“How was your date night?” Pete asks, clapping me on the back. “Abby wanted to call you a million times, but I talked her out of it. Janie finally distracted them with lemonade and cookies.”
Janie gives Pete a playful shove. “You weren’t supposed to tell them that.” She winks at me. “Just like he’s not supposed to say that this was well after their bedtime.”
I enjoy the play between the two. “You were just helping them practice staying up late to see the fireworks tonight.”
Natalie appears at my side, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a while. “Are you all done for the day?” she asks quietly as her parents head to the back deck.
Not even close. But I’m not missing a holiday with my family. “I’m free for now. What do you want me to prepare?”
I’m rewarded with a grateful smile. “I can help you.”
In the kitchen, we busy ourselves with pulling out strawberries, blueberries, melons, and the standard carrots and celery, the only vegetables the girls regularly sample. My mind drifts back to the call this morning. I discreetly check the time. Helena should have the letter done soon. As long as I have my phone on me and can sneak away for ten minutes, I can do enough to mitigate any damage and head off any rumors before tomorrow.
I position myself to cut while she rinses and arranges dishes. “Are you sure you’re done for the day?” she asks.
She knows me too well. “I have a little more to do, but this comes first. I also told her that we needed to start our preparations for expanding.”
I slice into a carrot but Natalie is silent. Peering over my shoulder, I start chuckling. She’s staring at me from over her shoulder, disbelief in her eyes. “Expanding.”
“I told her that we’ll start to look for a new space and work on hiring her own assistant. I think it’s time. You need more help, and it’s so nice to spend a holiday together.”
There’s a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “I feel like there’s a but.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I mean, I feel bad that Rachel has to do another holiday by herself. One of those things where I’m so happy we can be together, but then sad because not everyone has this opportunity.”
“Then invite her.”
She sets a colander full of ripe strawberries next to my cutting board and gazes up at me, guarded delight in her hazel eyes. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“The more the merrier. We have plenty of food and she can bail before we go to Bonanzaville for fireworks or she can join us, depending on how she and her kiddos feel.” I want Natalie to keep the friendships she strengthened during our split. It wasn’t until she talked about Aleah and Rachel that I reflected on our lack of couple friends, and my lack of friends and acquaintances outside of work.
When Abby was a toddler and we’d go to the park, I’d strike up conversations with other dads, but it never went far. I always had to return to work.
“You’re okay with telling her about us?” she asks.
“Only if you are.” I was okay with telling the world, but even if Natalie is more comfortable doing it one person at a time, it’s still progress.
She leans against the counter with a bemused expression, her arms crossed. “Look at us. Having friends and family over. Throwing a party.”
We talked about doing that pre-divorce, but our world had closed in on itself until it was just us and Gainesworth Equity. I trap her against the counter, thinking of all the ways I can delight her beyond inviting her friends over.
“The first of many, babe.” It was a promise. This is only the beginning, and there’s no end in sight.
* * *
Natalie
Laughter drifts across the lawn. Kia tags Simon’s legs and runs off. Maddy and Abby scatter, peals of giggles carrying across the yard. Simon sprints across the yard, his strong legs carrying him so far so fast that he’s practically doing a slow-motion run to give the kids a chance.
As he runs, his shirt plasters to his broad chest. I’ve been watching him play more than I’ve been watching the kids.
“He certainly seems to be having fun,” Mom comments. Normally, she’d be trotting around the yard, but she’s not quite one hundred percent. My dad’s wandering through the grass, making jovial comments about the game of tag and keeping an eye on Rachel’s youngest, Braxton.
“He’s always been good with kids.” I take a sip of the lemonade Rachel brought.
She reclines in her chair, her head back and her sunglasses hiding that her eyes are probably closed. “All I know is that I owe you and Simon my sanity.”
“That bad?” When I called, I half expected her to assume it’s a pity invite and say no, but she offered up her special blueberry lemonade—which is really store-bought lemonade—and said she’d be here in a half hour.
“Not all the time. It’s like they know it’s a special day but we were just staying home. Nothing was making Braxton happy and I felt like Kia was holding a contest for most ornery day ever.”
Mom gets up and pats Rachel’s shoulder. “When I’m feeling better, I’ll offer up a day a month to hang out with them.”
“You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Wagner.”
Mom brushes her off. “Janie or Nana. Hearing ‘Mrs. Wagner’ makes me shudder. My mother-in-law was a hard woman. Anyway, an old retired lady can spare a day to entertain kids. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to steal Abby’s bed for a quick snooze so I don’t crash during fireworks.”
“Your family’s amazing,” Rachel says when Mom leaves.
“Yours would be too if they lived closer.”
She lifts her head and we both gaze at the revelry. Simon swoops down and picks up Braxton, tucking him into his arms without missing a beat of tag.
