I kept telling myself not to spiral. Except spiraling was second nature by now.
“Mommy, do they have jellyfish at the aquarium?” Zeke asked, bouncing onto the couch while I wrangled the twins into matching outfits. His eyes were bright with excitement.
“Yep,” I said, tugging Chloe’s shirt over her head. “Big glowing ones.”
“And sharks?” he pressed, eyes wide.
“Uh-huh. Sharks too.”
“And sea turtles!” he added proudly, like he already had the tour guide script memorized.
I smiled at him, but inside my stomach twisted tighter. He was already excited. Already expecting something magical.Which meant if things went wrong, if Hunter didn’t stay, he’d be the one asking me why.
And I didn’t have another explanation left in me.
The twins toddled over with their toys, clutching the fox and bunny in sticky fists. They squealed “fishy!” in chorus, like they somehow knew what the day had in store. I kissed their curls, breathing them in, letting their joy soften the edge of my nerves.
I wasn’t sure how this day would go. I wasn’t sure if I was making the right choice by letting him in this far.
Hunter:Don’t worry about driving.
I’ll pick you and the kids up.
I stared at the words, pulse thudding in my ears.
He wanted to pick us up. To see it all up close. The whole picture. Three car seats crammed in the back. A diaper bag stuffed with snacks and wipes. The double stroller that always seemed bulkier than it needed to be.
The circus. My circus.
Panic twisted in my stomach, leading to another line of doubts.
Me:Are you sure? We can meet you
there. A trip out requires a lot.
Hunter:I know. And I want to.
Car seats, snack bags, the whole
shebang. I’m good, Camille.
I bit my lip, fighting the sting in my eyes.
Because part of me still wanted to push him away, because it would hurt less if he bailed now than if he bailed later. While another part kept growing every time he showed up, steady and unshaken, wanted to believe him.
I tucked my phone into my pocket, exhaled, and whispered to myself:Okay. Let him show you he means it.
Zeke ran up, tugging at my sleeve, curls bouncing. “Can we go yet?”
“Not yet, baby,” I said softly, glancing toward the window. My heart pounded, equal parts dread and butterflies.
By the time I wrangled shoes onto all three kids, packed the diaper bag with bottles, snacks, wipes, and emergency snacks (because there’s always an emergency), I was already sweating. The stroller leaned against the wall, daring me to figure out how to get it down the steps with two toddlers on my hip.
That’s when I heard the low rumble of a truck engine outside.
I peeked through the curtain and froze.
When he parked at the curb, the engine cut off with a growl, and the silence left behind seemed louder than before.
