Kim lets out a groan that is a close approximation of Ivy’s and slides down in her chair. “That went well. Are you regretting this yet?”
After all these years of missing her, I could never. “No. You?”
She shakes her head.
I only hope that we can get everything under control before she realizes that this is all my fault and decides I’m the one who’s not worth fighting for, after all.
Twelve
Kim
Waking up next to Blake is surreal; there’s this moment where I feel like I’ve been pulled back in time. I expect to be in our old bed in our old house and to roll over and check the baby monitor to see if Luke is rustling around in his crib.
My brain catches up soon enough, and I just lie there in the dark. We’re still in the pre-dawn hours, my alarm minutes away from chiming. I breathe in the scent of Blake right up next to me, enjoying the warm weight of his arm draped over my waist. Both of these help with the fears gnawing at the edges of my thoughts, trying to fight their way into the bliss of being back together.
Telling the kids about us was a disaster that I probably should have anticipated. Lukas is an easy-going kid, but Ivy has always been resistant to change. And having her parents back together will be a big change in her life. But I know that’s not the whole problem. She’s scared, which I understand—I am, too.
After that, we called our publicists and agents, who told us that yes, the news of our grope-fest had indeed spread far and wide. Everyone seemed supportive of our plan to just announce that we’re getting back together, via both Blake’sTwitter idea and press releases our publicists drafted on the spot. I appreciated the support—not that I wouldn’t have told either Josh or my publicist,Tara, to do it anyway if they disapproved, but it made me feel like maybe Blake and I really aren’t making some huge crazy mistake.
We’re not making a mistake, I tell myself.The mistake was getting divorced.The mistake was letting things get so bad.
I let out a slow breath, thinking about the dinner Blake and I had in this very room, just the two of us. Our phones put on sleep mode so no one could disturb us, the reactions of the rest of the world—and even our kids—pushed aside for the night so we could eat and talk and laugh and cry (that last bit only me, because, well, I’m Kim.) So we could just be us.
In part, it was like getting to know each other all over again, learning some of the ways in which the last six years have changed us. But mostly it was just confirming that the man I’ve loved for so long is, in everything that truly matters, still the same Blake—my best friend and the love of my life.
I only hope he feels the same about me. Based on the glorious, desperate way the night ended, I’m pretty sure he does. I smile with the giddy thrill of it all.
I shift so I can cuddle closer, and my alarm starts braying.
Blake makes a sleepy sound partway between a groan and a laugh. “Oh my god. Is there a donkey in our bedroom?”
I hit the button to shut off the alarm and stretch out against him. “That’s a recording of Kramer the burro. I got him a few months ago. He’s pretty chatty.”
“Right, Kramer. Missing a leg and partially deaf?”
“Yeah,” I say, impressed he knows this.
“The kids always fill me in on the latest animals at the ranch,” he says, his lips tugging up on one side. “And I may have a really good memory for anything that felt like a connection to you and your life.”
I can hear the unspoken words—that the ranch was part of the life that was supposed to beours. Something I always felt, too.The thought that now it can be makes me so incredibly happy.
“Well, that good memory will come in handy, because you have lots of animals to meet, with lots of conditions to remember. Costanza alone—”
Costanza.
I gasp, sitting up so quickly I get a head rush.
“What’s wrong?” Blake asks, but I’m already scrambling for my phone.
“Oh my god, I totally forgot about Costanza!” I frantically enter the password and see dozens of texts, which I expected after last night’s major bomb-dropping on the press andTwitterverse. I scroll through, looking for Aaron’s name. “How could I do that? How could I totally forget mydog?”
“Hey, he’s going to be fine,” Blake says, sitting up and stroking my back, which has gone all kinds of tense. “Your assistant had him, right? We’ll make sure he gets compensated for the extra hours and—”
“It’s not just that. Costanza has really bad separation anxiety, and he needs meds for his vertigo, and I can’t believe I completely forgot about him.”
Sure enough, there are a few texts from Aaron.Hi Ms. Watterson, I heard you weren’t planning on coming back to set today. Do you want me to bring Costanza to your hotel?
Hi again. Just checking in on whether you want me to bring Costanza to you.
