His lips part, and he doesn’t seem to know how to respond. Finally, he chokes out, “You joined a support group?”
“I did.” Nerves churn in my stomach, but I need to put my cards on the table because it wouldn’t be fair to keep things to myself when he’s doing so much for me. “It’s been amazing. I still go once a month to help out other women who’ve been through the same thing. Jessica and Paige do too.”
“They miscarried?” he asks. “I didn’t know that.”
“You know who they are?”
He colors. “I looked them up not long after the divorce, when I saw them start appearing on your social media, but I never knew how you met.”
I frown, disconcerted by the fact he’d kept an eye on my social media. “It was the support group. Paige miscarried like me, and Jessica had a stillbirth.” My heart aches for her when I think about it. While a couple of years have passed, I know it’s not often she makes it through a day without feeling the pain.
“That’s hard.”
I nod. I’ve personally railed at the universe on her behalf.
“And therapy?”
“Also amazing.” I pause while I eat, wondering how much to tell him. I was in a dark place when we broke up and it’s largely thanks to my therapist, Dr. Casey, that I’m in a better mental and emotional space now. “I worked through a lot of grief and anger, and learned to accept that it happened and it’s part of what makes me who I am.”
He shifts uncomfortably, and concentrates on cutting his steak. This is a tough topic for him. Partly because of our shared past, and partly because he’s one of those stoic men who keep everything trapped inside and doesn’t believe that talking helps. His attitude exacerbated our problems because he never opened up about what he viewed as taboo topics, and I was too emotionally dependent on him to force the matter when doing so might make him unhappy. These days, I know that challenging conversations are often necessary for healing. I wonder if he’s made the same discovery, or if there are another three years’ worth of repressed feelings simmering under his surface.
He clears his throat. “You’re doing okay now?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I am.” Then, because I’m on a roll, I continue, “Actually, the renovation is part of my therapy too. It’s an outlet for pent-up energy and frustration, and it feels really good to take something damaged and make it better.”
His gaze searches mine. I let him look his fill, and resist the urge to lose myself in eyes as turbulent as an ocean. “That’s great, Ash. Are you…” He hesitates. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be doing renovations when you’re trying to get pregnant?”
A laugh bursts through me, releasing the tension like a valve. Good old Seth. Always trying to take care of me, even when it means protecting me from myself. Shaking my head, I spoon more of the salad into my mouth and keep quiet.
“What?” he demands, his brows furrowing together.
“Nothing.” I swallow and cover my mouth so he can’t see me smile. “Yes, I’ve checked with a doctor and I’m being careful not to overdo anything.”
He doesn’t look appeased.
“It’s fine. Really.”
His lips press into a line, and the glint in his eye is the same one he used to have before he’d put me over his lap and swat my ass. All humor vanishes at the memory, and heat spirals downward. I focus on dinner, hoping my cheeks aren’t as fiery as they feel. Knowing me, they probably are. It’s near impossible to hide a blush with my fair complexion.
“Have you given any more thought to how you’re going to tell your family?” he asks, changing the topic.
I lay my cutlery beside my plate. The nerves churning in my gut have migrated to my throat, and it’s so constricted that I don’t trust myself to swallow properly. “I’m going to set something up with them next weekend. Get them all in the room at one time so I don’t have to say it more than once.”
“Sounds like a solid plan.” He finishes his steak, wipes his mouth on a napkin, and grants me his full attention. “I haven’t seen Liam for ages. How’s he doing?”
Something in my stomach squeezes.Liam. My older brother is the reason Seth and I met. Back before Seth ran his own gym, they trained together, but then Seth became a champion while Liam got married and went back to school to become a physical education teacher. They’d been close friends, but their friendship seemed to end along with my marriage—something I heartily regret.
“He’s all right.” My voice is soft. “He and Marisol have three children now. They had a son not long after we separated, and then another a few months ago. Marisol is run off her feet, and apparently the kids talk back a lot more than Liam would like.”
Seth nods, then says something that catches me by surprise. “He never kicked my ass.”
“Huh?” My brow crinkles. I’m not following this twist in the conversation.
Seth eyes his beer, but doesn’t gulp it down even though it seems he’d like to. “He always said that if I hurt you, he’d kick my ass, but he never did.”
“Oh.” Emergency lights flash in my mind.Unsafe waters, turn back.“I told them I was the one who ended it. I never gave him any reason to blame you.”
He looks at me as though I’m a complex math equation he’s struggling to solve. “But I hurt you.”
