Page 94 of Buttons

“I never thought we’d get here,” I admit quietly. “Not after that night.”

Julian nods, understanding immediately which night I mean. “Neither did I,” he says. “I thought I’d destroyed any chance of us.”

“It wasn’t just you,” I remind him. “I was disappearing long before you noticed.”

“Neither of us are the people we were. Thank God for that.”

A burst of childish laughter from somewhere down the hallway breaks the moment as Meredith’s distinctive giggle rings out, followed by Sarah’s deeper chuckle and what might be Leo’s embarrassed protest.

“They’ll be back soon,” I say, reluctantly moving to my chair.

“Quick! Let’s finish our wine,” Julian suggests, reaching for the bottle. “Sarah said she’ll drive us home.”

As we sip the last of our wine, listening to the approaching footsteps of our children returning, intense happiness settles in my chest. I can’t wait for my next chapter.

Chapter 40

Elowen: One Year Later

Garlic and herbs mingle with the faint scent of cat fur. I smooth my expansion plans across the worn wooden table, tracing the pencil marks with my fingertip as Julian chops carrots. We chose this house together: a modest two-story with creaky stairs, colorful ceramic tiles that catch the afternoon light, solar panels on the roof, and a self-sustaining water well. It is nothing like the cold marble perfection of the place where we pretended to be happy.

“What do you think about extending the cat runs along the south wall?” I ask, not looking up from my blueprint. “We’d get better light there, especially in the winter.”

Julian’s knife continues its rhythmic tap against the cutting board. “Makes sense. Though you’d need to account for the drainage issue Beatrix had mentioned.”

Balthazar weaves between my ankles, his orange fur collecting on my jeans. The cat, who once hissed at everyone, now demands constant attention, as if making up for lost time.He’s got his brother now, Dad!Behind him follows Buttons, our little calico rescue with a perpetual expression of mild surprise. Pepper is around here somewhere, too. Knowing Meredith, she’s sleeping in her arms, or they’re playing tea-party together. The little cat actually sits in the chair and bats at the cup while Meredith giggles.

“I think you’re right about the drainage,” I say, making a note on the blueprint. “Maybe we shift it east? That still gives us the afternoon light.”

Julian doesn’t answer immediately, his focus narrowed to the carrots he’s dicing into perfect, identical cubes. I recognize it as concentration. Tonight he’s making stew.

“Hmm. Fifteen feet east works,” he says finally, scraping the carrots into a waiting bowl. “But check with Connor about that support beam he mentioned. Might complicate things.”

I nod, making another notation. There’s something achingly intimate about discussing sanctuary renovations while Julian prepares dinner. The domesticity we never actually had in our first attempt at marriage.

The stew simmers on the stove, filling the kitchen with warmth and rich aromas. Julian moves to the spice rack. The old Julian wouldn’t have known oregano from basil, but this one reads cooking blogs like they’re quarterly reports, attacking each new recipe like the best of them.

“Salt,” he murmurs to himself, reaching for the ceramic container. “Two teaspoons.”

My eyes widen slightly as he tips the salt into his palm. That’s definitely more than two teaspoons.

“Julian—”

Too late. The salt cascades into the pot.

He freezes, spoon suspended over the bubbling stew, a look of genuine dismay crossing his features. “Damn it. I think I just ruined dinner.”

Knowing the drill, I help him fix it so it can be perfect again. We save the carrots, but restart the liquid and spices.

I reach for a potato from the vegetable basket. “If you add too much salt again, cut this up and add it. It’ll absorb some of the salt.”

Julian takes the potato, his fingers brushing mine in a moment of connection that still sends small electric currents through my skin.

“Show me?”

“Quarter it first,” I say, stepping back to give him space. “Then into smaller pieces.”

He works with careful attention, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. Adorable.