Eligible Ex-husband - Marie Johnston Page 0,6

moving forward and rediscovering myself. “Why don’t you just stay at the house tonight? I didn’t get a chance to pack the girls’ stuff.”

I swallow hard and wait for his answer. I’m an adult. I can make this offer and not let it get my hopes up. Likewise, if he declines, I can acknowledge that it doesn’t work for him and the reason is none of my business.

The way his jaw tightens as he slides his gaze toward me sends butterflies tumbling through my belly. I can do this. He would be a guest. The girls’ father. Staying in the house we had big dreams for. The house we thought we’d entertain our grandkids in—together.

The offer is logical, and not for my benefit. Not even for his. While he has a room for the girls and clothing at his place, he doesn’t have Maddy’s Pink Kitty, the stuffed cat with one eye, or Abby’s Flipper, the stuffed turtle from the Fargo Zoo. Those are more critical to the kids than clothing.

“As long as you’re okay with that,” he says, his voice a low rumble, like he thinks it might mess with him too.

No getting hopes up. It’s just one night. Two at the most. The cold, emotionless man who had sat across the table from me scribbling his signature on the divorce papers wouldn’t look at my offer as more than pure logistics.

I nod before I have the guts to say no. Doubts unfurl in my brain. Is asking him to stay at the house cowardly? Is it a sign that I can’t let go when I really should? We were married eight years. Two months of separation and seven months of divorce aren’t enough to get over that, but I can still be an adult.

The girls jump up and down and hug me. I break away. Simon still has a house key. He doesn’t need more instructions from me, and I’m afraid to witness that the idea of sleeping under the same roof again doesn’t affect him.

I’m not supposed to get my hopes up, but the thought that gives me strength as I walk to Mom’s hospital room is that Simon is coming home.

Chapter 3

Simon

I wake up with Abby sprawled on the bed beside me and Maddy pressed into my back like she’s determined to steamroll me off the bed. Good thing it’s still ingrained in me to sleep in a T-shirt and shorts, and that I had a small overnight bag with me in case I had to stay in New York.

I ease myself away from her and swing my legs down. Rubbing my eyes, I finish waking up while listening for Natalie.

Nothing.

I stagger out of the upstairs guest bedroom to the bathroom the room shares with the girls’ bedroom. The guest room was supposed to be Abby’s but they wanted to be roommates. I could’ve used one of the two spare bedrooms in the basement that the girls are too afraid to move into, but hated to be far from them when it’s just us in the house.

And it’d feel too much like I was nothing more than a guest.

A shower will help me feel human. I forgot what a crappy night’s sleep I often get living under the same roof as the girls. Between storms, growing pains, and just because, having one or both in bed with me is a common occurrence.

Does Natalie go through the day like a zombie? How easily I fell into assuming that they’d outgrown it when I know better. At my place, they share a bed and that helps more than sharing a room.

I yawn and flip on the light in the bathroom. Then I flip it back off. Natalie didn’t mention that she wasn’t the only one showering when she got called about her mom. The girls must’ve been taking one of their hurricane baths. Water had been drained out of the tub, but it was littered with toys, and clothing and towels covered the floor.

I go downstairs and across the house to the master bedroom, not bothering with the bathroom in the basement. If Natalie’s sleeping, I’ll suck it up and pick up the upstairs bathroom instead of letting her think she has another shower to clean downstairs.

The bedroom door is cracked open like normal. Well, my normal. From when I lived here. Walking through this house is so familiar it makes my fucking chest ache.

I push the thought away and peek inside. The bed’s not made, but I