Page 21 of Hearts on the Line

We both chuckle as she turns off Main Street, weaving through the traffic, away from the center of town.

“So you have a house here?” I ask, ready to change topics.

“I do, somehow. Nico and I have been fixing it up. Renovations are a lot slower now that we have two rugrats running around, but it has a great spot in the back for my studio.”

Only a few minutes later, we pull up into the driveway of the cutest cottage I’ve ever seen. Just like Sarah, it’s bright and sunny. Literally, the house is bright yellow with a purple door. She has a wreath hanging from it, and the flower beds are a riot of color. It looks like a rainbow threw up all over the house, and it brings a smile to my face.

“This is the most you house,” I say, stepping out.

She grins, then bows. “Thank you.”

Inside, the house shows its age. The floors pitch to one side, and it’s small and narrow. There’s artwork hanging up everywhere. Some of Sarah’s paintings, and judging by the blobs of paint and scribbles of crayons on paper, art from Olive and Arlo.

It’s the kind of home I used to dream about when I’d hide in my perfectly clean bedroom, listening to my parents fight. The kind of home I thought I would build with Jason someday. Funny how you can get everything you thought you wanted and still feel empty.

“This is where you can crash tonight.” Sarah gestures to the living room couch. There are blocks and toys scattered everywhere, blankets, a pile of clean diapers and wipes. “I’m sorry it’s messy. I promise we’ll pick it up after their bedtime. You can stay as long as you need to, until the car is fixed.”

She brings me out back to what probably was an outdoor porch but now is full of light, with large windows. There’s an easel in the corner and oil paints scattered about. In true Sarah fashion, there’s also a disco ball. The sun is hitting it just right for a rainbow to cascade over the poster on the wall declaring to “Support Your Local Girl Gang.”

“Wow, this couldn’t be a better studio space.”

“I paint when I can. Not as much as I’d like to, but the kids will get older. For now, we make it work.”

I walk around, peeking at the unfinished pieces stacked here and there. “You’ll get there.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Sloane.” Her voice catches slightly. “I missed having someone who remembers who I was before I became just ‘Mom.’ You know?”

I reach out and squeeze her hand. The funny thing is, watching Sarah scoop up her kids when they burst through the door just a few minutes later, I feel the ghost of who we used to be. Now she’s built a life here, roots so deep I can practically see them growing through the floorboards. And I’m still running.

Before I can say anything, she heads to the kitchen and points to the little banquette. The table is painted in a checkerboard pattern, and the napkin holder is a ceramic chicken that’s lime green with eyebrows drawn in Sharpie.

“Enough about me. What’s going on, Sloane? Tell me you’ve seen them.”

“Seen what?”

“You know about the videos, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

I try to brush it off, but the fact is, I knew leaving the wedding early would have consequences. I just didn’t care. “Don’t want to. I’m fine with ditching social media for the summer.”

“Always causing a scandal.” I know she’s teasing, but I catch the way it’s a little sad too. “I can get you out of here. You don’t have to stay. I’ll take you wherever you need to go, and we can figure out that car later.”

I trace my finger over the chicken and peek back up at her. “I’m good. Really.”

Supper is chaotic. Arlo launches into a rapid-fire stream of knock-knock jokes while Olive laughs beside him from her high chair. At one point, I end up with a pea shoved up my nose. Once I manage to fish it out with a pair of tweezers, I laugh it off, help Sarah clean up, and Nico takes the kids up for a bath.

As bedtime stretches on and the kids resist sleep, I can’t help but feel like I’m in everyone’s way.

“I had a great time at dinner, Sarah. Thanks for having me.”

“You’re not staying?” she says, after rushing back downstairs. Olive is fussy, and Arlo won’t stop escaping. Then he tore the baby monitor off the wall in protest.

“It sounds like maybe I should head back.”

“To Ethan’s?”

“We were friends first. It’ll be okay for a few weeks. We’ll make it work.” I give her a big hug. “I won’t leave without seeing you again, I promise.”