“I can handle the kids. That’s easy. That’s what I do. But this?” She gestured vaguely, like she could point to the invisible web connecting all of us. “This is different. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve never done anything like this before. In twenty-seven years, I’ve only been with two men. Ever. My high school sweetheart and my ex-fiancé.”
“At the same time?”
She stared at me.
“Too soon?” I offered weakly.
Her lips pressed together, and for a second, I thought she might laugh. But the sound that came out was more like a shaky exhale, and then she looked away. And I saw it. The shimmer in her eyes. The way her throat worked like she was trying to swallow it all back down.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I was kidding, alright? Badly. That was me trying to make it better.”
But she was already spiraling.
“I just keep thinking about Sylvie,” she said. “And how you all looked so happy in that photo. Like you all just fit together, and it was so easy and fun. But I’m not her. And I don’t know how to be enough for one of you, let alone three. I’m not built for this, Adrian. I’m—”
That was as far as I allowed her to go.
My hands caught her face, thumbs brushing the heat on her cheeks, and I kissed her. Hard. Hard enough so there’d be no doubt left in her mind. Not about this.
She went still for half a breath, surprised, and then she melted. God, she melted right into me. Her mouth opened against mine like she’d been waiting for someone to stop her thoughts long enough for her to feel something real.
I pulled her closer, until her chest pressed into me and her fingers found my jacket. The world shrank until it was just the taste of her. Warm and sweet. She made this sound, needy but quiet, that hit somewhere low in my gut and rewired every coherent thought I had.
For a minute, there was nothing but the scrape of breath and the faint creak of the porch beneath us. No guilt. No second-guessing. Just her. Just this.
When I finally drew back, she was still leaning in, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. I let my hands fall from her face, but I didn’t move far.
“See?” I said, breathless but smiling. “Nothing to freak out about.”
14
Maren
By the time I got the girls to pick out pajamas that weren’t somehow “too scratchy” or “too cold,” my phone was buzzing on the nightstand. Liv’s name flashed on the screen. I checked the clock—seven-thirty. Right on schedule. She always called around this time, after dinner, before her nightly skincare ceremony.
I answered with a whisper, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear while wrestling Emma’s hair into something resembling a braid. “Hey, sorry. I’m neck deep in bedtime trials and tribulations.”
“How’s the job going?” Liv asked, totally oblivious. Her tone was casual, but the question hit harder than it should have.
“Oh. You know. It’s… good. Great. Really great.” I winced, hating myself for lying to her. Not about work being great, but Liv and I had been through enough that the mere omission of my, uh, extra-curricular activities was a blatant betrayal.
“You were more convincing telling those kids at the orphanage where we volunteered that Santa Claus is real.”
“I mean it’s a lot,” I said, forcing a smile even though she’d never see it. “But the kids are sweet. And Ethan’s, um, nice. Very professional and nice.”
“Professional?” she repeated, suspiciously slow.
“Yeah,” I said too brightly. “Like, very organized and always making an effort to make sure our calendars are synced up.”
Liv snorted. “You hate people who live and die by stringent calendar rules.”
“Do I? I don’t think I ever said that.” I cleared my throat in a lame attempt to get rid of the nagging squeak that would give me away.
“Yeah, you did, actually. Sophomore year of college. I remember, because it was about me.”
I waved Emma and Sadie into their beds, then set up their night light before flicking off the main one. It was my good fortune that they acknowledged I was on a call, and didn’t whine about a story. I was let off with a simple kiss blown to each of them, and I padded out of the room.
“Okay,” I said, once I was safely outside the danger zone. “Maybe I did say that. But it’s neither here nor there. It’s not the same thing.”
