Page 67 of Living at 40

“I do.” Slowly, I grin, proud of myself for not backing down to Chloe. I’m happy while equally scared to have my budding teenage daughter all to myself.

“What if Chloe returns and wants Lorna back?”

“Chloe will always be Lorna’s mother and part of her life as long as she chooses. I’d like to think she won’t disappear on our daughter, but Chloe has become someone I no longer know. At forty, she seems to be on a self-discovery kick.”

Autumn snorts. “I know the feeling, and I’m not even forty yet.”

“You are nothing like Chloe. She’s turned very selfish. If she wants Peter and France, she could go, but she could not take Lorna away from me.”

A heavy pause falls between us before Autumn speaks.

“I would never ask you to give her up.” Her comment shifts our conversation, and my eyebrows arch.

“I know you wouldn’t.” There’s so much more to unpack with her statement, but I need to get back to my apology. I’ve already told Autumn how I felt. I only want her. I don’t want her with anyone else. But I’ve also screwed up. More than two weeks is a long time without communication in a new relationship.

Suddenly, the front door swings open, and Mila runs inside, followed by Lorna.

“Furniture is here!” Mila yells to the open entryway, allowing her little, loud voice to travel in all directions.

I glance at Lorna, who smiles at me before she winks. My sweet eleven-year-old winks at me for encouragement, and my heart skips a beat. Lorna and I have had long meaningful talks about her mother’s decision and dating in general as her parent. I might have mentioned my feelings for Autumn.

“Autumn . . .” I begin, turning back to the woman beside me.

“Time to work,” she says, brushing past me and stepping toward Mila. I catch her upper arm to stop her.

“We aren’t finished.” My tone’s sharpness has more warning in it than I intend, but softening my voice next does nothing to dispel my concerns. “We aren’t done talking, and we aren’t finished with whatever is happening between us.”

Her eyes widen as she chews her lower lip and nods once at me. “Later.”

Later. It’s full of promise, and I’ll take it for now.

+ + +

Later, we’re all exhausted. The furniture is moved in, and rooms are rearranged. I can tell Anna is overwhelmed, and Ben is bone-tired. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it more during our two-week vacation. It could be that all my attention was on Autumn, but I also think Ben was good at hiding his troubles in subtle ways. Maybe now that I know the truth, I’m looking for more signs.

Zack and I don’t want to overwhelm Ben and Anna, and we hadn’t planned to stay the night. Zack intended to head back to Detroit for the remainder of the three-day weekend, but I wasn’t certain what I would do. I had hoped to talk to Autumn and come to some kind of agreement for our future, but I didn’t want to force my way into Ben’s home on their first official weekend living here, nor could I invite myself to Autumn’s place with Lorna in tow.

Fortunately, I don’t have to make a decision. Mila begs for Lorna to stay in her room again, and Mason has space in the two-bedroom apartment over the garage for Zack and me to spend the night without being underfoot of the newly moved family. Ben insists we stay the remainder of the weekend, and I don’t have the heart to argue as I really want the distraction for Lorna. Hanging out with a friend is a good way to keep her mind off the fact her mother chose France over Indiana and Peter over her.

Plus, staying gives me time to speak with Autumn, which I finally get the chance to do once the sun is down.

“Take a walk with me,” I mutter to her once Lorna seems settled in Mila’s room, and Ben says he needs to go to bed. Mason and Zack head into town for a drink.

Autumn and I go out the back door and down the stairs to the landing between the house and beach. I snagged a bottle of wine from the bar alcove along with two glasses, and Autumn has a blanket wrapped around her as the first weekend in September has brought cooler evening temperatures.

Once we sit in the Adirondack chairs on the landing, I pour us each a glass of wine. We remain silent a second after a wordless toast to her.

“Seems I’m constantly apologizing for being a dumbass toward you on this landing,” I start. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

With her gaze off toward the dark lake, she softly chuckles. A single solar-powered light illuminates her outline. “After those first few calls, I didn’t want to appear needy, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

“How would you have been needy?” I ask, keeping my gaze on her. She turns her head to face me.

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Autumn, sweetheart. We can talk anytime you want, about anything you want.” I’d wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t know what to say. Chloe’s decision was sucking everything out of me, and the more time that passed, the less I knew how to reach out. It occurs to me Autumn had things on her mind as well like baby-making and motherhood, and maybe even Ben.

“Lorna is more important.”