“Yeah, she is.” His voice comes out weary, tinged with the crushing reality of this week. “I think she’s more excited to see you than me.”
“We both need some rest. People start arriving early, and it’s already so late.”
James reaches for me, reeling me back into his body, his fingers brushing back my hair, holding me at the base of my neck—unwilling to let me go.
“I promise I’m not running,” I thread my fingers through the scruff of his beard, memorizing the feeling of him. “I’ve thought about us nonstop.”
“I’m still here, Sydney. This—coming here—was the only way I could see you. You didn’t answer any of my texts. I didn’t know what else to do. I know how this looks, especially with... what’s supposed to happen in a few days.” His lips ghost over my neck, only a feather of touch below my ear. “But I don’t feel any different than I did last year. I want to leave here with you. You. Me. Anna. That is the only outcome I want at the end of this week.”
“Not a day’s gone by that I haven’t wished I’d heard you. That I’d listened, on New Year’s.”
James exhales a breath of relief, as though the air has been stuck in his chest for a year. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, processing my confession.
Ishouldfeel guilty.
He’s supposed to marry Ivy in a few days. I’m still married to Mason, even if we haven’t slept together in a year, we’re still married. Pretty sure masturbating in front of another man crosses the vow to befaithful. I’m well beyond that. Infidelity started long ago, even if we’ve never kissed.
But the only thing I feel is contentment. Because he’s here. And I’m finally listening.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” I slip down the hall and fall into my cold bed.
When I drift off, it’s to dreams of green eyes, whispered confessions, and a love as clear and constant as moonlight. I sleep soundly until a sudden weight presses against me. Little hands creep toward my ribs. I wait for her to get close enough and strike. I flip Anna onto the bed and attack her with tickles. She shrieks with laughter, her tiny hands pushing at mine—joy in its purest form.
“Mama! Noooo!” she wails through her giggles.
Mason stands in the doorway, watching, his face carefully blank. He could be observing a piece of art or a basketball game for all I could tell. I don’t know if he wants to join, or if he even knows how. He’s never been able to surrender to these simple joys with Anna. Not the way she needs. Not the way shedeserves.
“Sorry to wake you.” He inclines his head politely and sets their bags down. “But it’s getting late. People will be arriving soon. Have fun at the party?”
“I was up late… cleaning. The party was fine. You know how those things are.”
He nods, but doesn’t comment.
Anna snuggles into me, her soft curls tickling my skin, her pert little nose brushing my cheek. Every part of her wrapped around me, trusting completely.
The weight of the choice settles deep in my body.
Loving James, choosing him, has never been the question. The choice I have to make is letting go of the damage left behind by my parents, who chose their happiness over their child.
Facing my fears of repeating their mistakes.
That’s what I’ve been battling since I saw those positive pregnancy tests.
Because if I leave Mason, I’ll have to share Anna. I won’t get every holiday. I won’t be the one who tucks her in every night or wakes to her sleepy smile every morning. I won’t always be there to kiss scraped knees or chase away bad dreams.
And that thought cuts me clean through.
I know what it means to grow up wondering if you were the reason someone left. And that fear—Anna feeling my loss, associating it with me leaving her father—is the kind of pain I have to be willing to risk. I press my lips to Anna’s curls, hoping her steady breath might hold the answer.
Twenty-Eight
“TheDickensFestivalisthis afternoon. Anyone planning to go?” I ask over a quiet breakfast.
Ivy doesn’t look up, scowling from her corner of the table, her spoon clinking aggressively against her coffee cup. She’s sullen, not the picture of bridal bliss from the day before. Her friends left early for a day of skiing. James sits beside her, but there’s a stiffness in how he leans away.
We have kept a careful distance; the epitome of courteous and friendly. Nothing more than a hello as everyone sat down.
Still, from time to time, when my eyes skirt to that end of the table, I see him staring right back. He watches me as he sips his coffee, finds me when Anna and I laugh. Every time he looks, my stomach reacts, and I squirm at the memory of my fingers in his mouth.
