NATALIE
The crispness in the air reminded me of home—Indiana. It was an autumn day, and it felt like it, even though we were in Southern California. The subtle chill kissed my skin as I waited at the gate for my children. Memories of the Midwest crept in, where fall meant jackets, bonfires, and the smell of wet leaves clinging to the air.
I never thought I’d miss the changing rhythm of the seasons, but at that moment, those memories made me feel like a small piece of me was back where I belonged.
It was on that thought I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned around, coming back to reality. There was Will, standing behind me, looking effortlessly handsome in a sweater. His blue eyes seemed to pierce right through me. His smile was so genuine, that for a brief second, I felt like the world around this quiet moment had paused.
“Hi,” his rich voice purred in my ears, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I wanted to thank you for getting Ivy her book at thebook fair. I really appreciate it. Can I buy you a drink to show my gratitude?”
I laughed, a little surprised at the offer. “It was no problem at all,” I replied, trying to sound casual, though my heart started beating faster than I cared to admit.
“It meant a lot. Things have been a little messy with the divorce. Well, let's just say we’re kind of slacking as parents lately.”
So, he is divorced.A jolt ran through me, sharp and unfamiliar. A quiet relief flickered through me, quick and unbidden. He was single. That shouldn’t matter. After all, I was married. It wasn’t supposed to matter. And yet, it did.
I could see exhaustion in his eyes, and it tugged at something inside me. I felt sympathy for him. Divorce wasn’t easy, especially when kids were involved. My own parents’ split was messy and painful, and still lingered in the back of my mind. I remembered the way their arguments echoed in our small house, how the tension between them turned into something colder than I could ever understand at the time.No one ever truly recovers from that, I thought.
“Ivy’s a great kid,” I said, offering a small smile.
“She is,” Will replied. “But I worry about her. The divorce hit her harder than I expected, honestly. And Kelly…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if he were dismissing a thought he didn’t want to share.
I found myself compelled to offer something, more than just Midwest friendliness. “Why don’t you take my number? In case you need help with Ivy. Bebe would love to have a playdate with her.”
Will seemed touched by the offer. He handed me his phone, his fingers brushing mine as I entered my contact information. I felt a twinge as we touched, however brief. It was like anelectric pulse running through me. Ridiculous. I was married, I reminded myself,to Jason.
I handed his phone back just as I saw my kids emerging from the school building. Seeing them snapped me back to reality. The momentary connection I felt with Will evaporated, even if the sensation from his touch lingered.
We said goodbye, and I returned to my life. But it wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. I replayed the encounter in my mind as if it held more weight than it really did. I tried to shake it off. After all, we were just parents exchanging numbers for a playdate. That was all. Nothing more.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of routine—school drop-offs, grocery runs, and laundry while half-listening to podcasts I’d already listened to. This week, Jason was in Chicago or maybe New York, and for once, I didn’t miss the sound of him moving around the house. It was quieter. But not lonelier. Just… quieter.
By Thursday night, the house had settled into that post-bedtime stillness, the kind that makes you feel like a reward you forgot you earned.
I poured myself a glass of wine and wandered downstairs, picking up an abandoned crayon and snack wrappers here and there. I stared at the dishes in the kitchen sink.
Instead of starting on them, I turned on music, soft and classic Fleetwood Mac filled the room, low and familiar. I leaned against the counter, the wine warming my chest, and finally let myself think about Will.
Was he dating? I wondered if women flirted with him, and if anyone else felt that pulse of something I felt when he smiled.
I shouldn’t have been thinking about his mouth. But I was, and about what it would feel like to kiss him.
I closed my eyes, letting the music drift over me. I was married. I had kids. I knew better. But knowing didn’t stop the wondering.
When I opened my eyes, the moment had passed, but the curious side of me had not. The thoughts continued as I rinsed the dishes and turned off the lights.
By the next afternoon, I was back in motion. The spell of the night before had faded, replaced by the thud of backpacks on the floor, half zipped lunchboxes, crumbled permission slips and worksheets from the week stuffed into overpacked folders..
Jason’s Uber pulled into the driveway not long after. He was home, just in time for the weekend. And I stepped back into my role as wife, mother, scheduler of snacks and feelings. Like always.
The weekends moved as weekends do. A birthday party at the park for a classmate of James. I took James and Bebe. Jason stayed behind to catch up on work. Bebe cried when she bumped heads with another child in the jump house. I made small talk with moms I didn’t know, nodding along and counting down the minutes until it was over. Camille didn’t make it to this party. She was at her beach home in Coronado. I couldn’t let her miss out on all the fun.
Natalie: You left me to fend for myself. They have a Labubu cake at this party.
Camille: No, stop it. Those scary dolls?
Natalie: I think the gift bags have one in them. I am going to have nightmares.
Camille: Hang in there, only twenty-five more of your Saturdays will be filled with children’s birthdays this school year. Tate’s calling me, heading to The Del for a drink. Kiss kiss.