Rachel looks at me, her aviator sunglasses hiding her expression. “He’s good with kids. Like, really good.”
“He always has been. I think it’s because he has the same energy they do. It’s nice to see it channeled toward fun and not his job.”
“Is it channeled toward you too?”
My cheeks warm. That’s not exactly what she’s asking, but Simon and I have expended plenty of energy on that topic. “He had a minor work emergency last night and he could be holed up in the office dealing with it, but he took care of what he could this morning and left the rest.”
“That’s improvement,” she murmurs.
She was mildly surprised when I told her that Simon was here and we’re working things out. I haven’t sensed a full stamp of approval, but she has so much on her mind while her husband’s gone.
I can’t hear what Simon’s saying to the girls, but he’s got them lined up and hopping on one foot with their finger on their nose.
Rachel chuckles when she sees what they’re doing. “I guess Kia will be able to pass a DUI test when she’s older.” She lifts her chin toward them. “I had no idea that Abby looked so much like him.”
“Maddy does too. She has my hair so everyone thinks she looks like me.” Something about what she says catches my attention. “Wait, haven’t you ever met Simon?”
I met Rachel a few years ago but we haven’t been as close as we are now, not until we each had to be single parents. Have we really only crossed paths in kid activities or playdates? What about mom dates? Would our spouses get along?
“No. I feel like I know him from how much you talk about him though.”
“I don’t talk about him that much.”
She rolls a droll look toward me. “If it’s not the kids, it’s him.”
“Well, I mean…” She’s right. There’s not much else in my life but my family. Once I started training for my half-marathon, we talked about that and then my upcoming business venture. “I do talk about him all the time, don’t I?”
“I’m sure I talk about Mike a lot.”
Do I really talk about Simon ad nauseam? “Nothing noticeable.”
“I didn’t mean you go on and on. I just meant that once you came up with the idea to sta
rt Let Me Assist You and started training with Aleah, it was nice to hear you have something for yourself. Everything was wrapped up in Simon and, married or not, that’s not healthy.”
Oh. She has a point. I didn’t have much going on for myself before my divorce that wasn’t my husband or kids. I’ve been slacking on both my training and startup. I don’t want to lose Simon, but I don’t want to lose me either.
Simon trots over with Braxton propped on a shoulder. “One of us smells like he messed his drawers.”
Rachel takes her sunglasses off and grins. “I’m going to guess it’s my little man, but since I don’t know you well…”
Simon laughs and hands him over. When she’s inside, he plops in her chair, his arms hanging over the sides.
“Kia’s got some speed on her, but damn, Maddy’s a fast one. I think she kicked all our asses in tag.”
“She’s been racing in the yard since the snow melted. Claims she’s practicing for soccer.”
He blows out a breath and sifts through the cups on the patio table until he finds his. “If that’s the level of kindergartners I’m going to coach then I’m in trouble.”
As if six little girls will even faze him. The real hurdle will be getting him to show up.
He takes a long pull on what’s left of his lemonade, his throat working with each swallow. I’m just as helpless as I was in college. Getting distracted by his looks.
He finishes off his cup and turns his contemplative gaze toward me. “You don’t think I’m going to make it work, do you?”
“I think you’ll really try.”
He watches me for a moment before he shoves a hand through his hair, ruffling it even more. Between that and his scruff, it’s hard not to climb on his lap and just sit and enjoy the rest of the day touching him. That’s what his casual look does. Makes him approachable. Touchable.
“You need to talk to me,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know… until you told me it was already over, I didn’t know.”
I look around. Rachel’s still inside and Dad’s with the kids across the lawn. Mom’s napping. This isn’t a good time for a talk, but we have some privacy. “I did tell you.”
“Not straight forward. Not ‘Simon, if you don’t listen to me I’m going to divorce you.’ All I remember are comments and I thought I was working on it. I thought I was doing as much as I could. I thought… I had time.” He sits forward, the gravity in his gaze weighing his words down. “You were honest with me, but you weren’t straightforward. If I fuck up again, you gotta tell me. Flat out tell me.”
My nod is shaky. Honest, but not straightforward. I think of all the times I commented on his long hours, his absences, how he should’ve made the preschool graduation program since it was in the evening and not during the day when he’s with clients.
Then I think of his responses. He can’t pick his client’s time zones. It’s the cost of growing. He can’t waste the money Liam left for him. Working from home is too disruptive.
And I left it. I kept leaving it as his final word until I left him.
“Okay,” I say roughly. “I’ll be straightforward.”
His nod is the final boardroom deal one. We have the final terms of our arrangement.
