Did you ma’am my mom? And survive?
Josh
Not my finest moment.
Monica
She likes you. You’re fine.
Josh
She scares me.
Monica
She’ll like that, too.
Josh
And you got the Charlie seal of approval.
Monica
Speaking of terrifying. That child has no fear.
She’d hovered over Charlie every time he wanted to climb the stairs, which he did repeatedly after dinner. Josh hadn’t been able to see anything else. There was something captivating about her care for the little boy.
He typed—and deleted—two variations of a text asking Monica if she wanted kids.
That wasn’t any of his business.
Instead, he changed the subject to the mural idea she had, and then she called him, and they talked about it until he heard her yawn.
“Go to sleep, Mon,” he said softly.
“You go to sleep.”
“I will.”
“See you in the morning?”
“Can’t wait.”
And it was true. He couldn’t wait. He ached to see her again.
He drifted to sleep on a tangle of fresh memories. Delighted laughs, brave toddler giggles, and warm, shared looks across a room filled with family.
He dreamed. Woke up hard in the middle of the night. Forced himself back to sleep because he had a date in the morning with his wife, and he had to find a way to keep this going, and it wouldn’t be an easier if he was running on zero rest.
Tuesday dawned warm and sunny, the kind of early spring day that promised it wasn’t too soon for a seasonal tire change clinic, even though there would be at least one more storm before winter finally relinquished her hold on the Bruce.
It was hard to believe there was a storm just two days earlier. It was almost like it hadn’t happened.
But Josh wasn’t at home, watching the group chat fly about who was going to be at the market with their spouse.
He was walking under a banner that stretched over the entrance, declaring this the final week of a maple syrup festival at the farmer’s market.
And his wife was holding his hand like that was just a thing they did now. Tangle their fingers together in public.
