Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Because sometimes,” I say quietly, “people get sick on the inside, too. Not the sick a doctor can fix, and it makes everything feel hard. But we’re gonna be okay. I promise. And one day, I hope Mommy will, too, okay?”
I glance up, meeting Grace’s eyes that are glossy. The sympathy in her expression threatens to undo me more than the moment already has because having her here with me and the kids makes Nora’s absence so much easier to bear. I’m not alone, and neither are the kids. Having her support means everything. I give her a small nod. It’s all I’ve got.
“Let’s finish our burgers,” I say, trying for lightness, “then I’m ordering us the biggest chocolate sundaes this place has ever seen.”
Grace raises an eyebrow, doing her part to play along. “With extra whipped cream?”
“Mountains of it,” I say.
“And chocolate sprinkles with extra fudge sauce?”
“Anything you want.”
“Banana,” Junie says softly. “I want banana.”
“What about you, Eli?” Grace asks, touching her scrunched hand tenderly.
She shrugs. “The same.”
The waitress returns as if she’s been watching from the kitchen for a moment so we can accept our order. The food’s hot and quick to eat, with fries and ketchup and greasy wrappers that somehow make everything feel a little more normal. The girls eat like they didn’t just have their hearts torn out. That’s the thing about kids. They break quickly, but they mend as fast if you give them something solid to come back to.
I tell them the old story about how Cody once tried to milk a bull because he “didn’t check under the hood,” and the corners of Eli’s mouth twitch. Then Junie giggles, loud and wild, making all of us laugh, and the booth feels warm again.
Grace watches it all happen, one hand still resting on Junie’s back, and it hits me how easily she fits here. Like she’s always been part of this picture, adding to it in a way that makes space for everyone to breathe, including me.
Outside, the sun has dipped behind the diner’s roofline, and Eli yawns so hard her eyes water. Junie hums something soft under her breath, probably a nursery rhyme Grace taught her. I open the truck door and let them climb in. Grace leans over to buckle Junie in, brushing my little girl’s hair back and whispering something that makes her smile. It’s second nature to her now and watching her do it makes hope twist low in my chest.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right with their mom. I don’t know if the ache she left behind will ever stop feeling like failure. But maybe all I have to do is give my kids something steady and real.
I climb in, settle behind the wheel, and as I reach for the keys, my hand drifts toward Grace. She takes it without hesitation and slides her fingers into mine like they’ve done it a hundred times before.
I let myself believe, for one quiet, borrowed moment, that maybe this is the start of something that won’t break.
Maybe this is the beginning.
43
CONWAY
Grace is curled up against me on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder, the hem of her borrowed T-shirt brushing my forearm. McCartney’s in front of the fireplace doing some kind of bizarre chicken dance, arms flapping like a bird on fire, and none of us have a damn clue what movie he’s trying to mime.
“Is it Free Willy?” Cody guesses, which makes the kids scream with laughter because McCartney is clearly miming something other than a whale.
“Why would Free Willy flap its arms, you idiot?” Nash calls from where he’s got his arm around Hannah, who’s splayed across his chest like a warm blanket.
“I dunno, artistic interpretation?” Cody grins and shrugs like that somehow explains it.
“Chicken Run!” Grace shouts, then sits up a little when McCartney gives her an exaggerated thumbs-up and falls dramatically to the floor.
“Finally!” McCartney groans. “I’ve been out here for ten minutes. I was gonna start laying eggs.”
Rory claps his hands gleefully from Levi’s lap, a tiny crown of freshly washed bedtime curls bouncing with every giggle. “Da da da,” he shouts.
Levi smirks and kisses the top of his head. “Little man’s having fun.”
Corbin returns from the kitchen like some damn domestic goddess, carrying a tray of cookies and cups of milk, and every child in the room lights up like Christmas. “Grace’s cookies,” he announces like a proud husband. The kids dive at him like baby wolves, and he hands out the snacks, urging them all to be careful.
“Credit where credit’s due,” he says to Grace with a wink.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, glowing in that soft way she gets when she’s happy and proud. She leans into me again, warm and sure.
I pull her closer, wanting to freeze this exact moment and live inside it.