Dillon was upstairs getting dressed and Riley was fixing French toast for Easter Sunday breakfast when her phone buzzed with a text from Josh.
We need to talk.
She hit the call icon. When he picked up, she said, “We talked just last night, remember?”
“Well, I need to talk some more. When can we do that?”
“Josh. It’s Easter. I have to be at Annette’s in an hour. We’re going to church and then back to her house, where Dillon will hunt Easter eggs in the backyard.”
He just went right on. “Tomorrow night, then? Or Tuesday night? Shane’s with Lenore this week, so any night is good. Just let me know when Dillon is tucked in bed, and I’m on my way. I won’t put a move on you, promise. I just want to talk…” He sounded so sincere, and she loved that about him. He was honest to the core.
She flipped the French toast. “I’m feeling a little bit overwhelmed, that’s all.”
A silence on his end. Then, in a careful tone, “You need some space, is that what you’re saying?”
Did she need space?
Yeah. She did.
A few days of distance would be a good thing, a few days during which she wouldn’t have to talk to him about the baby, wouldn’t be required to come to any sort of agreement or to make plans for their future as co-parents. A few days where she could take a breath, decompress—and yeah, pretend that nothing had changed.
“How about Friday evening?” she offered.
After a slight hesitation, he replied, “Friday works.” Did he sound disappointed that she’d put him off until then? Yes, Friday did seem a long way away. But she did need a little distance. In recent months, they’d been together every chance they got.
“All right then,” she said. “I’ll text you Friday evening once Dillon’s in bed. Have a good week, Josh.”
“You, too.”
* * *
Friday night…
Josh scowled as Riley ended the call. He did not want to wait six full days to see her. He and Riley had a whole lot to talk about, and he needed to see her right now.
But he wasn’t going to see her now. Because she required space—from him of all people.
Yeah, okay. She had every damn right to need space. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He tossed his phone on the kitchen table, dropped into a chair and sat there scowling at nothing for a good ten minutes.
He was sulking, plain and simple. So shoot him. Riley had a right to her space—and he had a right to sulk alone in his quiet kitchen like an overgrown child.
He sat there for a while longer trying to decide whether or not to add whiskey to his second mug of morning coffee.Getting drunk at eight on Easter Sunday morning wasn’t exactly a good idea. But it did go well with his current mood.
The doorbell rang.
He scowled all the harder. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Right now, he needed to be alone and feel sorry for himself.
Maybe if he just sat there and waited, his uninvited guest would just go away.
The doorbell rang again.
“Fine,” he grumbled to the empty kitchen as he pushed back his chair.
The last person he expected to see was standing on the other side when he opened the front door. She had a dog with her, for some reason. A male with tan and white markings and the look of an overlarge beagle. No collar or tags, but the dog certainly seemed to know how to behave. It sat tall at her feet, head up, panting a little, as though really hoping to be invited inside.
“Hello, Joshua,” Annette Thompson said. “Beautiful property you have here.” She patted the dog on the head. The animal glanced up at her adoringly. “And I love your dog, though you really must put a collar and tags on this fine fellow—and perhaps keep a closer eye on him. I found him wandering your access road.”
As though on cue, the dog whined and swept his tail back and forth on the mat.
