Eligible Ex-husband - Marie Johnston Page 0,60

when we get to that point, we’ll plan… something.”

When we get to that point. He has no doubt. Do I?

I’m not sure and it’s an answer I feel I should know. But it’s barely been a month. We’ve only been divorced for almost eight months now, apart for ten, but it’ll take more than a few weeks to repair what happened between us.

The girls go off about what they’d want a wedding to be like. Simon catches my eyes and shrugs. “That was easier than expected.”

I smile. I don’t know what I was expecting. The girls would think a conversation about which Disney princess is their favorite is more critical than me and Simon getting back together. Because in their eyes, we already are.

I let out a quiet breath and cut one of my boring round pancakes.

“Are you okay with me moving back into the bedroom?” he asks low enough that the girls can’t hear.

“Of course.” I’m not. I want him in there, but it’s a monumental step. My parents know, Rachel knows, and now the girls. Depending on how the news skews the interview, the Fargo viewing area might know too. I’m sure all our neighbors have come to the conclusion since his vehicle’s been here almost every night for weeks.

And that doesn’t bother me like I thought it would. But not having that barrier between us—different bedrooms—that’s a big change.

Am I okay with it?

“What about the condo?”

Yeah. That. I ponder the subject a moment. I don’t care about the condo as much as the bedroom. It was nothing but a separate bedroom for him, just across town.

“I’d like to sell it,” he says.

He’s so confident. But that’s always been the dynamic between us. I’m the pessimist and he’s the eternal optimist.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

His lopsided smile helps erase my doubts. I watch him lean over the table to help Maddy slice her pancake, not caring if he gets syrup on the front of his trousers. He came home early because of this, because he cared what I thought.

If I truly have my husband back, then yes, I’m more than okay having him next to me when I wake up.

He sits back down. “I think we should go fishing.”

“What?” My question is drowned out by the girls squealing.

“I took Friday off. Told Helena to work from home. You said the girls don’t have activities this week, so I thought maybe we could go camping.”

“Where? With what?” We’ve never gone camping. I did with my parents when I was a kid. I don’t see Phyllis and Trent Gainesworth as campers unless it’s managing to rent a cabin in Aspen just to say they did.

“One of my clients is loaning us his cabin by Detroit Lakes. It’s small, but it’ll be enough for us to get away and fish a little.”

“Do you know how to fish?” I don’t mean to be insulting, but… fishing? It’s one of those things we talked about wanting to do regularly but if we ever had time off together, we’d work on the yard or go to a park.

“Dad can fish,” Abby proudly announces.

Simon grins. “You remember the stories of Uncle Liam and me when we went to summer camp?”

Maddy furiously nods, her curls bouncing.

Summer camp. That makes sense. Not because they were sent for their own enjoyment and personal growth, but so their parents didn’t have to parent.

“It’s been a few years, but we can learn together,” he assures them.

We watch his interview. Nothing scandalous was revealed. They concentrated on his work and what he offers to the community. The whole time he’s on-screen, the girls are delighted and I can’t take my eyes off him, anticipation building after our talk at the table.

Not only did he come home early, but we’re taking a short vacation. I don’t know how relaxing it’ll be but I don’t care. I’m looking forward to having my husband to myself, whether it’s tonight in bed, or out in the woods all weekend.

Chapter 18

Natalie

“You even know how to build a campfire, Daddy?” Maddy’s eyes brim with awe. The sun is setting and Simon’s squatting by the fire pit, turning the propane.

“This isn’t quite the same, but it’ll still cook s’mores,” he says as he clicks the button that’ll fire it up.

His client’s small cabin isn’t what either of us expected. I thought it’d be rustic and when Simon said it was described as small, I expected all of us to share a room. We’d sleep on cots or