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I watched this sibling tennis match with growing entertainment. Noa, meanwhile, had abandoned the adults and attached herself to my hip.

“Are you Daddy’s special friend yet?” she asked with five-year-old directness. “Because you came to our house at night and Grandma said only special friends visit at night.”

The entire work crew stopped what they were doing. Every single one of them turned to stare. Tyson’s face went from pink to red to possibly purple.

“Noa, baby, that’s not…”

“When?” I interrupted, my own face burning.

“Two nights ago! I saw you through my window. Daddy opened the door and stayed with you for a long time.”

Right. The lock incident. When I’d shown up terrified and shaking because of Garrett’s note. Definitely not a girlfriend visit, but try explaining stalking ex-husbands to a kindergartener.

The crew erupted. Hank actually had to sit down he was laughing so hard. Diego made kissy noises until Tyson threw a piece of demolition at him. Trent looked like Christmas had come early.

“I’m sorry,” Tyson said, mortified. “I’ll talk to her about…”

“It’s fine.” I waved him off, trying to salvage some dignity. “She’s five. Easy mistake.”

“So you’re not his friend?” Noa looked genuinely confused. “Why not? He stares at you a lot.”

“OKAY,” Tyson said loudly, scooping his daughter up and tossing her over his shoulder. “Time to go home. Rose, take her. Please. Before she ruins my life completely and I can never set foot outside my house ever again.”

“But I’m curious!” Noa protested from her upside-down position. “I want to help!”

“You’re helping too much. Go. There are snacks at home. Cookies. Whatever you want.”

Rose took her niece with obvious amusement. “Come on, troublemaker. Let’s leave your dad to die of embarrassment in peace.”

They left, Noa still asking questions about friendly visits. The crew gradually went back to work, though the snickering continued. Tyson stood in my destroyed living room looking like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

“I’m really sorry. She’s been on this kick lately about me ‘having lady friends’. I think it’s the Disney movies. Too many princesses finding princes.”

“It’s fine.” I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Kids say things.”

He wasn’t looking at me, focusing instead on the exposed beams overhead, but his ears were red again. “The crew needs supervision,” he said. “Lots to do. Porch won’t rebuild itself.”

He fled like the room was on fire.

The afternoon passed in a blur of careful not-looking. We developed this weird dance of almost-interactions. He’d need something from inside, I’d happen to be in another room. I’d step out to check progress, he’d suddenly need to be in the crawl space.

It was ridiculous. We were adults. I was going through a divorce. He was my contractor. There were a hundred reasons why noticing his staring or thinking about him was a bad idea.

But when our hands brushed as I passed him a water bottle, when we ended up pressed together in the narrow hallway because Hank needed to carry lumber through, when I caught him watching me with this expression I couldn’t quite read, all those reasons got harder to remember.

“Found something!” Rookie’s voice interrupted another charged moment.

He emerged from inside the wall holding a metal box, rust-covered but intact. The crew gathered around as he pried it open, revealing a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon.

“Love letters,” Diego announced after scanning one. “Hidden in the wall. That’s some romantic shit right there.”

They passed them around, making jokes about secret lovers and hidden passages. Period-typical romance with lots of yearning and prohibition. I took one dated 1980, expecting more of the same.

The handwriting was different.

This will be my last letter. After twenty years, I’m finally leaving him. To whoever finds these, know that I chose the wrong man. I’ve been paying for it ever since. But it’s never too late to choose yourself. It took me two decades to learn that. Don’t make my mistake. Don’t waste your life on someone who makes you small. Leave him, just like I finally did.

I folded the letter carefully and slipped it into my pocket. The crew had moved on, joking about other things they’d found in walls over the years. Nobody noticed my sudden stillness.