Page 81 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“I’m too attached, too intertwined—in your life,” she sobs, “in Wren’s.”

“Of course you’re intertwined! You’ve been twisted up in my godforsaken soul since the first time I touched you, sweetheart,” I shout, and Wren starts to cry.

“Don’t call me that,” Kendra whispers.

“No. You don’t get to take that away from me again,” I snarl at her and stomp out of the room.

I need to feed Wren and get her down for a nap. But if Kendra thinks that I am just going to let her walk away, implode our whole life, what we are building because she is the one that is afraid this time—well she’s gonna have one hell of a fight on her hands.

63

Kendra

Ihear Eli’s angry footfalls go down the steps, and it takes everything in me not to collapse onto the bed and shatter into a billion pieces.

Out. I need to get out of this house. Away from him. Because I love him so fucking much, and I can’t give him what he wants.

At least we won’t have to deal with the guardian BS with our own kids.

Our own kids.

His words echo in my mind and torpedo my heart. Meaning kids we make together. An idyllic future that Eli has apparently been thinking about, or thought of in that hospital room with lots of time to mull it over at least. He talked about children that we create together so easily, casually. A beautiful blend of our DNA that I can’t give to him. A dream that I nearly had but slipped through this world before I even had the chance to wrap my head around it.

I feel like I’m going to be sick. Nausea twists my stomach as I quickly gather all my bathroom items and do my best to keep my lunch from coming back up. Tears never stop the constant river they carve into my makeup, and I avoid the mirror above the sink.

Out. I need to get out. I slip on my favorite pink Converse, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket, purse, and my phone. I try to tiptoe my way down the steps. Hopefully Eli will be so busy with Wren’s nap time that I can make my escape and not have to deal with this, with him, for—a while.

I make it halfway across my driveway.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Eli comes up behind me and takes the heavy basket from my grip.

“Home.” I stubbornly put a hand on my hip, regretting not grabbing a jacket as the cold wind whips around me.

“I was supposed to show you the house, all the work, with Easton,” he points out just as stubbornly.

“Well I want to go there now, so I appreciate all the work you did to help me get back to where I belong.” I cross my arms.

He growls at me, actually freaking growls. And I hate that it’s so hot, hate that it makes certain parts of my body throb.

“You know exactly where you belong, sweetheart.” Eli levels me with a challenging stare.

I turn away from him and grab my key from my purse that I’d slung over my shoulder, marching to my back door with purpose.

This was it.

“You can just set the basket there and go back to Wren.” I nod at the ground next to the back steps, trying to act unaffected.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters. “I’m not leaving, Kendra! We’re going to do this together. Just like I promised. Wren is napping, locked in the house, safe. I have her baby monitor.” He holds up the white monitor showing me a flickering image of her crib, and Wren peacefully asleep inside of it.

“Suit yourself, Hulk. ” My response is my classic, sassy mask, but my insides feel hollow.

Pushing the door open, I step into . . . my dream kitchen.

Soft-blue beadboard surrounds the bottom half of the walls that gift me the nostalgia of the original kitchen color that I loved and an extra coziness. Wallpaper fills the upper half that is, well, me. Vibrant clementines of various sizes are splashed across the space and look hand-painted in watercolors. They are colorful, sweet, feminine, vintage, and happy. The orange, green, grey, and neutral tones of the paper complement the blue paint perfectly.

The wood cabinets match the antique eat-in table and bench that Easton saved and pushed back into the more open space that was once the formal dining room. Now I have more storage and a massive island with the four original high-backed stools I spent so much time on; they’re now refinished with cushioned, comfortable, new faux leather for additional seating when I have company. The appliances are new as well and not going to start smoking anytime soon. We picked a simple white granite with a subtle marbling that would match the kitchen design now and anything in the future should I choose to make a change . . . But seeing this, feeling it, I want to live like this forever. It’s cottagecore-aesthetic perfection.

“Say something.” Eli makes me jump, since I forgot that he was here. “Shit, are you okay?”