When she directs her attention to Jovi, I stumble over my words for the first time since our messy reunion.
"You're a good husband," she says, patting the top of his hand and offering him a timid smile. "I know I've probably given the impression I've been ignoring you, but I've been watching. I've seen how you care for her. The quiet ways you've been present for her throughout this visit. You must love her a whole lot."
"He's not," I stammer, "we're not."
"Yes, ma'am," he speaks over me. "I do."
I can feel the heat rush to my face. Mouth opening to explain that he's been stuck with me forever. That he has no choice but to love me, like any other annoying family member you can't ever truly cut out of your heart. Then his hand moves over my thigh. Large, claiming, confident. And I forget what I was going to say.
Time moves too fast, and I still have a million things I want to say to her, to ask, to share, when the buzzer rings announcing the end of visiting hours. "We'll be back," I promise. And it's only when we're in the truck, halfway home, that I replay the words and realize what I said.
We'll be back.
Me and Jovi.
"You told her you were my husband," I remember suddenly. "Why did you lie to her?"
"I didn't tell her that," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. "I told her I loved you."
"That's just another lie."
"I can assure you, it's not."
"Fine," I concede. "You love me. Like you love Kimber. And Cas. And rodeo nights. But that's not what she was implying."
He lets out a laugh. "I promise you, I do not love you like I love Cas. Or Kimber. Or goddamn rodeo nights."
"Are you serious right now?"
Finally, he turns toward me, soft, teasing smile on his lips. "What did I tell you about that?"
I don't answer. Instead, I decide now is a good time for me to face forward. And I stay that way the entire drive home.
I'm greeted by two of the most amazing sights when I walk through my front door. The first is Remmi and Gavin, dressed in full-on pirate costumes along with Wyatt, and giggling delightedly asthey pretend to capture me to smother me in hugs and kisses. The second is an envelope Ryan dropped off. Inside is a single Post-it note with one handwritten sentence written on it.
Tammy dropped the custody case.
I turn toward Jovi, who's lingering in the doorway, and it hits me that he's still waiting.
Not just for me to invite him into the house. But for me.
Tears well in my eyes. When he spots them and instant concern shadows his own, I show him what Ryan wrote.
I let him think the tears are a sign of relief. And I am relieved. But the tears are more. And I'm going to sort them out for myself.
This one thing, I'm going to have to do without him.
But for now, I let him whirl me into a hug. Let him lift me up and swing me around, whooping with joy until the kids come in, wondering what all the noise is about. When neither of us can come up with a suitable explanation, Cas fills them in for us. By announcing that we're all going into town to the Cookie Shop to build our own cookie sandwiches. And that does indeed draw the same level of celebration from all three kids.
It's late by the time Remmi and Gavin are crashed out in their beds, excitement and sugar highs finally wearing out.
Jovi and Cas never came back into the house after cookies, Cas insisting he needed to get Wyatt home, and Jovi heading down to the barn to tend to the horses who likely weren't thrilled about the late dinner.
Alone and feeling wrung out and raw after the day's emotional roller coaster, I rally for one last task.
It takes several minutes of staring at my dresser, but eventually I manage to pull open the top drawer, reach inside and retrieve the letter I buried in the back under all my winter socks.
The lavender envelope is worn thin from the many times I've sat handling it, trying to work up the courage to read the words Lena wrote for me in case she died.
