I freeze. We both do.
“Maybe if we ignore it,” Dan whispers.
“MUUUUM! I had a bad dream!”
Fuck
I groan and roll out of bed. “Hold that thought.”
When I return ten minutes later, Dan is sprawled on his back, one arm over his eyes, his breath deepening like he’s about to drift off.
“Still in the mood?” I joke, climbing back in.
He lifts his arm just enough to look at me. “I mean… I’d rally for you.”
I laugh and curl into his side. Maybe we’re out of practice. Maybe we’ll have to try again tomorrow. But at least now, we’re trying.
And for the first time in a long time, that feels like something.
Because even if this is messy and awkward and ridiculous…
It’s us.
And maybe that’s enough to start.
For now.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA
A week into our “reset,” we plan an official going-out date night.
Not a “let’s eat pasta at the table and pretend Ruby won’t streak through the hallway” date night.
A real one.
All the ingredients of romance: fancy clothes, a reservation at a restaurant where no one offers crayons for the table, and the delicious possibility of remembering we’re not just Mum and Dad, we’re Emma and Dan.
Yes, there’s the stress of organising a babysitter.
Hannah to the rescue… again.
And yes, there’s the briefing. The minor (major) changes in what the kids expect since the last time she babysat.
Oscar needs his dinosaur nightlight on but not too bright. Sophie needs two sips of water, not three, because three is “too many.” Ruby needs her bunny and a very specific song, whispered, not sung, or she will scream like she’s being exorcised.
Hannah stands in our hallway listening with the patient expression of a woman with no children and a fully functioning nervous system.
“I feel like I should be getting paid extra for this,” she says, deadpan.
“You should be getting a medal,” I reply, and I mean it.
Dan squeezes my hand briefly as we step outside, and the second the door closes behind us I feel it, this strange mix of freedom and guilt.
I nearly talk myself out of it in the first thirty seconds.
Then I remember Dan telling me to start putting myself first.
