Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Lyla had never understood the appeal. She’d complained constantly about the lack of shopping, restaurants, nightlife. She’d wanted to move to Portland or Boston, somewhere with more opportunities and fewer questions about our increasingly cold marriage. I’d refused, and she’d resented me for it right up until the day she left.
Kay’s house smelled like pot roast and fresh bread when I knocked on the front door. Through the window, I could see Luca at the kitchen table with her grandson Marcus, both boys bent over homework with identical expressions of concentration.
“Come in, come in,” Kay called, appearing with flour on her apron and a knowing smile. “Luca’s been an angel. Set the table without being asked and helped Marcus with his math.”
“Thanks for taking him on such short notice.”
“Nonsense.” She waved off my apology. “That boy is welcome here anytime. You look stressed, honey. Everything alright?”
Of course she’d noticed. In a town of three thousand people, it was impossible to hide when something was wrong. But I wasn’t ready to explain the situation to anyone yet.
“Just work stuff,” I said vaguely.
Kay gave me a look that suggested she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t press. “Well, whatever it is, that little boy thinks the world of you. He spent most of the afternoon telling Marcus about the birdhouse you two built last weekend.”
While Luca gathered his backpack, Kay pulled me aside. “How are you holding up, honey? Really?”
The genuine concern in her voice almost undid me. Kay had been like a surrogate grandmother to Luca since Lyla walked out. She’d babysat during emergencies, attended every school play and soccer game, and never once made me feel like I was imposing.
“I’m managing,” I said carefully.
Luca bounded over with his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready, Dad?”
The drive home was filled with Luca’s chatter about school, his upcoming soccer game, and the Halloween costume he couldn’t decide between. Normal six-year-old concerns that made my chest ache with how simple and innocent they were.
“Dad?” Luca’s voice turned thoughtful as we pulled into our driveway. “Marcus said his parents argue a lot. Do you think they’re sad?”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. Trust Luca to pick up on adult problems even when the adults tried to hide them. “Sometimes grown-ups disagree about things, buddy. That doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”
“Oh. Good.” He seemed satisfied with this explanation. “Can we have hamburgers for dinner? With the buns that have seeds on top?”
“Sure thing.”
We were halfway through dinner when the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. Too late for deliveries, too early for emergencies, but right on time for Gianna.
She stood on my front porch, clutching a bottle of wine and looking nervous. She’d changed from her work clothes into dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater that made her hazel eyes look more green than brown. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she’d chewed off most of her lipstick.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
“Miss G!” Luca squeezed past me to hug her waist. “Did you come for dinner? We’re having cheeseburgers.”
She smiled down at him, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I ate already, sweetheart. But thank you.”
“You can have dessert with us. Dad said we could have ice cream if I finished all my carrot sticks.”
“Did you finish them?”
Luca’s grin turned sheepish. “Almost. There’s one stick left, but it looks weird.” He held his hand up and curved his index finger into a half-arch shape.
Gianna laughed. A real laugh that made my chest warm despite the circumstances. “Well, we can’t have weird vegetables. Why don’t you go deal with that carrot while I talk to your dad?”
He scampered back to the kitchen, leaving us alone on the porch. The October evening was crisp enough to see our breath, and Gianna pulled her sweater tighter around herself.
“Want to come in?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not yet. I need to say this first, before I lose my nerve.”
My stomach dropped. She was going to say no. I could see it in the way she held herself, the careful distance she maintained between us. I’d asked too much, pushed too hard, and now I was going to lose my best friend along with my son.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the marriage, all of it.” She took a shaky breath. “You’re right that we already act like a family most of the time. Luca does spend more time with me than with most babysitters, even with his own mother. And I do love him like he’s my own.”
Hope flickered in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral. She wasn’t done yet.
“But I need you to understand what this would mean for me. What I’d be risking.”
“Tell me.”
“My heart.” The words came out barely above a whisper. “I’d be risking my heart, Colby. Because playing house with you and Luca, pretending to be your wife, sharing your bed . . .” She stopped, color flooding her cheeks. “It’s going to feel real. And when it’s over, when you don’t need me anymore, I’ll have to find a way to go back to being just your friend. I’m not sure I can do that.”