I blink, startled by the question. There’s no jealousy in his tone, just curiosity. Maybe even a touch of encouragement. Still, it feels strange to talk about that stuff with him. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “We were on a date.”
Colt nods slowly, his expression unreadable from this angle. “Good. That’s good. You deserve to do something for yourself.”
The unexpected support catches me off guard, and I turn my body toward him. “It feels weird,” I confess. “With everything so new.”
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “It’s been a year, Em. You’re allowed to move on.” Then, teasingly, he adds, “Though you might want to warn your dates about Milo’s dare-devil capabilities. We thought he was a handful when he learned how to walk.”
A hard laugh escapes me despite everything that happened tonight. “Noted.”
But the laughter doesn’t last. After everything tonight, my mind feels raw and detached. In moments like this, I question everything. I start wondering if Colt and I could’ve made it work. Had we just held on a little longer, could we have gotten through the rough patches? But deep down, I already know the answer.
Suddenly, it becomes too much, and I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Do you think we could’ve made it work?” My throat feels dry immediately after I ask the question.
Colt exhales sharply, his hands tightening on the steeringwheel. “I’ve asked myself that a hundred times,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think we both know the answer.”
I swallow hard when he repeats the words I was thinking. “I guess I just wonder if we didn’t try hard enough. If I didn’t fight for us more.”
“Emma, no.” His voice is firm, almost forceful. “You always do that. You always try to take the blame for everything. It wasn’t you. Or at least, not just you. We both wanted things but didn’t know how to ask for them—or even what they were.”
I look over at him, surprised by the honesty. This is the most we’ve ever talked about our relationship without being prompted by a therapist. “What did you want?”
He chuckles dryly. “Hell, I don’t know. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t just surviving. Like there was more to life than paychecks and responsibilities piling up. I wanted to be enough for you and Milo, but half the time, I felt like I didn’t know how to be there for either of you. What about you?”
I hesitate, searching for the right words. “I wanted to feel seen. Like I wasn’t just ‘Colt’s wife’ or ‘Milo’s mom.’ Like I mattered as more than what I could give.”
Colt’s jaw tightens, and he nods slowly. “I get that now. I didn’t then, but I do now. You mattered, Emma. You still do.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I blink hard against the sting of tears. “I think we just ran out of space to figure it out together,” I say.
“Yeah,” he agrees, his tone tinged with regret but not bitterness. “But look, we’re doing okay, right? For Milo?”
I smile faintly, glancing back at our sleeping son. “Yeah. We are.”
The quiet settles again, but it feels like an old friend. As we pull onto the side street where my car is waiting, Colt parks and turns to me.
“You’re allowed to move on, you know,” he says, his voicegentle. “You deserve to be happy, Em. And if Henry—or whoever—can give you that, don’t let guilt stop you.”
I nod and bite my lip, holding back the emotions threatening to spill over. “You deserve that too, Colt.”
“Thanks, Em. I still have a lot of my own shit I’m working through, but I appreciate you saying that.”
I give him one last smile before opening my door and heading to the backseat to untangle my sleepy son from his car seat. Colt stops me before I shut the door and says, “Take care of yourself, okay? And call if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promise before shutting the door.
As he drives off, I stand there, holding Milo close and watching the taillights disappear into the night. There’s still so much to figure out, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe—just maybe—we’re heading in the right direction.
CHAPTER 18
Milo’s head sits snugly against my body as I trudge up the steps to my front door. Tonight had not ended how I expected it to. But plans being derailed, emergencies happening, and guilt crashing in were all a part of the harsh reality of dating as a single parent.
When I reach the top of the steps, my head turns to the second level of the duplex, where warm light spills out of the window above. My heart creaks against my chest.
The way Henry rolled with everything tonight had left me feeling exposed. He made me feel like my situation wasn’t a burden or an inconvenience. It made me feel like this thing between us could work, and where I had prepared for struggle, Henry met me with acceptance and compassion.
I should’ve been happy, but I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I couldn’t truly be happy until we met our first big obstacle.
I adjust Milo in my arms and fumble with my keys, a sigh escaping my lips when I finally push open the door. Inside, the familiar scent of the sandalwood candle I lit earlier still lingers, a quiet reminder of everything that didn’t happen tonight.
