Noah was eight months old, and Jem was fascinated with the color of his hair—the same shade as mine—and kept petting it gently while saying, "red."
The grandparents watched the kids one night, giving the four of us a break, and we went into town together. We felt like teenagers on a double date, holding hands, stealing kisses, briefly living in a world without responsibility or diapers.
Carrie and I dressed up, though I remember feeling self-conscious because I hadn't lost all the weight from my pregnancy with Noah, tugging at the tight top I was in.
Carrie assured me that I looked amazing and admitted to me that she still hadn't shed the remaining ten pounds she still had from Jem. She admitted, with a saucy smile, that Silas didn't want her to, anyway.
That seemed to be a Durant thing, because when I walked downstairs to my waiting husband, he looked very hungry for me, his eyes dark and intense in a way that made my heart flutter.
"You look so damn beautiful, baby," he murmured, kissingme sweetly when we climbed in his truck.
And I felt beautiful. Atlas always made me feel beautiful, even when I was unshowered, in sweatpants and a milk-stained t-shirt, with an infant clinging to me.
He looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real.
We went to the bar, which was packed with locals and tourists. Carrie and I danced while our men stayed at the bar watching whatever game was on TV, until we dragged them to dance with us.
Someone put Sam Cooke on the jukebox, Atlas pulled me close as we slow-danced, hands and eyes roaming all over my body, and he kissed me.
On the ride back to the cabin, back to my babies, with my husband's hand in mine, I remember thinking how perfect my life was.
"Mama, wanna play?"
Noah's sweet voice pulls me out of the memory, and I turn to see him holding his controller out to me, his face hopeful.
Liam is looking at me too, his brows furrowed with concern. The reminder of why I came up here in the first place hits me, especially when I hear footsteps outside the door, walking back and forth down the hallway.
"No, thank you, baby," I say softly, smiling as I take a steadying breath. "But can I talk to you both really quick? You can go back to playing after."
Noah's head tilts, his little brow knitting together, but he nods. Liam takes the controller from him and pauses the game, muting the television so I don't have to tell my sons their father and I are breaking up while the Mario Kart theme plays cheerfully in the background.
I pat the bed next to me. Noah plops down on one side while Liam comes to the other and I wrap my arms around both of my boys.
Noah cuddles into my side instantly, like he always does, and Liam doesn't even resist with any teenage annoyance.
"So, I know you were a little surprised when you saw yourdaddy here, right?" I ask Noah, who nods his head, looking a little uncertain now. Liam's jaw clenches. "Daddy is packing up his things. He's going to be living at Pop and Mom-Moms now."
Noah's eyes narrow slightly, head tilted like he's processing my words. Liam's expression remains carefully neutral, but the flicker of relief I see there hurts more than anything else.
Relief at his dad not being here anymore, relief at not living with a shadow haunting the house. I squeeze his shoulder, and the corners of his mouth tilt upward in a small smile meant just for me.
"You guys will be spending the weekends there," I say, filling the heavy silence. "Does that sound okay?"
"With him?" Noah asks, his voice a whine.
"Do we have to?" Liam demands at the same time, his question making me wince.
"Yes," I answer both of them with a sigh, choosing my words carefully. "I know your father has been... gone lately. But that's going to change. You'll be spending more time with him now."
"Why?" Noah asks, his voice small.
"Yeah," Liam cuts in sharply, "because he hasn't been around, so why now? We've been doing just fine without him."
The anger in Liam's voice makes my mom-hackles rise. I knew he was angry; Trey had told me that. I didn't truly understand how much resentment had built up.
It makes me think of my own mother, the resentment I had built toward her, and how sour it tasted. I had to let that go. Liam will have to one day as well.
"Because..." I start, my voice cracking slightly, before I try again. "Because he needs to be. Hewantsto be. He's your father. I know he's messed up this past year—"
