Her face melts, and she smiles, tilting her chin up. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips.
Noah snickers, "That's what Liam was doing to Birdie yesterday!"
"Shut up, Noah!" Liam snaps, throwing a napkin at his laughing brother. Wendy goes to correct them, but I jump in first, needing to do this.
"Noah, stop being a tattle-tale," I tell my youngest, who looks chagrined as he nods. I then turn to my glowering oldest. "Liam, don't throw things and tell your brother to shut up."
Liam looks at me for a long, stubborn moment before he nods his head.
I then ask, "Are you sorry?"
Liam nods and turns to his brother, ruffling his hair. "Sorry, Noah."
"Sorry, Liam," Noah replies, and Liam smiles.
Wendy just watches me, not relieved or surprised, just taking note, though there's a small smile curving her lips.
My wife has always been the disciplinarian in our parenting—because, again, I thought she was more competent than I was—so I could just be the fun parent. No more.
These are my kids. This is parenthood. This is a partnership.
She reaches for my hand, and I grab it, placing a kiss on the soft skin.
No more words need to be said, and we all dig into breakfast.
As a family, once again.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wendy
March
"So, how are you doing?"
The question makes me smile. It used to not. I used to want to shrink away when Dr. Pace asked me that, but I later learned that was because it was a bit of an uncommon question.
Usually, when people saw me, their first question was about the boys or Atlas.
Because that's what I let my identity become—wife and mother.
"How are you doing?"
"Well, the boys—"
"No, Wendy, how are YOU doing?"
I genuinely had no idea how to answer that question. I was alive, so that was good. My boys were happy and healthy, so that was good. The house was clean, so that was good. Dinner was prepared, so that was good.
But how was I?
Not great. I was in a marriage that was cracked down the middle, my boys were distrustful of their father after his absence, my husband was having a mental health crisis, and if I didn't keep everything afloat, then it would all collapse.
But now? After months of therapy, of feeling every emotion under the sun, of healing, of hurting, of crying, of laughing, of reconnecting with not only my husband, but myself?
"I'm doing amazing. Still working at Mabel's, but mostly in the back now, which has been really nice. I think Mabel is looking to slow down a little bit, so she's been asking me aboutbecoming a manager and looking after the store for her."
"How do you feel about that?"
