Not by hiding, but by expressing.
At Wendy's prompting, Noah puts his headphones around his neck and puts his tablet in his bag. She swings her purse over her shoulder and takes Noah's hand as I lead them, Liam trudging up the back, out to the front desk.
"Aubree," I say, and the blonde tenses, glancing at the phone as if she's willing it to ring. It doesn't. She turns fully toward us, still a little pale. "This is Wendy, my wife."
"Hi, Aubree," Wendy smiles, holding out her hand.
Aubree stares at it for a long moment, like it's a trick, beforeshe weakly shakes it. "Hi... M-Mrs. Durant... sorry about... yeah..."
"Just Wendy," my wife corrects her with a small smile that Aubree returns after a moment of hesitation.
"This is my son, Noah," I say, nodding to the boy who's peeking at Aubree from behind Wendy. Aubree smiles softly at him and waves, Noah shyly waving back before hiding his face in Wendy's side. "And... this is Liam."
My wife then glances at my son, who's standing next to her with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Liam," she hisses low, and he sighs, closing his eyes for three seconds.
He's regulating himself, I realize. When he opens his eyes, he nods with an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry," Liam says, his voice sounding remorseful.
Wendy's lips curve in a small, proud smile, and I feel the coil in my gut loosen slightly.
"No—I'm sorry—I didn't—" Aubree shakes her head, stumbling over her words.
"You didn't know," Wendy assures her, and Aubree's face relaxes a bit, seeing that Wendy is not mad.
"Hey, Aubree, why don't you start the weekend early?" I say, and her eyes widen at that. "We'll still pay you for the full day."
"Thank you," she says, sounding relieved. She grabs her purse and swings it over her shoulder, glancing back at Wendy. "Ireallyam so—"
"It's alright," Wendy says, glancing back over to me, clearly saying that it was up tometo tell people that I'm married.
I glance down at the tattoo on my ring finger. The roman numerals have faded, and they’re usually not visible through the grease and oil on my hands every day. I never have my shirt off, either, so people can't question who Wendy is that's tattooed across my chest.
Aubree nods at Wendy before walking right out the front door to her car.
The guys at their bays are discreetly trying to watch thedrama, and I know that they're next. Gesturing them towards us, they share a glance before walking over and stepping through the door.
Jordan and Jason are identical twins in their early twenties, hired six months ago and already two of our best mechanics. They’re able to tag-team to get big jobs done fast.
Their identical blue eyes shift back and forth between my wife and me.
"Hey, boss," Jordan says, a bemused grin on his face.
Straightening my spine and puffing out my chest, I speak with pure love and pride as I say, "This is my wife, Wendy. And my sons, Liam and Noah."
They blink in unison.
"Oh," Jason says, eyes wide and glancing back and forth between us. "We didn’t—"
"It's nice to meet you," Jordan says, cutting off Jason and holding out his hand for Wendy.
He goes to pull it back, realizing that he's got grease and oil on it, but my wife just reaches out and takes it, getting her own hands dirty to be kind.
She shakes his hand before holding hers out to Jason, who shakes it with a small smile.
Bryce is on the far bay, completely focused on his task—and we've learned that he's someone who gets easily distracted, so when he's in the zone, leave him be.
