I close my planner and nod, giving her space to work through what she’s feeling. I know all about transitions and the waythey can create problems that you never saw coming. The way stepping into something new can shake loose parts of your life that you thought were steady. But I also know they can change you. Stretch you. Help you grow in ways you never would have if you’d stayed safe.
It’s developmentally appropriate for kids to sometimes develop a stutter at this age but I’m a teacher, not a therapist, and I can’t help Amber process whether she did the right thing by moving her family back to Brookhaven.
“I also feel like I’m… you know, distractedtoo,” she continues. “Like I’m not giving her my full attention. We just bought a house on the lake, and it needs quite a few renovations done that I’m having to manage when I finish with work and she’s home.”
My mouth goes dry. I nod carefully, forcing my expression to stay neutral.
“And well… between us,” Amber continues, lowering her voice a little, “I asked my ex-husband to come take a look at the bathroom. See if it’s something he would be able to do.”
I already knew this, technically. But Gabriel said he wasn’t going to take the job. So, did something change his mind? Or was Roman’s half-brother suddenly unavailable and Gabriel had to step in to finish the project?
She exhales, shaking her head. “I don’t know. It was kind of strange having him in my house. I wondered if he was looking at the life I’ve built with my husband, and you know… feeling anything? I thought it’d be a good idea because I love his style—he’ssotalented. I mean, he’s always been so freaking good with his hands.”
I swear I stop breathing. I might not even be blinking. I definitely feel like I’m failing at acting like a normal human being right now. I just hope Amber can’t tell.
Don’t remind me about his hands. Iknowhow good his handsare. They’re big, strong, veined and tatted. Gabriel has the nicest hands I’ve ever seen on a man and that’s not because he can build pretty much anything with them too.
“...But instead,” she continues, “He pushed the project off to someone in his family. Said he didn’t have the time to take on another thing.” She makes a face. “It’s probably for the best. I still care about him. I want to be sure there’s no bad blood between us. But I also know I can’t really do that and be fair to my husband. I shouldn’t care.”
Yikes.
I nod my head but don’t respond. This is a conversation I shouldn’t be involved in because I’m heavily biased. Young love. Old feelings. I mean… hewasher husband once. I guess I can understand how it might stir something inside her.
She looks at me like she’s waiting for me to say something.
“Yeah,” I say carefully, my voice even. “I’m sure that was strange to see him again.”
She nods, completely oblivious to the war that’s raging inside my head.
“Exactly.” She exhales sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the thoughts. “You know, I never stopped caring for him.”
The admission lands in the space between us, heavy and suffocating. My stomach twists. It’s wrong—this conversation, her confiding in me of all people even though she doesn’t know what we’ve done. The way he’s touched me. The way that he’s held me. Gabriel isn’t mine, I know that. I don’t have a claim on him. But hearing her talk about him like that, like she still has some tether to him, some invisible pull she doesn’t understand, well, it makes me want to claw at my skin until I get some relief.
Is this what I’ll be reduced to when I move out of Gabriel’s house tomorrow? A decade later, married to someone else, justlike Amber, wondering if he was the one that got away? Saying that Inever stopped caring for him.
Fuck all that.
I force my face into something neutral, something non-committal.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally, shaking my head. “I don’t think I can offer any advice. That feels very personal.”
She laughs, a little self-deprecating, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “You’re right. God, I’m sorry for unloading all of that on you. I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” A pause, then—“I know you’re divorced, so I wondered if you ever feel that way when you see your ex? Does it bring up old, confusing feelings? Do you still care about him?”
I haven’t seen my ex-husband in over a year, and I prefer it that way. Last time I saw him was at our final divorce discussion and his very pregnant mistress was seated next to him, glaring at me as if I had personally offended her.
If Ididsee him again, I feel one hundred percent confident that I wouldn’t give two shits about him, nor would I feel anything at all. Lately, he’s stopped crossing my mind. And when he does, it isn’t good or bad.
“No,” I say simply. “I don’t. We separated for a reason. We’ve both moved on. There’s no point in rehashing the past. When something ends, there’s a reason. It’s best to accept that reason and move forward.” And I mean that. Every word.
Amber presses her lips together and nods. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”
She pushes up from her chair and laughs like she didn’t just admit to having unresolved feelings for the man I slept with a week ago. A man who she hasn’t been married to forover a decade now.
“Well. Thank you again. I’ll look out for that referral for Everlywhen you get a chance.”
I stand, shake her hand, and watch her disappear out the door. And then I sink into my chair, staring blankly at the wall, because—what the hell am I supposed to do with this information?
Gabriel has been very clear—he has no feelings for his ex-wife. No resentment, no longing. Just…nothing. And I believe him. The fact that he put the boundary in place to not work on her place is proof enough that he’s not just a good man, he’s a smart one, and one who doesn’t feel obligated to do things for his ex-wife simply because she asked him to.
