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“Mommy!” I hear Hunter call from his room.
“I have to run. I’d say I’ll try you later, but you need to sleep. Call me tomorrow when you’re on your way to work?”
“Will do, beautiful. Good night.”
“Dream of me. Sexy dreams only. Make sure I’m looking extra amazing.”
“As always.”
I listen to his laugh as we say our good-byes and hang up. I’d sit and sigh for a little, but Hunter calls again, and I’m up and in his bedroom just in time to watch him throw up into an old sand pail.
Motherhood is awesome.
Hunter is feeling better by the time Tyler and Izzy come home. He doesn’t want to eat, but we ask him to have some broth just to get something in his stomach. Izzy is rambling on about a project she is working on for her science class, and Tyler’s giving her pointers on how she could make it better. It’s odd, having Tyler here. Last time, it was for twenty minutes. Dad was here too. I was so focused on his disdain that Tyler’s presence went by the wayside.
Tonight though is different.
Just the four of us breaking egg rolls and reading fortune cookies, talking about our day, is … weird. We did this many times at the old house. Even during the two years of Tyler and I quasi-cohabitating while we tried to figure out what our future as a divorced couple would look like, everything felt strained with a smile. We pretended for the kids, yet it was still the home we shared. Having him in my parents’ house feels natural and forced at the same time.
My phone buzzes with a text.
You have five minutes?
Yes. You want me to call?
Walk outside.
“Excuse me a minute.”
No one seems to care that I’m stepping away from the table. I head toward the front door and look out the side window. I don’t see anyone outside. There are lights on the street, seemingly from a car at the neighbor’s.
I grab my coat and walk outside and head down the stairs. As I get to the bottom of the steps, I see Will’s truck parked along the curb. He’s exiting the driver’s side as I walk around. He’s wearing sweats and a Valor County sweatshirt. The door is still open as he stands on the driver’s side and pulls me close. His hands grip my face, his fingers roaming over the skin of my cheek, pulling me in for a sensual, desperate kiss.
I fall into his embrace, our lips dancing and moving along with one another. A deep, guttural sound escapes his lips, and I moan, realizing just how much I missed being held by this man.
His hands are still on my face as they weave into my hair. His forehead rests against mine, and our smiles touch.
“I told you I needed to see my girl before I went to bed,” he breathes.
A jolt runs up my body and lands on my heart. “Bronson, you are a bona fide romantic. As Shakespearean as your name.”
“Doesn’t everyone die in those plays?”
“Yea. Bad analogy. Still, I love romantic Will.”
His chest rises with a quick exhale. I lean over and kiss him again, making out with him in the street like a teenager who has to park a few houses down from her parents’ house. The sense of déjà vu is frightening. There’s even classic rock playing on Will’s radio.
“The neighbor’s house?” I ask between kisses.
He lays his lips on the skin of my neck. A chill travels down my spine.
“I know you’re not ready for the kids to know you’re dating a younger man. It is quite scandalous. I didn’t want them to see me.”
“How thoughtful of you.” I grab his ass and give it a squeeze.
“God, I love when you objectify me. When will I see you again?”
“I’m booked Friday and Saturday with weddings, but I’m free Sunday. You want to come over? This way, I can sleep in, and we won’t lose any time while I drive back and forth to Castleton. I can objectify you in many ways before Tyler brings the kids back.”
