“They’re all inside,” he says, not quite the question I asked. “We’re still doing all the wedding prep stuff, and I’m, uh—”
“You were hiding out here,” I finish for him, and he gives a bashful laugh, nodding.
“We should go in—oh, wipe your feet out here, Mom will go postal if we track dirt inside again. She’s been, well, you know. She’s Mom.”
He wrinkles his nose, giving me a knowing look. I can only imagine what it’s been like to share a roof with her while she fusses over planning and preparation. Homesickness twists in my chest with that hint of bitterness.
He grabs my backpack up off the ground, and I follow him inside.
“GUESS WHO’S HERE,” Aiden bellows as he throws open the front door, kicking his shoes off on the welcome mat; flecks of muddy water still make it onto the polished tile.
The light that hangs from the high ceiling sways a little at the sheer volume of his entrance, the only response.
It looks the same as it always did, but cleaner. The front hall is empty, but the hardwood floors are shiny, and the room is overpowered by the scent of lemony cleaning products.
“That’s a little disappointing.”
“Pssh. Mom’ll go nuts once you see her.”
I hang my bag up with the rest of the raincoats, since it’s wet. The same way I did for years and years. It’s strangely easy to just come home. Like the last eight years was nothing at all.
“Where is Mom?”
The further I step into the house, the more it smells like home, but there’s something warmer about it. Like cinnamon and nutmeg, and something unplaceable. It’s familiar, but it makes me feel a little on edge. My heart’s still hammering in my chest, the tension winding tighter when it should be easing up.
“I think they’re all still in the dining room.” Aiden shrugs, and heads that way,
“Everyone?” I repeat, because the word gives me pause as I follow him. “Hey, when am I going to meet Logan’s fiancée—”
I cut myself off, the breath knocked out me when my eyes fall on her. My heart stops short, like it knew ahead of me that I was about to go over a cliff.
There, in the dining room with the rest of my family, is my wife.
5
Elise
I’ve thought a lot about how I wanted things to go if I ever ran into my ex-husband again. A lot of the scenarios I cooked up involved being forty pounds lighter and wearing some kick-ass heels so I could step on his self-worth with them.
When I went to some therapy, I decided I didn’t care, actually. Because I wasn’t ever going to see him, never, ever again. I didn’t need to make him know what he missed out on, to grovel and tell me how he was wrong and full of regrets. I don’t need that, and, more importantly, I don’twantthat anymore. I don’t even like wearing heels.
All the blood draining from his face when he looks at me feels pretty damn good though.
Except that a moment later, I realize we’re still standing in the dining room. I’m at a job. I have half an urge to tell him to go away because he shouldn’t be here, like this is just some non-sequitur in a work-stress-dream.
Deanna was just telling me about all her plans for Logan’s wedding, the various hors d’oeuvres she wants served while guests arrive at the reception, what tables we’ll need to set out, how she’s going to arrange furniture best for that. I was so excited to show her how good of a cake I can make; I talked her into letting me use her kitchen to try the recipes out. The first two of the three cake recipes are in the oven, and the vanilla-bourbon recipe smells amazing. We’re making plans while theybake for how the kitchen will be stocked to accommodate all the extra food.
“Dude,” Aiden says, the youngest of the two brothers, as I look around to him, Logan, and Deanna. I’ve always been able to see the resemblance when they stand in the same room, the way they all have the same angular nose and divoted chin, but it’s a little too present right now.
Slowly, it clicks into place.
This must be what it feels like to have a stroke or an aneurysm, I think. I’ve had nightmares kinder than this. I swivel my gaze to each of them, and land on Deanna. My boss looks as puzzled as I feel.
That’s his mom.Holy shit.
“Shawn?” Deanna looks at her son with a face full of concern, glancing back at me. “What are you doing here?”
I stare back at Deanna, looking at her with new eyes.
