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She sees us standing together behind the fence, somewhat shocked. Michael notices Wyatt and runs up to him, wrapping his arms around his legs. The other children just stare, their parents asking them to come over and have a drink of water while they take a break.
With the ball in her hand, Morgan slowly paces toward us, tilting her head, trying to hold back her smile.
“What are the two of you doing here?” she asks, looking at Wyatt, then to me.
“Hey, buddy.” Wyatt kneels down to Michael’s level. “Do you think you can count the number of lines on the court?”
Michael nods, running to the corner where the lines begin and evenly pacing himself while counting slowly.
Extending his hand, Wyatt hands Morgan an envelope, which he removed from his bag.
“What’s this?” she stares, confused.
“Divorce papers,” he says without hesitating. “You see, Noah and I kinda have an understanding now. I know he’ll take care of you, and I know you’ll still be in Michael’s life.”
Morgan’s eyes refuse to leave the envelope, and slowly as she raises them to meet mine. She faintly whispers, “Michael can still be in my life?”
“He’s a part of you, Morgan, and I want all of you,” I tell her, smiling to ease the burden she’s carrying. It’s finally sunk in. The distance I need to go to show her how much I love her and what she means to me.
“We’ll make it work, Mo. The three of us,” Wyatt reassures her.
“Four,” she corrects him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Four?”
“Please, Wyatt. You can come clean now about Jessica. I mean, gee, talk about a dirty mouth on that one.”
I keep my laughter to myself as Wyatt nods his head, agreeing with a sly smile. “Well, I guess you know, then,” he simply says.
“Timing isn’t exactly her strength. Plus, I should’ve been a private detective with the skills I got,” she jokes, then points her finger at me. “Just a heads up.”
The three of us laugh as Michael finishes counting and returns with his statistics. The kid is impressive. Morgan informs us she’ll finish their practice game as Wyatt and I stand on the side. He explains to me that sports are something Michael finds zero interest in. However, when it comes to watching on television, he’s fascinated with the commentating, especially facts and stats of the game.
When they finish up, Wyatt offers to take Michael home. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he tells us.
Before he leaves, I kneel down to Michael’s level but keep my handshake at bay not to overwhelm him. “Hi Michael, I’m Noah. A friend of Morgan’s.”
He listens, but stares at the sky, then gazes at me for just a split second before fixating on the ball. “Do you play basketball?”
“I do,” I respond eagerly.
“Do you know that Michael Jordan won six NBA championships?”
I smile because I do know that. “Uh-huh, and do you know that he had six thousand, six hundred and seventy-two rebounds?”
Michael continues to stare at the sky as if he’s thinking out loud. “That’s a lot of rebounds.”
Morgan and Wyatt smile back, keeping quiet as they watch Michael. He doesn’t have anything else to say, so Wyatt decides to take him home, saying goodbye to both of us. When they’re out of sight, Morgan’s quick to jump into my arms and hold onto me as if her life depends on it.
“Thank you.”
I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent and moving my head to plant a soft kiss on her neck. I fucking miss her so much. And with her in my arms, I want to be a better man—honest and faithful— and show her each day what she means to me.
“You know you’re kind of stuck with me now?” I chastise.
“You know what?” She grins, her eyes sparkling inside my embrace. “You’re worth all the heartache, Noah. Every single moment of it.”
“I love you,” I blurt out, perturbed by my sudden need to be so forthcoming with my emotions. “I’m not perfect.”
