Last night, Bonnie, who doesn't fully understand the situation besides the fact that I'm separated from my husband, saw a man looking at me while I was dancing and asked if I was interested in getting back out there.
No.
For two reasons.
One—this hasn't been about finding a new man—I wanted to find myself. Being Wendy blurred with being a mom and wife. I didn't find the old me; I've made a new version I like better.
Two—I'm still married, separated or not. And because I am Atlas' wife, I want him to get better. I want him to find himself again, to put himself back together in this new, better version that I've found.
And...
Well, because I don't want anybody but Atlas.
It's always been him. It will always be him.
But I want Atlas, who is a better father to our sons. I want Atlas, who comes home at night for dinner and kisses me, and asks about the boys and their days. I want Atlas, who knows the boys just as well as I do. I want Atlas who sees me, holds me, and makes love to me like he used to.
I want Atlas, who loves us more than he's scared of losing us.
And I think he's finding that Atlas.
So, I will be here for him and support him in any way I can.
And then maybe one day...
Taylor looks around, "Did we drop off Bonnie?"
I snort. "Last night."
"Oh God, I don't even remember that," Taylor groans, leaning her head on her hands. I laugh, placing a glass of water and a piece of bread in front of her. "Please tell me that I didn't do something embarrassing."
"You know you could never do anything embarrassing... but you did tell Trey he looked hot about five times," Taylor groans and takes a sip of her water, while I add, "And he was flattered! You should text him today."
"I don't even have his number."
"Check again," I smile, "Because you practically threw your phone at him to put his number in."
Taylor's eyes widen, and she reaches into her hoodie pocket, pulling out her phone. Her nails click on the screen a few times before she gasps.
"Oh my God..." Taylor breathes, before turning the phone around to show me the contact photo—a blurry, but honestly cute, picture of Trey and Taylor at the bar. She's cheesing so hard, her beautiful face pressed up against his very handsomeone.
They look really good together.
"Aww..." I coo, and Taylor just glares at me before she gags and drops her head onto the cool countertop.
"Why do hangovers last three to five business days after thirty?"
"Because we're old now," I smile, and she grumpily bites into her bread.
???
He said he would be here.
I keep glancing at the clock on my phone, the minutes inching toward the start of Liam's game. The boys are still warming up, and every time Liam looks up to me on the bleachers, I have to give him a casual shrug like I'm saying,he'll be here, don't worry.
Which I hate, because Iamworrying right now.
When I picked up the boys on Sunday night, no one was in the house. Emmett's truck wasn't in the driveway, and I assumed that Diane was upstairs.
