It’s not a yes, but it’s not an immediate no either. Another small step toward reclaiming pieces of herself that Evan tried to diminish.
The party continues around us, but there’s a shift in how the team interacts with Golda now. Before, she was ‘Dex’s hockey mom crush’—now she’s someone with her own remarkable talent, someone they’re genuinely interested in knowing beyond her connection to me.
As the afternoon stretches into evening, a natural rhythm emerges. Kids start to fade and the energy transitions from boisterous to comfortable. I find myself in the kitchen, helping Elliot with a coffee service that’s more elaborate than anything I’d attempt at home.
“Need a hand?” Golda’s voice makes me turn. She’s standing in the doorway, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen her all day.
“Always,” Elliot says. “Dex is useless with appliances. Says they have too many buttons.”
“They do have too many buttons,” I argue. “Coffee should not require programming skills.”
“Such a luddite,” Elliot teases. “I’m going to check on Brody—he was threatening to demonstrate proper s’more technique, which historically ends with someone getting burned.” She slips out, leaving us alone in the kitchen.
“Having fun?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“More than I expected,” Golda admits. “Your team is...”
“Ridiculous? Overgrown children? Borderline feral?”
“I was going to say ‘welcoming,’” Her smile softens her words. “Especially after the singing. I didn’t mean to become the entertainment.”
“You impressed them,” I tell her. “Which isn’t easy. These guys have seen pretty much everything.”
“Except decent karaoke, apparently.” Her eyes dance with humor. “Roman’s rendition of death metal was?—”
“A crime against humanity?”
“Yeah, basically.”
We laugh together, and there’s something comfortable about it. Easy. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of weeks.
“I should probably start thinking about getting the kids home soon,” she says, but makes no move toward the door.
“Probably,” I agree, moving a step closer to her.
The kitchen island stands between us, but somehow it feels like there’s no distance at all. The afternoon light is fading, casting everything in golden tones that make her hair look like burnished copper.
“Golda,” I begin, not entirely sure what I’m going to say but needing to say something.
“Yes?” Her voice is soft, expectant.
“About last week. The dinner, and after...” I run a hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Not then. It was too much, too fast.”
“Dex—”
“I know you have good reasons to be careful. With Evan, with the custody situation, with everything.” I move around the island, eliminating the barrier between us. “I don’t want to be another complication in your life.”
She studies my face, something vulnerable in her expression. “What if I want some complications? The good kind.”
“Are there good kinds?”
“The kind where someone makes you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how. The kind where your kids light up because someone actually pays attention to them.” She pauses. “The kind where you remember you’re more than just a function.”
“You’re so much more than a function,” I tell her, stepping closer. “You’re...”
“What?” she asks softly.
“Amazing. Brave. Talented. Beautiful.” I reach up to cup her face gently. “And I’d really like to try that kiss again. If you want to.”
