Page 33 of Letting Go at 40

But that kiss haunts me. The way her mouth moved with mine—soft at first and then hungry for more. Her hands in my hair. Her fingers fisting me.

I shudder and take a deep breath.

“I haven’t been south for a while,” I admit, although I’ve had plenty of meetings with Logan and even Zack. Commuting three hours again, now for Four Points which we headquartered in Lakeside, is wearing on me. I love our new company and the strides we’re making in forming a name for ourselves in environmentally-sound homebuilding. Even my vision for the company couldn’t have predicted the way we’ve skyrocketed in demand.

If only Ben could see our success. He’d predicted how quickly we’d grow. He’d be so proud.

He’d equally be disappointed in me. He asked me to look after his wife after he was gone, not take advantage of her. I doubt he intended for me to kiss her. I haven’t done a good job honoring his request to be there for her. Shame knots my gut.

“We should grab a drink,” I offer to Jenna.

“Mason.” She chuckles as she elongates my name. “I’m not going out with you.”

I exhale awkwardly and swipe a hand through my hair. Teasingly, I ask Jenna out every time I see her. “Yeah, I didn’t mean drink drinks. I meant, now. I could buy you a coffee. Maybe some apple cider for your girls.”

“Oh.” Jenna softly laughs and glances down at Rosie who is plastered to her leg. Her other daughter comes closer, struggling with a pumpkin that’s too large for her little arms. Jenna takes the oversized gourd from her. “I should probably get Rosie home for a nap.”

“No nap,” the blond says around the thumb in her mouth.

Jenna shakes her head and smiles at her daughter before looking up at me. “It was great to see you again, Mason.” She pauses watching me a second. “You should give Anna a call.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to.” It’s half-true. I should be calling Anna regularly, checking on her. I share memes and texts with the kids, but Anna and I have been on mute for months. I’ve developed a bad habit of looking at texts we’d traded in the past. One night, I’d seen three dots appear. Anticipation filled my chest, forcing me to hold my breath, like holding out hope that she was thinking of me. She was reaching out to me. She needed me.

Just as quickly the dots disappeared, and the screen dimmed.

Like an anxious teen, I typed out my own message, desperate to recapture her attention. What did she need from me? I’d do anything she asked but staying away from her was eating me up inside.

Instead, I hit delete on my message and tossed my phone aside.

I missed Ben but I’d come to terms with his passing. My strength came from the honor of caring for him in the end. He’d trusted me, like no one else had. As he always did. I think I did an okay job.

But I also missed Anna. We’d fallen into a routine. Maybe I only shadowed her, but she didn’t push me away. We worked in tandem, tag-teaming for the kids, and seamlessly moving around one another like a well-oiled machine. Some reckless nights I even imagined our movements mimicked those of an old married couple. The ones where a wife moved left to put dishes in a dishwasher, while a husband moved right to place the salt back in the cabinet, like an unconscious dance.

I’d actually only ever witnessed Frank and Ruth Kulis move that way. Then Ben and Anna.

I was a fool to ever think I’d be part of something like that. Jenna’s rejection didn’t hurt me, but it was a reminder that I’ll never be the guy someone settled down with. I wasn’t the decent guy you could raise a few kids with. The cog in a gear you needed to make a clock tick or a mechanism function. I was the fun-guy, the one-night stand man.

“Great seeing you too, Jenna. Don’t be a stranger.” I nod at her girls and slip a hand around Lynlee again, tugging her closer to me. To my surprise, she leans into my leg, copying the way Rosie hugged Jenna’s, and for a brief second, hope blooms for Lynlee and me.

A wild thought strikes. That one day I might be good enough for someone like Anna.

Then Lynlee pulls away from my leg and the bubble bursts.

+ + +

Seeing Jenna should have prompted me to call Anna, but I still put off the inevitable for a few weeks. The apology I owe her taunts me. My sin wasn’t something I could discuss with someone else either, so I was stuck in this weird purgatory of wanting to contact Anna and not calling.

As for my confession to Ben, did he receive it? Did he forgive me?

My shame was a constant cycle, spinning out of control.

Taking the coward’s way out, I asked Bryce about Anna when we were shooting texts back and forth one night.

Me: How’s your mom?

Bryce: Good. Not crying so much anymore.

Me: Is she still crying often?