of those.
I’d never put my own happiness above theirs. And they were happy. They loved us both and told us daily. They were constantly gushing about how amazing Liam was, and they’d follow up every session with reassurances that I was “the best mom ever.” Their words, not mine.
Being with Liam—seeing where these feelings might lead—meant that could all be ruined. We could get their hopes up, only to fall apart all over again. At least when we divorced, they had been too young to understand. This time, they’d witness and experience every step. The reunion and the likely breakdown. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
Unless…no. No, I needed to be firm. An unmovable force. Which meant Liam had to stop wearing compression shirts. He had to stop working out. If he could just stop looking good in general, it would really help my case.
Last night, I, like a fool, had spent half the night cleaning my house instead of sleeping, dissecting every word we’d shared and every glance. Once every surface gleamed, I tried a new cheesecake recipe, courtesy of Mama B, then read Layla’s latest thriller. When it got too scary, I turned on Bluey to wipe away all the irrational fears her words had put in my head. After all that, I slept fitfully and woke early. That, I told myself, was out of habit—not anticipation. Then I proceeded to go overboard with breakfast.
Waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, toasted bagels, the works. My kitchen counter looked like an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. It was ridiculous. I considered tossing some out so I didn’t seem so…eager. No. That would be a waste. But then again, who wants to eat leftover soggy waffles? This was stupid. Maybe he’d be really hungry when he arrived. Maybe I could eat half of it now, keep my cards close and all that. Not that I’d even been dealt a hand. There was no game, and there were no cards. We were co-parents, and that was the way it would stay.
Just as I stabbed a hunk of waffle with a fork and shoveled it into my mouth, my phone rang in the living room. “Hold on!” I shouted around the food, as if the caller could even hear me.
I ran to the coffee table and picked up the device. Liam’s name flashed across the screen. I cringed. I couldn’t chew quick enough. Jeez, why did I always have to eat the thing in one go? Oh, great. Now I was choking. A hunk of partially chewed waffle lodged itself in my throat, and I had to run back to the kitchen for my water.
While I was sucking down gulp after gulp to clear my esophagus, the phone stopped ringing. By the time the voicemail notification popped up, I could breathe like a normal adult human should.
I tapped on the notification, then put the phone on speaker.
He cleared his throat, but then there was a pause. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy. “Hey, Goldie. I’ve got a stomach bug, so I can’t make it this morning. I was up sick all night. I would’ve called earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
You wouldn’t have. I wasn’t sleeping because I couldn’t stop thinking about how good the veins in your forearms look and how even your stupid calf muscles haunt me.
