He was wearing the same soft sweater and fitted jeans he put on the other night, but he had a dress shirt under the sweater, and he’d shaved.
It was all very…nice.
Like he’d dressed to impress, or at least, look good beside her. For her.
He glanced at the duffel bag she was gripping in her right hand.
“I’ll probably have to sleep at the lake house tonight with my mom.”
He took a slow, deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“Maybe I don’t have to. I’m not afraid to tell my mother that I’m staying with you, I mean. You’re my husband. I’m allowed—”
“Mon, it’s okay. Stay with your mother.”
And that was the end of that conversation.
He helped her into the truck, then opened the garage door.
Once they were on the road, she reached across the cab and covered his hand with hers. His skin was warm, in a way that made her want to spread her fingers wide and settle in against him, the way a lizard might stretch out on a rock.
Like Josh held all the energy of bright sun and simply touching him could warm her from the inside out.
She’d never let herself dwell on the intensity of their connection. Not like that. She’d loved him, intensely, and then she had to give him up. End of story. What was done was done.
But spending time with him again, after all this time—after years of being alone—made it impossible not to think about the what ifs, and not just in fleeting, emotional bursts.
Regret was a five-course meal these days.
And she had a maple panna cotta with gingerbread crumble in her near future. She couldn’t fill up on regret before that.
I love you, she wanted to say. Wanted it to be enough, wanted it to mean something real. But she’d told him that once, and then broke that trust into a million splinters.
So she pushed it down into the same space she’d locked herI’m sorryfeelings, too.
It wasn’t what he wanted from her.
* * *
When they arrived,Adam and Isla were the only people on the main floor of the house.
Adam was unpacking food in the kitchen, and Isla was decorating an oversized dining table that stretched in front of a window that looked out onto the lake.
“Can I help?” Monica asked.
Isla gave her a bright smile. “I’m good. Your mom is upstairs getting ready.”
“Oh.” Monica glanced around. “This is a beautiful home.”
“One of the nicest in the area. The family who own it were in the construction business for a long time before they retired. Now they rent it out most of the time.”
A knock at the door announced the arrival of Owen and Kerry, who had a sleeping baby in a carrier, as well as Owen’s adult daughter, Becca, and her son Charlie, who raced to Josh.
“Hey buddy,” he said, hoisting the little boy in his arms. “This is Monica.”
Her chest squeezed tight, and she cursed the universe for being so extra-pointy in showing her what she could have had if she’d only trusted Josh.
Charlie frowned at her, and she was fully prepared for the toddler to loudly announce to the room that he didn’t like this strange lady.
