I wasn’t for Derek. He moved on… fast.
“What if you are?” Carol counters. “What if you stop waiting for the other shoe to drop and just trust that you deserve this?”
I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her so badly.
But as I walk inside and watch the twins show me their picture— a crayon drawing of four stick figures labeled “Daddy,” “Chloe,” “Ava,” and “Mia”— all I can think is:This isn’t permanent. Nothing’s permanent.
And maybe I need to start protecting my heart before it’s too late.
Chapter 13
Jonah
Something’s wrong with Chloe.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started —maybe three days ago, maybe a week— but there’s a distance between us that wasn’t there before. She still shows up at the bakery every morning, still helps with the twins, still sleeps in my bed.
But she’s nothere. Not really.
It’s Tuesday morning, five a.m., and we’re working side by side making croissants. Usually she asks questions, makes jokes, tells me about her day. Today she’s been silent for twenty minutes, mechanically folding dough with perfect precision.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her face.
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t look up. “Just… tired.”
“You sure? You seem... I don’t know. Off.”
“I’m fine, Jonah.” Her voice has an edge I’m not used to. “Can we just focus on the croissants?”
I let it drop, but unease settles in my chest like a stone.
She leaves right at seven —earlier than usual— saying she needs to prep for her class. She kisses me goodbye, but it’s quick. Perfunctory. Like she’s checking a box.
At lunch, I come home to find her grading papers at the kitchen table while the twins play in the living room. She looksup when I walk in, and I swear I see something like guilt flash across her face before she smiles.
“Hey. You’re home early.”
“Wanted to see you.” I lean down to kiss her, and she melts for a second, before tensing. “How was school?”
“Good. The kids are working on their book reports.” She goes back to her papers, red pen moving in quick, efficient strokes. “How was the bakery?”
“Busy. Vincent asked if we’re coming to his engagement party next weekend.” I sit down across from her, studying her face. “I told him yes, but I wanted to check with you first.”
“Oh. Um.” She frowns at the paper in front of her. “Let me check my calendar.”
“Chloe.” I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.” She pulls her hand away, gathering her papers. “I just need to stay on top of my work. The permanent position opens up soon, and I need to make sure I’m doing my very?—”
“Best,” we say together.
I hold her hand. “Honey, you’ll get it. We’ve talked about this.”
“You don’t know that.” Her voice is sharp now, defensive. “You can’t promise that, Jonah. Nobody can.”
The twins appear in the doorway, and Chloe’s expression shifts —softens— as Mia runs over.
“Chloe, will you play dolls with us?”
