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“I just needed a second.”

“Well, now you’ve got one.” She shrugged. “He left.”

“He had to go back to work.”

“Honey, I love you.” She paused. “But quit yanking him in and then pushing him away.”

“I’m not trying to do that.”

“You want to be with my son, that’s clear as day,” she said, standing up. “Let him be with you, too, yeah?”

I threw my arm back over my face as she left the room and let the tears slide down the sides of my face. What a godawful day. I hadn’t meant to start a fight with Michael, and now, sitting in the quiet, I was grateful that he’d seen a problem and went out of his way to start fixing it. If I was honest, it was something I’d always loved about him. If he saw that I needed something, he went out of his way to get it without me having to ask. If I was struggling with something, he tried to fix it. He’d always been that way, even when we were kids.

Everything just felt out of control. Once me and Michael had decided to make a go of things, all in, forever, I’d been in a cloud of happiness. Everything had seemed possible. But all too soon, reality seemed to be seeping into our little bubble, and I had no idea how to navigate it. I thought about my day at work and sniffled.

What the fuck was I going to do?

A few hours after I’d left Heather with a hug and a promise to stop being an ass to Michael, Rhett and I were home making dinner when I heard Michael’s Harley in the driveway. I stayed by the counter, mixing up the meatloaf while Rhett ran to the door to the garage and stared at it.

“Careful,” I called out as Michael opened it and Rhett ran toward him.

“Whoa!” Michael said, laughing. “Were you waitin’ on me?”

“Daddy work,” Rhett replied as Michael picked him up.

“Yep. Daddy was at work. I’m home now, though!” His eyes met mine across the room.

“Sorry for my meltdown earlier,” I said quickly. “I was an ass.”

“You were stressed,” Michael countered, coming forward to kiss me. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“What you did was nice—”

“Well,Ithought so,” he joked, setting Rhett on his feet.

“I’m not used to this,” I replied quietly. “I’ve never just left Rhett screaming so someone else could comfort him. I drive myself where I need to go. I take care of my own car.”

“We’re a team, sugar,” Michael reminded me.

“I know, I just—” I shook my head. “It’s too much all at once.”

“I mean… I can be less helpful?”

“I just need to wrap my head around it,” I mumbled, turning back toward the stove.

“Tomorrow will be better,” Michael murmured, wrapping his arm around my waist.

The knot in my stomach that I’d been trying to ignore felt like it multiplied in size at his words. I didn’t even want to think of tomorrow. Imagining going back to work at that cart, facing Charlie after I’d messed up so bad, and potentially breaking something else made me want to cry.

“Daddy play,” Rhett ordered, pulling on Michael’s pant leg. “Me play.”

“Oh, you want to play, huh?” Michael replied, letting go of me so he could scoop up our son. “What do you want to play?”

“Dinner’ll be ready in ten,” I said to their backs as they walked toward the living room.

“Thanks, baby,” Michael said, tickling Rhett as he pretended to throw him on the couch.

We ate dinner as a family and spent a little time outside in the grass and for a while, I could pretend that my anxiety wasn’t through the roof. I laughed and teased and snuggled Rhett, but the whole time there was this thrum of unease just below the surface. The later it got, the closer I was to work the next morning the worse my anxiety became. By the time I’d gotten Rhett to sleep, I was nearly in a panic.

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