I groan and hide my face in his chest. It vibrates with his quiet laughter.
“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around my bare shoulders. “It’s a good story. Me asking you out. You telling me you were gay.”
“I thought you were a player,” I mutter into his skin. “Besides, admit it. The chance of seeing girl-on-girl action is what kept you following me around.”
He snorts. “No. I knew you were lying. I just wanted to see if you’d actually kiss a girl to prove it.”
“How’d you know I was lying?” I ask, peeking up at him.
“When I asked you to coffee, you were biting your lip and staring at my chest the whole time.” He demonstrates, biting his lip and giving me an exaggerated, over-the-top look.
“I did not look like that.”
“Please,” he says. “You were practically thirsting for this bod.” He gestures dramatically to himself.
I pinch his side. “It’s a dad bod now.”
Before he can retaliate, I scramble out of bed and run toward the bathroom, laughing.
After a longer-than-necessary two-person shower, Logan gets the kids and the dogs up while I start breakfast.
It feels like before.
So normal it’s giving me whiplash.
I prayed for things to go back to this. For the ease. The teasing. The rhythm of us moving around each other in the kitchen without bumping or bristling.
And now that it’s here, I don’t trust it.
Not at all.
Part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Logan to snap out of it and realize he can’t handle it after all. Or worse, this is some elaborate revenge fantasy where he makes me believe we’re fine only to show up at therapy with divorce papers.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
He walks into the kitchen holding River, with Myles trailing behind them. Bell and Ty weave between their legs like furry traffic cones.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, grabbing both our travel mugs and following him out the door.
We pause at the driveway, both of us staring at the cars.
We’ve been taking separate ones because… well. You know. And before that, I wasn’t even going into the office regularly. Now we’re just standing here like two people who have no idea how this works.
“We’re gonna be late,” Myles declares dramatically, stomping toward the closest car. Mine.
River copies him immediately.
“Well,” I say, opening the passenger door, “I guess that solves that.”
Logan huffs a quiet laugh and catches the keys I toss at him.
The boys wave to the dogs through the living room window while Logan backs out of the driveway. Bell tilts her head. Ty just stares, face dropping on his paws.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to squish my furry babies’ faces before leaving, but we learned the hard way that dramatic goodbyes only make it worse. Leaving calmly actually helps them adjust.
We haven’t had a grumpy neighbor call about howling dogs since we started this approach.
