He nodded, sipping his beer. “Fair.”
We sat there in silence for a second, and I felt it… the tiredness, yes, but also the longing. The wanting to be us again. The wanting to want him without thinking about laundry and forms and whether Ruby needed white noise.
I caved first.
“Okay, but Ruby tried to eat a button today,” I said.
Dan grinned. “Why exactly?”
And just like that, the kids were back on the table. Not because we were boring. Because they’re our shared language now.
We did try. We really did.
But life kept happening.
Babysitters cancelled. Bugs hit. We’d collapse into Netflix and fall asleep mid-episode while Dan absentmindedly rubbed my foot with one toe.
Romance at its peak.
At some point, I can’t pinpoint when, I found the notebook.
The one I bought from the stationery shop, gold-edged and optimistic, like pretty paper could save a marriage.
I’d written:
THE LIST
Weekly date night (non-negotiable!)
No talking about kids on date night
Keep flirting alive (texts, bum squeezes)
Make time for intimacy (code for shagging)
Take turns planning surprises
