"Hi," I reply softly, returning her smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were bringing them here. My dad said you were dropping them off, I assumed at the house."
"Yeah, he said to bring them here, I think... well, I think he knew what he was doing," she says, giving me a wry smile.
I return it, shaking my head, because yeah—my dad knew what he was doing. He could have told her to just bring them to the house, but my dad also discovered some things when he was working here while I was away.
Namely, that no one here knows really anything about me or my family.
He forced my hand, and I'll thank him for it the next time I see him.
"Thank you for bringing them here."
Wendy nods.
From here I can see Aubree back at the front desk. She's staring intently at the calendar on the computer, phone to her ear, and no doubt trying to distract herself with work.
Wendy follows my gaze, and I don't like the insecure look crossing her face.
"She's pretty."
Wendy's words click in my brain, and then I suddenly view Aubree's actions with context that I was clearly missing.
That specific look that she would give me, laughing a little too loud when I thought she was just bubbly, smiling and lingering, and buying me sandwiches and asking if I needed her for anything.
Oh, fuck...
"She's not you."
Wendy blinks, and I step toward her.
"There isno onebut you. There willneverbe anyone but you,"I whisper, meeting her eyes and holding. "Always."
"You said so, and—" Wendy closes her eyes and sighs softly. "I trust you, Atlas."
"Thank you," I choke out. "Thank you, baby."
Her trust in me is so precious and fragile right now. I picture cradling it gently and protecting it with everything in me.
Her trust. My sons' trust. I'll rebuild it all, brick by brick.
Starting now.
"I want to introduce you to my employees."
Wendy’s face drops slightly.
"I assumed they don't know about us," Wendy says, her voice hesitant in a way that makes me want to kick my own ass. She peers at me, "Was it because of..."
"Yeah," I nod, knowing she's referring to the nightmares, my mental illness, my choices.
"Okay," Wendy's face twists in hurt that I can feel in my own chest. "Okay. Well... better late than never."
I blink in surprise at her words.
More understanding than I deserve. I should have been shouting from the rooftops in pride about this woman. I realize now that it wasn't that my love was weaker than my fear of losing her; my fear was just louder.
My love for Wendy and my kids is immense; there isn't a scale that can accurately measure how much they mean to me.
So, now it's time to start showing that, because that's how I can drown out the fear.
