TEN
Rip
She didn’t see the beads of sweat running down my back.
Or hear the panic in my head when I saw her slowly roll up to the house in my car as if she were casing the joint.
I’d had to ask a five-year-old how to download a food delivery app—and I’d had to leave the grocery store twice so I could go to the van and grab Bugsy and a forgotten shoe that Viera had somehow thrown off during our drive.
I also had to scream, “No, birds, no,” so Viera would feel better when we walked back outside to load up the van, meaning I got so distracted I still don’t know how the eggs didn’t make it home. I blame the birds.
I was humbled—to say the least.
And I would rather die than admit that to Colby, but something had shifted today. It felt like we’d called a truce, which was unexpected and felt… right while at the same time feeling wrong because this wasn’t the life we were supposed to have. The kids were supposed to have the best life. The perfect life. Two parents who loved each other.
Not us.
Never us.
It was like Colby and I had found solidarity through the chaos. We were a team. Connected by love for these kids and panic over our inadequacies and… something else that I really didn’t want to think about.
After helping Viera get what seemed like two tubes of red lipstick off her still-stained-red face, Colby and I continued to divide and conquer.
By the time the kids were in bed—earlier than we’d ever been able to get them down before—I was ready for a bottle of whisky and a two-day nap.
Instead I poured both myself and Colby a glass of wine and went into the living room.
She appeared fifteen minutes later wearing a short black cocktail dress that hugged her every curve. Wait. What?
Was she dressed up for me?
“I have a date,” she announced.
I choked on my next sip of wine. “What?”
“A date.” She beamed. “You know, where someone buys you dinner or drinks or even just coffee. You share riveting conversation and, if things go well, a kiss…”
My stomach sank. “How did you even have time to find a date?”
“Oh.” Her smile was utter perfection, like sunshine and warmth and everything I’d been missing since my sister’s death. “He found me.”
The hell?
I took another slow, tentative sip of wine and narrowed my eyes. “Didn’t you go to the office today?”
“Yeah.” She grabbed a small silver clutch and dropped her cell phone into it. “I figured that it would be OK since it was after bedtime.”
I was still gaping when the doorbell rang.
My brain told me to yank open the door, tell the bastard to leave, then camp out in the front yard with a six-pack of beer and a lawn chair just in case he got any ideas about coming back.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Slowly I walked over to the door and opened it wide. “You.”
“Me.” Banks smiled. “Can I come in?” He didn’t let me answer as he moved past me and toward Colby. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and the fucker lingered.
What the hell?