Hudson’s hand wraps around one cup of coffee as Micah leans in for a kiss. I bend down to scratch Delilah behind herears just the way she likes it, and she steals a kiss of her own, catching the corner of my mouth in the process.
“Careful, Dee. She’s married, and I don’t think he likes to share.” Micah takes a seat between Hudson’s legs on the steps of the Gazebo. “Howisyour husband anyway?”
“The hot cowboy who makes amazing sourdough?” Hudson asks.
Micah nods.
I’ve been bringing leftover sourdough to the office to share with my staff, and Micah sometimes takes the leftovers home with him at the end of the day.
I sit opposite them with my back against the railing. “Still hot, still a cowboy.”
Micah’s lips tip into a half smile. “Still completely obsessed with you.”
I bring the coffee cup to my mouth and blow on the hot liquid, but I don’t bother denying the accusation. “I think I’m moving in with him.”
Hudson’s arms wrap around Micah’s shoulders, and my heart melts a little. They’re so perfect for each other, like two halves of a whole. Micah is tall and handsome in a Clark Kent wearing glasses kind of way, but softer. A perfect contrast to Hudson, who’s a few inches shorter, with blonde hair like a 90s heartthrob, and he has the muscles of a man who enjoys manual labor.
Micah’s brow creases. “What do you mean youthinkyou’re moving in with him?”
“He asked, but I haven’t given him my answer.”
Delilah lies beside me with her head on my thigh, nudging my free hand.
I smile and scratch beneath her chin. “Needy little thing.”
“Why are you hesitating?” Micah asks. “You’re practically living together anyway. That man’s been by your side ever since you ended up in the hospital.”
“Before that, actually.”
Micah points one finger at me, still clutching his coffee cup. “Exactly. Want me to help you put up the for sale sign?”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
Hudson snorts. “We only dated for a month before Micah started sleeping over, and he never left. It’s been eight years.” He tilts forward to press a kiss against Micah’s forehead. “Not that I’m complaining. Best eight years of my life.”
Micah closes his eyes and leans into his embrace.
I toy with the wedding band encircling my ring finger.
I’ve always wanted what they have—someone to come home to at the end of a long day, the easy affection, the way they just… fit. No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, Tyler and I never had that. I always felt like an afterthought, a postscript on some half-written love letter.
As if sensing my distress, Micah reaches across the gazebo and squeezes my hand. “Griffin is not Tyler.”
It’s possible that being jilted affected me more than I wanted to admit. I took that heartbreak and shoved it down deep, and that’s where it festered.
On the off chance that this thing between Griffin and me could be exactly what I’m looking for, I think I owe it to myself to try. He’s never given me cause to doubt his intentions, but I’ve let my misgivings get in the way.
Now I’m searching for red flags where there are none and waiting for the day Griffin decides he made a mistake. But Micah’s right. Griffin isn’t Tyler, and I can’t keep using the past and my pregnancy as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length when all I want to do is lean in.
Maybe it’s time to lean in.
After the coffee date, I climb into Griffin’s big black truck and absently set my leftover coffee in the console, only to somehow miss the cup holder completely. It topples into the passenger seat and pools in the center of the leather upholstery. Luckily, it was almost empty, so the mess is minimal. I rifle through the center console, but I don’t find what I need.
I open the glove box next. Instead of the stack of fast-food napkins I expect to find there, something shiny catches my attention. My hand trembles as I reach for the white gold engagement ring with the solitaire diamond Tyler slid onto my finger almost two years ago. I hold it up to the light, expecting to feel something, but there isn’t so much as a pang of sadness as I stare at it. Whatever affection I once held for the man who gave me this ring has faded, leaving behind nothing but a series of bad memories. I take solace in knowing my heart has moved on, even if some of the damage still lingers.
I find a travel pack of wet wipes in my purse and quickly clean up the mess, then drive down to the cliff and park near the ledge. It’s probably a hot spot for make-out sessions when the sun sets.
Ring in hand, I climb onto the tailgate and stare up at the clouds. “Hey Jess.”
