“Are we getting a new house?”
“Can I be the flower girl?”
Mara leaned her head against my chest where my arm was still around her, and it felt disturbingly perfect. My heart panged. I needed my stupid heart to shut up. Mara would be a friend, a co-conspirator, a companion. Nothing more.
But it sure didn’t feel that way with her pressed against me. My heart was apparently in control of my body because I dipped to kiss the top of her head.
She turned her face up to mine. “I think they’re excited.”
“I think so too.”
Mara’s eyes sparkled. “This will be good for them. Thank you.”
It was good for my kids. Whether it was a risk for me was irrelevant.
All of this was for my kids. For Mara’s kids.
I’d just do my best not to let Mara down in the process.
TWENTY-NINE
MARA
NOVEMBER
Our high oftelling the kids about us getting married didn’t last long.
I was finishing the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. Jack was upstairs helping his kids get ready to go to Sydney’s for the week. He was out of town until Wednesday night, then Sydney got the rest of Thanksgiving weekend with the kids too.
“I’ll get it,” I called, opening the door to find an infuriated-looking Sydney. “Hi!”
“What are you doing here.” It was a statement, not a question. “And why does my code not work.”
“Hey, um, well, I don’t know about the code.” Heat flashed over my body, then I yelled up the stairs. “Jack?”
“Down in a sec!”
I gestured to Sydney. “Come in, come in.”
Maybe being friendly would help. We briefly discussed that we should probably tell Sydney we were getting married before she heard it from the kids, as a courtesy.
She stood just inside the door with her arms crossed.
“Can I get you some coffee? Tea? Anything?” I offered.
Her eyes did a scathing survey of me: my pajama pants and bare feet, my oversized Green Day t-shirt. “Do you live here?”
My lips popped open, but I wasn’t sure how to answer her.
“Hey.” Jack’s flat voice came from the top of the stairs. He looked deflated, but held Hazel on his hip. “They’re coming down in a minute.”
“When were you going to tell me you had a whore sleeping in the same house as our children?”
I knew it was meant to hurt. To hurt me. To hurt Jack. That made it less effective.
But it still stung.
Jack’s eyes were lifeless again, his voice robotic as he descended the stairs. “Sydney, we wanted to tell you before you heard it somewhere else.”
