Page 88 of Promise

The garage became a zone we wanted to visit.

“I call Dart,” Clint announces, pointing his fork with his final bite of waffles at my husband.

My husband.

I might need to get used to saying that again.

“I call Cort,” I shout, raising my hand like a kid in a classroom, excited to have a little distraction and fun with my other brothers.

And that’s how the four of us end up playing ping-pong, while Vale held Mirabelle and played commentator.

The weekend ended up being kind of perfect. After spending most of the day with my family, Dart and I spent the rest of the evening with Mirabelle. The three of us together.

After I gave Mirabelle a bottle near ten at night, prompting her back to sleep, I stealthily sneak out into the hallway outside my room, hoping not to wake her.

Dart stands in the hallway as well.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” I lean against the wall.

“Just wanted to say good night.” We finally finished watching Bridgerton, then Mirabelle woke up for this feeding.

“Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t move. Neither does Dart.

“I’ll just . . .” He points down the hallway to the guest room.

“Oh. Okay.” My chest aches. I don’t know what I thought would happen tonight. We spent last night in bed together, but is it safe to do it again? Is it smart? Emotionally, I am still all over the place, so I don’t want to confuse the issue any more than it already is for either of us.

“Unless you want . . . ” He nods toward the bedroom door at my side.

“No, that’s okay. You should probably go back to your room.” Stating that the guest room was his room feels sour on my tongue. Disappointment settles in my chest.

He slips his hand against my cheek. “Why do I feel like I need to give you a good night kiss?”

“Why do I feel like I want you to?”

He smiles slowly, leaning forward. He runs his nose along mine before settling on my lips. Soft. Sweet. Tender.

He pulls away first, but I grab his shirt and pull him back to me. And he kisses me like a front-porch kiss. One that presses me against the wall and leaves me wanting more when we break apart.

“Good night, then,” he says breathlessly.

“Good night,” I whisper, just as swept away by him. Then I watch him saunter down the hall, glancing back at me with a satisfied smile before closing the door.

And I take comfort in his presence down the hall.

For a few minutes, it feels like all is right with the world.

In the quiet of the next early morning, I breathe in Mirabelle’s lavender baby wash as she lies in the bassinet at the foot of my bed. To my surprise, she’s still sleeping, and I take an extra minute to enjoy the silence before another day begins.

When I head to the kitchen, I notice Dart’s truck is missing from the driveway. Surprisingly, I don’t feel the panic I’d expect to feel. I feel lighter. Calmer. As if we’ve turned a bend in the road. It isn’t always going to be perfect moving forward, but as long as we’re together, we can handle the speed bumps and potholes.

Reaching the kitchen, I fall into the routine of no routine. This time won’t last much longer. I have just over a week before I return to work, which means I need to go about the business of finding childcare. My six-week leave went so fast.

I still have a few months before the adoption will be final, and the one thing I am apprehensive about is leaving Mirabelle in day care or with a nanny. I’m not ready to leave her period, but I need to return to work.

The swirl of the front lock, followed by the quiet click of the front door opening, alerts me to Dart’s return. I smile before taking a sip of my coffee to cover the grin.