those words be the last we exchange because my reply to them would be horribly inappropriate. We’ve managed to keep it mostly friendly, with a few flirty comments here and there. Nothing to feel guilty over...except for the entire conversation in general and the fact that I want his body hovering over mine as he drives into me.
I sigh as I read back through the messages. I commit them to memory, and then I delete them...just in case. I leave a light on for Ford, wash my face, and head to bed.
And just as I slide beneath the covers, I hear the telltale squeak of the garage door. I click off my phone, close my eyes, and pretend to be fast asleep.
It’s a long, sleepless night.
The bed dips when he gets in. He whispers a goodnight, and I remain silent as I school my breathing to even.
I think about Tyler the whole night through.
Would I be happier with him? Or would I still be a lonely housewife...just in a new zip code?
There’s nothing tying me to Milwaukee anymore—except Ford, I guess. Would I be happier in California? I’d be closer to my parents, who would love being closer to Luna. I’d be closer to my sister and my niece. Luna would grow up with a cousin two years her elder who could introduce her to fashion and make-up and boys.
On second thought...the mama bear in me thinks that could be dangerous.
I’d be closer to Tyler.
My heart races just thinking about that possibility.
Luna is up bright and early a little before six, so I get out of bed to get her before she wakes Ford. I realize I got less sleep than him, but he doesn’t know that. He got home a little after one, and tonight will be another late night since there’s another concert.
I miss that schedule. I miss those long nights.
And every time I think that way, the guilt creeps over me again. I shouldn’t miss those things. I gave them up for Luna. I love being her mom. I love spending time with her.
But I miss having an identity. I miss having a purpose besides mommy.
I miss adult conversations with someone aside from my husband, probably a big part of why I enjoyed texting Tyler so much last night.
I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I have feelings for him.
I used to be so close with Patrick, my former boss, and now most of our communication happens with Ford as our middleman. It’s nothing against Patrick—but it’s proximity. I don’t see him every day anymore, so I don’t have that work husband connection we used to share.
The same goes for everyone I used to work with...well, except for Ford, obviously. Those were my people, my friends, and then I had a baby and it seemed like everyone backed slowly away. They didn’t, and in my heart I know that, but my life changed. They didn’t want to hear me drone on and on about how much I loved this tiny new life, and I didn’t really want to hear about all their adventures at work, especially not after Ford convinced me to stay home with the baby.
I push those thoughts away, the thoughts that things aren’t as they appear to be. Instead, we spend the day as the picture-perfect family once Ford gets up at nine-thirty. We have a picnic in the backyard. I snap photos of a girl with her dad. We swing on the swing set and we run around the yard with a ball. We don’t talk about the elephant in the yard, and we don’t bring up Tyler or the fact that Luna isn’t Ford’s daughter.
Even though it feels a little like this is the last time we might have a day where it’s just the three of us and nobody else is in the picture.
Ford leaves for work, Luna goes to sleep, and then I’m by myself again. I’m done playing the parts that are expected of me, and it’s my time to do what I want.
I want to text Tyler again.
I don’t...not right away, at least. I try to busy myself so I won’t give into the temptation.
But the pull is just too strong.
CHAPTER 22
DANIELLE
Me: Are you still thinking about me?
His reply comes quickly, like he was waiting for me.
Tyler: Still haven’t stopped.
I smile like a damn idiot at his text. He shouldn’t be thinking about me. I shouldn’t be thinking about him.
Yet...here we are.
Me: What are