have trouble facing life on your own.”
Ivory nodded. “God gives us friends for a reason. He knows we need that physical touch as well as just the idea that there’s someone standing behind you, supporting you.”
“Isn’t that what a marriage is for?” Athena asked, just a little teasing, because both Ivory and Marlowe had great marriages.
“Of course. But there’s a difference between marriage friendship and friendship friendship. You need both.”
The bell rang, and they squeezed once more before breaking apart, Marlowe going around behind the counter and Ivory putting her things down to check out.
Athena was kinda stuck on what Marlowe said about “needing” the marriage relationship. She felt like it was a need.
Maybe she should give up on Preston and actively search for someone else. Although honestly, she’d spent enough time away from Preston that if she were truly going to get over him, she probably should have already.
She waved goodbye to Ivory, nodded at Marlowe, and wandered down the aisle of the store, looking for the boots she’d come in for.
She wasn’t sure exactly whether she was sold on the idea of there being a soulmate for each person and if a person didn’t find their soulmate, then there was no point in getting married.
She was pretty sure that wasn’t true. Pretty sure that married love was less about the tingles and excitement of finding the exact right one and more about simple determination, perseverance, and commitment to keeping one’s word, even when it was hard.
It also had to be about loving your spouse and children and doing what was best for them. Someone with an alcohol addiction couldn’t possibly even begin to be able to keep a commitment like that.
That meant, as much as her heart might not want to hear it, Preston was not available.
Chapter 5
Preston stood back against the wall and watched as two burly dudes expertly guided a hospital bed into his living room and put it in the spot Athena had cleared for it just thirty minutes ago.
She had cleared the spot, cleaned it, and muttered under her breath about slovenly people and men who do not clean up after themselves, and he thought he heard the words “disgusting pig” and “alcoholic,” although he could have been wrong, but at that point, he’d gone out to the back porch and sat down on the narrow step, holding his head in his hands and wishing he had a different life.
Wishing hadn’t made it so, and when he lifted his head, nothing had changed.
He wasn’t nearly done wishing when he’d heard the truck pull in and figured he’d better go offer to lend a hand if necessary.
It wasn’t. The men knew what they were doing and were adept.
Much more adept than he would have been.
Athena didn’t even need to stand and micromanage anything.
He wasn’t being fair.
She wasn’t as bossy or commanding or micromanaging as he chose to imagine her in his head.
She was just organized and driven and quite capable of getting things done, no matter what was standing in her way. If she couldn’t go through whatever obstacle was in her path, she found a way around it or over it or under it.
He just always tried to see her in the worst light possible.
Mostly because making her look worse made him look better.
Deep down, he knew he’d never be good enough for her.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and he was sure the look on his face was glowering, at the very least.
Unsurprisingly, he had a headache, and honestly, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for the chaos that was about to descend on his household.
More than that, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to be a father.
The men were almost finished, and Preston couldn’t stand the idea of being left alone with Athena. So he pushed off from the wall and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” Athena looked up, and maybe she didn’t mean for her words to come out sharp and quick, but that’s the way he heard them.
“So you’re moving Joyce in, and now I have to check with you before I walk out my front door?” he said. His tone wasn’t exactly kind.
Yeah, his words made her eyes widen, and he regretted them.
But they were out, had already shot to her ears and her heart, and he couldn’t take them back, so he didn’t even try. Just waited with his hand on the doorknob, conscious of the men whose heads had picked