bribing us with sugar.”
Love. I grinned. “Is it working?”
“No.” Her back was turned to me so I couldn’t see her face but to me, no sounded a lot like yes. She set the three mason jars of wildflowers on the windowsill, and I nudged her aside and turned on the tap.
“I’ll have to try another tactic then.” I washed my hands at the farmhouse sink, the window above it affording me a view of her garden, the last rays of evening sun painting it bronze. Flowers and plants thrived, thanks to her green thumb. Beyond her little garden a tire swing hung from the branch of an oak tree, and next to that was a wood climbing frame and a small shed. I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and turned around to face her and Noah.
“Make yourself at home.”
“I will.” I rubbed my hands together. “Where’s my dough?”
“You weren’t even invited. You can watch us.”
“You can have some of mine.” Noah pinched off a two-inch piece of dough and set it in front of me.
“You’re far too generous. I bet I can turn this dough into a twelve-inch pizza.” I indicated with my hands how big that was.
Noah looked at the dough skeptically. “How?” he asked, intrigued.
“Magic.” I stole Lila’s dough out from under her and started kneading it on the floured surface.
“Hey.” Lila swatted my arm and tried to get it back but I nudged her aside.
“Back off, Minnie Mouse. You know you love to watch me knead it. You love to watch my arms flex and my big hands work the dough.”
“Stop it,” she said, laughing. “Seriously. You need to stop.”
Noah was too busy bashing the dough with a rolling pin to pay us any attention.
“Did your mommy teach you how to spin it?” I asked Noah after I’d pressed my dough into a disc shape.
He shook his head. “Can you teach me?”
“Sure can. It’s all about the rotation.”
“Stop showing off,” Lila said as I tossed and spun the dough in the air, catching it on the backs of my fists. But she was laughing again. It was so good to hear her laugh. So fucking incredible to make her happy instead of sad.
This was how I’d always imagined our life. Full of joy and laughter and love.
After Noah had begged me to tell him a bedtime story and I’d complied, Lila kicked me out of his bedroom so she could say goodnight and tuck him in. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that she’d put stars on his ceiling, similar to the ones I’d put on her ceiling all those years ago. Noah slept under the constellation Orion, and I took that as a sign that she had been thinking about me. That she still remembered some of the good instead of all the bad and ugly. After her comment in the driveway the other night, I hadn’t been so sure that was the case.
I picked up one of the framed photos on the bookshelves and studied it. Lila was holding Noah in her arms. He must have been a newborn. So tiny. So precious. Wrapped in a white blanket. She was smiling down at her son. Brody was standing next to her hospital bed, his smile aimed at Lila. He was looking at her like she’d put the stars in the sky. And she had. She’d given him a son. And I fucking hated him for it. Hated that he got to share something with her that I never had. Probably never would.
At the sound of her footsteps behind me, I set the photo back on the shelf.
“Do you love him?” I asked, my back turned to her.
She didn’t answer right away. As if she needed to give it some thought rather than gifting me with the automatic no I was praying would come out of her mouth.
Steeling myself to hear the truth, I turned around to face her. “Do you love Brody?” I repeated.
“Not the way I loved you.”
Not the way I loved you. Loved. Past tense. “So you do love him?”
She came to stand in front of me, her gaze drifting to the photo I’d just set back on the shelf. “I love him as a friend. As the father of my son.”
“What happened? How did this happen?” All the hurt and anger I’d harbored since I’d found out she and Brody had a son together, threatened to burst out of the compartment I’d shoved it into. A place I’d refused to visit or