By the time I finish with the dishes, they’ve made their way outside. Drying my hands and checking on the food, I stroll outside and sit on the steps, watching the two of them play until dinner is ready. They’re both so enthralled in the game they’re playing that neither of them notices me. It’s not long before thetimer goes off and we all head inside. We eat around the table, and it’s nice… really nice.
I could get used to this.
That thought, and the truth in it, has my throat tightening.
It’sa little after nine as I’m walking down the hall toward the kitchen. I put Ellie Mae to bed about an hour ago, and I was about to follow suit before deciding I needed something sweet. Rounding the corner, I chuckle when I realize I’m not the only one with that thought.
“Got a sweet tooth?” I ask, reaching into the cupboard for a bowl.
Breathing out a laugh, Charley says, “Guilty. A sundae sounded so good. Want one?”
“Please.” Setting the bowl down next to hers, I round the counter and sit on one of the bar stools. “Thank you,” I say as she slides mine over to me. It’s a standard sundae, with vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, peanuts, and whipped cream, and is honestly way better than anything I would’ve grabbed for myself.
Charley slides onto the stool next to me, and I can’t help but inhale a little deeper as her sweet, fresh scent fills the air. She must’ve just gotten out of the shower since her hair is wet, and she’s wearing pajamas that make it hard not to stare. Between the short shorts, the cropped tank top that sits just above her navel, and what I swear is the start of a very tiny baby bump that’s really doing it for me, heat floods my veins, but I somehow manage not to get caught.
“Thanks for inviting me to your appointment,” I say after we’ve taken a few bites.
“Of course. It’s your baby too.” Looking over at me, she smiles softly, and my heart skips a beat. Charley is stunning, especially right now, dressed in comfy clothes, with no makeup on. She always looks good, and she always has, but something about seeing her likethisfeels like a privilege.
“Well, I didn’t go to many of Ellie Mae’s prenatal appointments, so just… Thank you. It means a lot.”
“Why not?” She puts the spoon in her mouth upside down to lick off all the hot fudge, and it takes an active effort to not groan at the sight. My body heats as my dick twitches, and she’s completely unaware of what that simple, innocent action does to me.
Clearing my throat, I shift my attention to the bowl in front of me so she doesn’t see me drooling over her like a pervert. “Megan just preferred to go to the appointments by herself, and I wanted to respect that.” Charley’s brow furrows, but she stays quiet. “I did go to some, though. Like the one where we found out the sex.”
Her eyes flicker from the bowl to me before she says, “You’re a really good man, Graham.”
I huff out a small chuckle, taken aback. “Thank you, but where’d that come from?”
“It’s the truth,” she murmurs. “You deserve to hear that and believe it, and I just… I don’t know, I think maybe sometimes people have taken advantage of, or not appreciated, what a good man you are, and I hate that for you. That’s all.” Then she shrugs like it’s nothing and gets back to her sundae.
It’s not hard to deduce that thepeopleshe’s referring to is Megan. It’s the same opinion my family had about her too, and even though I know they’re right, I can’t help the odd, uncomfortable need to defend her. I don’t know if it’s because we were married for so long that it’s just a habit, or if it’s becauseshe’s my daughter’s mother, but it frustrates me every damn time.
“I’m sorry…” Charley says, cutting through my thoughts, “if I crossed a line.”
Shaking my head, I force a smile. “You didn’t. Promise.” Part of me feels like I should try to open up to her, given what we’re about to embark on together, but then the other part of me thinks it’s inappropriate. So, instead I say, “I know you’re right, and it’s nothing I haven’t already heard. It just feels like a personal jab sometimes, even though I know it’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t have to talk about this,” I offer. “I’m sure it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” she says softly. “It’s good to talk about it, and I feel like, sometimes, saying things out loud can help more than thinking about them, you know? Besides, I wanna know.” She chuckles, the sound breathy, and it’s somehow the thing that has me wanting to do it.
“I guess what I mean is, like, maybe if I had done somethingmore, or been a better husband, she might have been nicer, and she might not have lied and felt the need to look outside our marriage for something to fill whatever void she was missing.”
Charley pauses for a moment. “Do you think you were a bad husband?”
“I was unhappy, just like Megan was. If I’m being honest with myself, I fell out of love with her long before our marriage fell apart. We should’ve ended it years ago, but I didn’t want to feel like I failed. Like I could’ve and should’ve done a better job. But then again, if we had gotten a divorce back then, I wouldn’t have Ellie Mae, and I can’t imagine my life without her. I’ve struggled with the guilt a lot. It’s actually one of the main things I talked about in therapy. Like there’s some small part of me that thinks by saying I regret marrying Megan, I’m also saying I regrethaving Ellie Mae.” I swallow against the lump in my throat before I add, “And that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Of course it’s not true, Graham. Nobody thinks that.” Sliding off the bar stool, she brings her bowl to the sink, but before rinsing it, she lifts her gaze to mine. “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I say, doing the same. “Like you said, it’s good to talk about it.” I set my bowl in the sink beside hers, our bodies facing each other as the air thickens. Neither of us says anything for a moment. I want to thank her for being here, for listening, for what she said, but the words never come. None of it feels like enough.
Charley presses her full pink lips together and swallows harshly. “I know things are kind of confusing between us lately,” she says, voice rough. “And I know we aren’t as close as we used to be back in high school, but you can talk to me about anything. I don’t want you feeling like you have to walk on eggshells with me living here, or like you have to bottle up your emotions. There’s no reason why this needs to be weird between us. We’ve been in each other’s lives long enough, and we’re going to see a whole lot more of each other now, with the baby. There’s no reason we can’t be…friends.”
Friends.Right.
Refusing to allow myself to obsess over what that pause in her sentence could’ve meant, I smile and say, “Thank you. And the same goes for you, I hope you know.”
