And unfortunately, I'm starting to have a lot of them.
***
Jillie is asleep again within minutes.
Honestly, it feels unfair.
One strange dream.
Thirty seconds of conversation.
Then she's gone.
Meanwhile, Sadie and I are left sitting on opposite sides of a sleeping seven-year-old pretending we weren't about to completely change the direction of our lives.
The fire crackles softly.
Neither of us moves.
Mostly because moving would require acknowledging things.
And I am not currently interested in acknowledging things.
Especially certain things.
Like how close I came to kissing her.
Or how much I wanted to.
The problem isn't that it almost happened.
The problem is that neither of us looked surprised.
That's the part I can't stop thinking about.
Not shock. Not panic. Not regret.
Recognition.
As if we'd both quietly arrived at the same destination without realizing it.
Across the couch, Sadie's fingers drift absently through Jillie's hair.
A small gesture.
Gentle. Automatic, the kind mothers probably don't even think about.
I watch it anyway.
Because lately I seem incapable of looking away.
Maybe that's what this whole thing comes down to.
Not attraction.
Not chemistry.
Not even the fake relationship.
