“Ah, I see,” Giselle replied, like that made complete and total sense. “Tell me, are you a fan of Miss Rachel?”
My daughter’s face lit up, and I found myself grinning to mimic her.
“Hewwo! Me rashu!”
“I thought you might be. I think she’s just the bee’s knees. Did you know that bees have six knees?”
Veronica squealed in response, which I chose to take as yes, she was actually an expert in the anatomy of all Italian honeybees.
The two of them proceeded to have an in-depth conversation about the academic depth of the YouTube show, with Natalie and Benny occasionally piping in. I love that my son wasn’t jealous of his sister dominating the conversation for a while, especially since about ninety percent of her communication was incomprehensible sounds.
God, it was like we were a real family. An honest-to-God, Norman Rockwell-esque, Americana family sitting around the dining room eating a meal together. It was something I never thought I could possibly have again.
But still, I couldn’t get ahead of myself.
It didn’t matter how many times my brain reminded me of that, I always forgot it a few seconds later. Was it so wrong to let myself get lost in the fantasy? Just for a little while? I was happy. My kids were happy. Natalie seemed to be enjoying herself, as did Giselle. Maybe, just this once, I could get lost in the joy.
And that’s exactly what I did. I pushed our trauma to the back of my mind and enjoyed the jokes and the conversation. My heart swelled as Veronica demanded to be let out of her highchair in that cute little language of hers, only to sit in Giselle’s lap.
I was able to drink in the teacher’s adorable blush as Natalie complimented her, saying that Veronica was quite picky about people, only for Giselle to demurely say she was good with children. I bragged about my son’s reading habits, and Benny spent a good twenty minutes talking about the difference between frills and crests of dinosaurs in the Cretaceous era.
I didn’t want dinner to end. It was almost magical, like we were in a bubble outside of reality that would pop the moment any of us moved. But there was only so long one could expect twoyoung children to sit around a table after they were done eating. So, all too soon, the kids were washing up, while Natalie grabbed their overnight bags.
I had no expectations of Giselle staying for more than an hour or so, but I had the feeling that I might need time to recover from whatever news she had. And recovering would go a lot faster if I didn’t have to worry about traumatizing my already traumatized kids. I also didn’t want to risk them overhearing anything. Neither of them knew the details of that night. That wasn’t really a conversation I felt was necessary for either of us.
“I’ll see you Monday at school,” Giselle said, walking them to the door like she was a natural part of their life. And I had to admit, she did seem to fit in like a puzzle piece that had been missing and I hadn’t even known it.
“I like her,” Natalie said beside me as she handed me the kids’ overnight bags to carry to her car. “She is good.”
A simple sentence, comprised of monosyllabic words, and yet that was really the long and the short of it, wasn’t it?
“I like her too, I think.”
“What do you mean, ‘I think?’ This is the thing you know.”
I gave her a look until the kids and Giselle were all the way out the door. “It’s complicated.”
“What about it is complicated? She is special. Your kids like her. You like her.”
Although I appreciated Natalie’s straightforwardness, there were occasions where her lack of nuance made me itch uncomfortably. “Please, don’t be pedantic with me right now. I’ve already had the love of my life. I found my happily ever after. And because I trusted the wrong person, I lost all of that. I still love my wife. Even if she’s gone. And I don’t think that will ever change.”
“Who says it should change?”
I blinked rapidly at her. There were a lot of things I had anticipated she might say, but that wasn’t one of them. “Pardon?”
“I said, who says it should change? Did Giselle? Because if she did, then fuck her. But I’m willing to bet she’s said nothing of the sort.” When I continued to stare at her, Natalie grumbled in frustration. “No one expects you to stop loving your wife. She will always have a place in your heart.
“But that doesn’t mean there will not be other parts of your heart with free space for someone like Giselle. Maybe you are not ready, and maybe she is not the one for those extra spaces, but they are there. Pretending that you must be condemned to a life of solitude is not what your wife would have wanted. I didn’t know her, but my sister wrote often of how kind and loving she was. Can you look into my eyes and tell me she would be happy about you being alone forever?”
“I…”
That was not a line of questioning that I had expected from Natalie, and suddenly I found myself facing a question I had never really thought about.
I’d always believed I deserved every single ounce of misery I was experiencing because, as an alpha, as a husband, I had failed every single person who had depended on me. I had responsibilities I had trained more than half my life for, incredibly important responsibilities, but I hadn’t been enough to keep them.
But would my wife agree?
I thought of Millia’s soft smile, her kind eyes. She always jumped at the chance to help anyone in need, grew food for everyone, made little lotions and candles specifically attuned to the recipient, because she knew so much about them.
