My face softens involuntarily. That's my boy.
Across the aisle, Woody leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving Sanders. The professional detachment he wears like armor has slipped away, replaced by naked paternal pride.
Sanders spots us both. Instead of waving, he gives a sharp head nod and purses his lips, the kind of mock-cool move he’s picked up from TikTok or whatever it is he scrolls endlessly. Then, as if nothing happened, he straightens and belts the next line like a pro.
I wave back, my chest tight with emotion.
Woody and I lock eyes across the crowded aisle. We share a rare moment of pure, unguarded connection. We're not divorcees in this second, not enemies, not even separate people. We're just Sanders' parents, united in our love for this rizz-filled kid.
After Sanders is in bed,I can finally sit down with my sister for a recap of our day. She loves to stop by on her way home from work, and I cherish these wind-downs with her.
“I swear, Maggie, the way those women looked at himtonight…” I grip the wine glass like it might fly away. “It’s like he walked in trailing angel dust. Ridiculous.”
Maggie swirls her red wine and then sticks her nose in and inhales. She always likes to pretend she's a sommelier. “So you’re still keeping track of how women look at your ex?”
I shoot her a glare. “Stop. No. I'm just telling you how annoying he is.”
“It’s funny. You hate him, but you notice every time someone else doesn’t.”
I cut my eyes at her and give her the death stare over my wine glass.
Maggie tips her head, the twinkle in her eye ribbing me like only a little sister can. “Just saying. At least he shows up for Sanders.”
“That’s the only redeeming quality he’s got. If he’d been as absent for Sanders as he was for me when we were married, we'd have gone to blows years ago. I’ll take a lousy husband over a lousy dad any day.”
She nods, serious now. “Yeah, he was pretty bad those first few years. All hospital, all the time. I do wonder if he’s slowed down a little, or just finally figured out what matters.”
I trace a circle around the bottom of my glass. “Whatever it is, I’m grateful. Sanders adores his dad.”
Maggie leans in, voice soft. “He's not a bad guy, Lane. You know that. Just a shitty husband.”
“I'm sure he is. I just wish I didn't have to see him so often. But I've learned to go with it."
Maggie leans back and does that fluff thing she always does to her hair when she's thinking. “So what’s the plan this year for Christmas? You and Sanders going to Jerry’s family's house?”
The name grates on my nerves.Jerry and I have been trying to make a go of it for over four years, on again, off again, prolonging the inevitable. He's not a bad guy. I can't put my finger on why, he's just not the guy for me. “No plan. Jerry and I are done. I told you.”
Maggie inhales her wine again, giving me a side-eye smirk. “You and Jerry will probably make nice for Christmas. You two are like a bad Hallmark rerun—break up, get back together, repeat. I warned you years ago, he's not your person.”
I shake my head, the weight settling low in my chest. Do I even have a person?
“Not this time, Mags. Really. You were right, Jerry was never forever. He was a rebound. A very long rebound. And I’m finally done.”
"Longest rebound in history, but I agree. No going back, got it?"
"Hey. I was hungry for male attention. I would have settled for almost anyone after my divorce."
Her brows lift. "Woody is still my favorite, but I know he was lousy. I'm still getting over the fact that he let both of us down."
I roll the thin stem of my glass between my thumb and forefinger. “So it’s just me and Sanders. We're crashing your Christmas this year.”
The words scrape my throat as they leave my mouth. I don't want us to be stowaways in someone else's Christmas. Hence, why I could never fully leave Jerry. I crave that family that was never meant to be for me.
"Of course you are. We are much more fun than Jerry's family."
Maggie reaches for my hand, but I pull back with a tight smile. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be fine.”
"I know you will."
