“Hey, buddy,” I say, fluffing up the small mound of light hair on his head. “Where’s your dad?”
Milo pulls his head back from my chest and his eyes are wide with excitement. “Da kitchen!”
I nod at Milo and stand up, following him into the kitchen on the other side of the house. I didn’t notice it before, but there’s a warm, rich chocolate scent wafting across the room.
When I walk into the kitchen, I’m surprised to find Colt leaning over a pan of freshly baked brownies. I put my hands on my hips and arch my brow. “You made brownies?”
“Hey, Em. You didn’t have to knock, you know.”
“I know,” I say, knowing full well I’ll continue to knock. “I didn’t know you baked.”
He never even set foot in the kitchen when we were together. For the first few years of our marriage, I was good at playing the stereotypical housewife, and by the time I decided I wanted a partner who helped around the house, it was already too late.
“It’s the Betty Crocker special,” he smiles, pointing to the discarded cardboard box in the trash. “Milo said he wanted something sweet, and apparently, I can’t say no to our son.”
I smile and lean into the hard marble counters. Colt was not a good husband, but he was an amazing dad. That’s one of the things that made it so hard to leave.
I feel Milo’s little arms latch onto my leg. I look down and his sight is aimed at the pan of freshly made sugar squares. If he has one, it won’t be easy to get him to bed. But I also don’t want to carry him out of here kicking and screaming. I wasn’t sure what battle I wanted to fight tonight.
“Just one. Okay, Mi?”
A huge grin spreads across his face, and I decide it’s a good decision for now. I know I will regret it later.
I secure a paper towel while Colt cuts Milo a small square. I hand the paper towel to Colt, and he hands the brownie to Mi, who’s eagerly looking up at us.
It’s times like this when I miss being a family. We were a good team when it came to parenting Milo, but we lacked the chemistry behind closed doors in a marriage. I guess it just ran out at some point without either of us noticing.
As soon as Milo gets his tiny hands on the brownie, he bolts to the living room to sit in front of whatever cartoon Colt turned on.
I turn to Colt, and he starts cleaning some of the dishes in the sink—another thing he didn’t do while we were married. I watch as he picks up a dirty pan and starts scrubbing. His shoulders are hunched over, and his expression is focused. It catches me off guard for a moment. I’m used to a man who always sat back while I handled all the never-ending household tasks. But now, here he is, sleeves rolled up, hands soapy, almost looking like a real partner.
“It’s…weird seeing you like this,” I sputter, wrapping my arms tightly around my chest. “Domestic, I mean.”
He glances over his shoulder, giving me his infamous tired dad smile. “People can change, Em. Not having you around made me realize how much you did around here. I…I’m sorry I didn’t step up when you needed me to.”
I want to say something, but the words stick in my throat. We’ve had this conversation multiple times. Most of the time, our couples therapist baited the apology out of him, but now, it felt like he actually meant it.
“I appreciate you saying that,” I say before grabbing a towel to start drying. A comfortable silence fills the kitchen, with Milo’s cartoons humming in the background.
A sharpness hits deep in my gut when I realize this is what I wanted from Colt during the last few months of our relationship. But even now in this moment, I know everything happens for a reason. I know we weren’t meant to lastforever. Eventually, we would both move on, but I’m glad we can still be friends even in the ruins of our failed marriage.
CHAPTER 10
“Have you ever readPride and Prejudice?” I ask Wren, who’s stretched out on our shared blanket in the grassy patch by the park. It’s early Tuesday afternoon, and the sun feels like it’s melting my skin from the inside out. Nearby, I catch a glimpse of Milo darting after a butterfly by the monkey bars.
“What?” she questions, sliding her sunglasses down to see the tattered book in my lap. “You’re reading a book?”
“Don’t act so surprised,” I defend. “Henry lent it to me, and I feel like I have to at least attempt to read it.”
“Oh,Henrylent it to you, huh?” Wren sneers while pushing herself up from her horizontal position. “You know, sometimes people lend you books because they think there’s something in there you need to see.”
I raise an eyebrow, letting Wren’s observation sink in. It was obviously ridiculous. “Oh, please. It’s just a book. He’s a professor, remember? It’s his job to educate people.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe he thinks you’re just as lovesick as Mr. Darcy was.”
I laugh it off, but her comment sticks in the back of my mind. “Or maybe he wants me to suffer. All of this oldEnglish is rough and it’s unbearably slow. I fell asleep reading it last night.”
“Oh! I’ve got it,” she exclaims, completely ignoring what I said. “Maybe he sees something in you that reminds him of Elizabeth Bennet. She’s strong-willed, won’t put up with any bullshit, and has a thing for difficult men.”
