“Fuck.” I choke out the word and rush back up the stairs, needing to get away. Only it’s impossible to outrun my thoughts. Thankful the boys are still asleep, I lock myself in the bathroom and crank the shower just in time to cover the sob that leaves my mouth. Angry tears streak down my cheeks and my pulse races, my chest heaving with each breath. I need to get my shit together. The sun is barely streaking the skyline and I’m already falling apart.
I look to the bathroom mirror, catching my reflection. “You will not do this. Not today,” I warn myself. Because as hard as this all is, I refuse to appear weak or broken, even if that’s how I feel. “You’ve fucking got this,” I whisper aloud.
I think back to everyone’s expressions yesterday when I introduced Matthew and Simon.
Of their hurt. The disappointment. Of Chase and how betrayed he appeared. My shoulders fall in defeat. I definitely don’t “got this.” I understood those looks because I felt the exact things the day I discovered my father had another daughter—one he’d kept from me.
I’m no better than my father.
History repeats itself.
Maybe I’m destined for a life alone and towered by secrets.
Stripping down, I step into the hot water and spend the next thirty minutes attempting to scrub away those thoughts and the very real fear that I’ve made an irreversible mistake by coming home—one I can’t take back or move on from, no matter how hard I try.
After my shower and a cup of coffee, I feel halfway human again. Matty wakes up soon after, full of sunshine and unfurled energy. I take him outside to play in the yard, careful to steer him clear of the landscaping crew that’s been called in to prune trees and bushes.
“Park!” He points, running through the lush yard, and looking around confused. “Park! Mama push?”
I giggle at his association. He’s right, this estate resembles the playground not far from our flat. “There’s no swings, Matty. We could dig though. Let’s go find some shovels.”
“Shov-bels.” He nods enthusiastically.
We walk over to the old greenhouse my dad had installed for my mother’s fortieth birthday, and thankfully it’s unlocked. I don’t think anyone’s been in here in quite some time. The potted plants are all dead, the soil dry. It’s a shame really. A waste of a perfectly good space, much like the rest of the estate. Matty follows me around, his eyes wide with wonder, and his steps cautious. I think that’s one of the biggest gifts of being his mother, he forces me to stop and view the world through his eyes—grand and in awe at the simplest of things. It takes some scavenging, but we find two gardening spades along with a wide brimmed hat Matty insists on wearing.
We walk back to the covered patio and I let him go to town in one of the planters near the house. My mother won’t approve. We were never allowed to play in the yard, especially near the house. But I can’t find it in myself to care. Which is growth, because there was a time I would have done almost anything to avoid my mother’s disapproval.
“There you are,” Simon says, stepping out onto the patio. In his hands he holds two mugs. “Coffee?” He holds one of the mugs out, and then takes a seat on the step next to me. “I wasn’t sure how many you’ve had, but then I realized it probably wouldn’t matter.”
“Thank you.” I grin at him from over the mug. Of course, he made it exactly the way I like. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“Psh.” He knocks his shoulder playfully against mine and grins. “You just love me for supplying you with your caffeine fix.”
I take a sip and moan, nodding. “You know it.”
He laughs, nodding to Matty. “He’s making a proper mess.”
I wince. “He’ll probably need a bath. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He waves me off. “Sorry I slept so late. It’s almost time for you to be off, yes?”
I swallow against the rush of nerves as I check my phone. “Yeah, I should go change.” I can’t believe I agreed to this. Spending the entire day with Chase has bad idea written all over it. What the hell was I thinking?
“Nervous?”
“Do I look nervous?”
“Babe.” Simon takes in my face a long moment, then lets loose a chuckle. “You are wound tight.”
“Ugh.” I release a sound of distaste, knowing he’s right. My brows pinch together with my frown. “I don’t know what I expected. But this is all harder than I thought it would be.”
“Oh, babe.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. If you need to talk or cry or whatever, you’re not alone in this. Okay?”
I rest my head against his shoulder, leaning into his strength as I’ve done countless times. “Thank you. I’m good,” I say just above a whisper. Closing my eyes, I take a fortifying breath. For a fleeting moment I imagine the shoulder I’m resting against is more muscular and covered with intricate tattoos. A memory of Chase’s scent—cologne, salty ocean air, and something else uniquely him—squeezes my chest with longing for the past. I wonder if he still smells that way. I’m tempted to find out, and that alone has me pulling away from Simon and pushing to my feet.
“Call or text if you need me.” I step to my son and lift the brim of his hat to place a kiss on his sweaty, full cheeks. He’s already starting to shed
