over him and I say a little prayer. He’s decked out in a white shirt and suit vest, and he looks so good.
He slides his shades to the top of his head and flashes a smile at the girls. I notice all his battle scars are gone. He is flawless again.
“Hello, girls.”
Claire runs to him and gives him a big hug. “Hi, Weston. Where have you been?” She asks, just like he’s an old friend. It would be so cute, if it weren’t so damn wrong.
Chloe shoots him a shy smile.
And I glare, but just a little. I’m desperately trying to control my emotions. I cannot make a scene. “Did you just come from work?” I ask. “You’re a little overdressed.”
He smiles. “Yes, I did. Just thought I’d come and see how your day was.”
I bite down a curse. “You did, did you?” I say politely, knowing this is far from an innocent friendly visit.
His smile fades as he buries his hands in his pockets. “How are you?”
I attempt a smile, trying to retain an iota of composure. There are people all around and I don’t want to look like I’m in a lovers’ quarrel. And then there are the girls too. Chloe is not stupid.
“Walk with us to the car,” I finally manage. “We’ll catch up.”
“Sure,” he says, eager. I catch a glimpse of his town car parked on the road, off in the distance.
The girls trail behind us as we walk toward the parking lot.
“You know you shouldn’t be here…the girls, my colleagues,” I tell him, my words a whisper.
“I know,” he concedes. “I just wanted to see how you were, after…I know you haven’t appreciated my calls.”
I smile at him. “I’m fine, Weston. Really. That’s the truth.”
I can see relief wash over his features. “I’m glad.”
I want to say goodbye. I want closure. I want to end this, once and for all. But this isn’t the place or time. “I would like to talk sometime, just the two of us.”
His face lights up. I can see his eyes through the amber shade of his glasses. He seems so happy. “I would like that…very much so.”
I wince a little. He doesn’t realize I’m about to end things. He’s still so delusional. But I do owe him a proper goodbye, after all we’ve been through, all we’ve shared.
I press the button on my key fob and hear the familiar beep of my car. “I’ll contact you soon within a week, I promise.”
He scratches the edge of his jaw, his five o’clock shadow in full evidence at three o’clock. “I’ll be waiting with bated breath,” he tells me as he shoots me one of his devastating smiles.
And my knees weaken a little. “Goodbye, Weston,” I say as I open the back door of my blue Mini Cooper.
He waves as he strides off.
Looking way too happy.
Gabe and I and the girls have a run-of-the-mill conversation over wings and mac and cheese.
How has school been so far? Awesome. Are your best pals in your class? Melanie and Candace, but not Jessie. How are the kids this year? Good, but there’s one little guy named Sebastian who is going to give me a run for my money.
It’s just a regular conversation, but the next few words are life-changing. It seems Gabe and I communicate telepathically. We know what we need to do, for the sake of our family. And we both know our entire lives are about to be up-rooted, woken from their cozy sleepy states, shaken up.
It starts with a few words.
“So,” I say.
Gabe looks up from his plate of mac and cheese, a honey-garlic flavored wing in his hand. “So what?”
“So,” I say again, sucking in a breath. “Weston came by today after school.”
He drops his wing. He closes his eyes and blows out a long breath. I see the restraint in his face, in his stance, in the grip of his fist. “I see,” is all he says.
“He didn’t stay long. I told him we would talk soon.”
“And you told him about Phoenix?”
“No,” I say. “But I will.”
“Yes, please do.”
“So, we’re really doing this?”
“We have no other choice.”
Gabe and I have decided to put the house on the market. But unfortunately, it’s not exactly in tip-top shape, there’s a lot of work to be done.
We decide to do most of it ourselves, and it seems we spend hours going over the renovations.
This is just what I need. Between school, the girls, moving, and these renovations, I barely have any time