Chapter 17
Simon
Helena is across from my desk, her expression solemn as she updates me on the replies to the information we sent out yesterday. For the most part, we’re in the clear. Our clients continue to trust us and Mr. Waterson is a prick. But we knew that.
She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. I’ve never seen her less than put together, but she’s downright haggard today. Her hair isn’t in its normal twist, bun, or clip and there are circles under her eyes.
It’s hard going to work the morning after the Fourth. Last night was probably a late one for her too. It gets dark well after ten p.m. this time of year, creating an early morning after enjoying a night of fireworks. She’s probably just tired.
She checks her notes. “Tomorrow, I’ll upload the job opening and start looking for larger spaces. How many personnel should I make sure it can accommodate?”
Right. My company is growing. It was a big deal to take on Helena and Charlie, and a temporary mollification for my father who thought I should have an entire building to myself with our last name fifteen feet tall and a fleet of financial advisors at my command.
He’ll be delighted to hear I’m expanding. Getting real office staff instead of contracting minor duties. Only he’ll disguise it as critiques and criticisms and couch it in comments about how this should’ve happened years ago—without my brother’s money.
But I’m not expanding for him. I’m doing it for me. And partly for Helena who looks thrashed and like a three-day weekend was half what she needed. I guess it was since she worked part of it.
“Let’s start with a space that can accommodate four employees for now and we’ll see what we find.”
She bobs her head and checks her Apple Watch. “The first of your interviews will be here shortly.”
Shit. I forgot those were today. “How many?”
“Three, but the news station is first, so be prepared for a camera.”
Before I can dwell on how awkwardly crappy it’ll be to field questions about my personal life, there’s a commotion in the main area where Helena’s office is.
“Girls, keep your voices down,” Natalie hisses. “They could be on the phone.”
Helena’s expression lightens when the girls press their face to the plexiglass windows flanking my door, their rainbow shirts and pink leggings instantly brightening the office. She waves them in without asking me first. “No worries. We’re just reviewing the week ahead.”
Natalie pulls the door open. The girls trample in, their arms full of containers. “Sorry. I just wanted to quickly drop off some leftover goodies from yesterday. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She flashes Helena a rueful smile. “I should’ve known better.”
Maddy drops a plastic container on the floor. Celery and carrot sticks rattle inside. She picks it up and shakes it some more. “It’s only the vegetables.”
Helena laughs. “They can take a lot.”
This Helena is one I’ve never seen before. Perhaps it was the tension between me and Natalie that subdued her so much before.
Natalie unloads a jug of lemonade into the fridge and sets a bin of Nana’s cookies on the counter. She pushes her hair off her face and smiles sheepishly at me. I drink in the sight of her—sunglasses tucked into wild curls and bare legs. Not unlike the day we met walking between campus buildings. I saw her and had to get to know her.
It was hard leaving a quiet house after such a fun day yesterday. Everyone was asleep while sun streamed through the windows. I wanted to stay and make a fun breakfast, the kind with Mickey Mouse pancakes, sprinkles, and whipped cream, but I had to throw on a suit and grab some oatmeal instead.
“Thanks for the goodies. I’ll need it to fuel me through all the interviews this afternoon.”
Natalie grimaced. “Those are today?”
Helena gives her an apologetic smile, but I don’t blame my assistant. If I had to, I’d do it again. We signed on a few new clients and inquiries come in every week.
Doesn’t mean other parts of it aren’t a pain in the ass.
Abby rounds the desk and pushes her way onto my lap. “What are you working on?”
“Abs, we have to go,” Natalie says. “Dad’s got a busy day.”
I gently set Abby down and stand. “I do have to get to work, but you guys come by any time.”
The outer door opens and a young woman enters, holding the door for a guy with a camera. Dammit.
“I’m running while I can,” Natalie whispers, giving me a wink, and herds the girls out of the office, nodding politely to the TV crew.
I hate to see them go, but if I can get through these interviews, I’ll be done forever.
Helena greets the woman and shakes the man’s hand before ushering them into the offi
ce. “This is Hailey and Carlton.”
As the cameraman sets up, Hailey arranges the chair Helena vacated so she’ll be out of view while peppering me with questions. “So, were those your kids?”
“Yes. Abby’s the older one. Maddy’s my youngest.”
She sits and crosses a leg, a pleasant smile on her face. “That’s so nice their nanny can bring them by when you’re working. Makes the day shorter.”
Awkward has already started. “Actually, that was my ex-wife.” My throat constricts around the ex part.
Her brows pop. “Oh. That’s nice. Are you two…” She shakes her head, her smile turning tentative. “Well, the article mentioned co-parenting, but are you two getting back together?”
I didn’t think the local news would be bold enough to ask. North Dakota local news isn’t known for hard-hitting investigative journalism. It often has as much fluff as facts. Doesn’t mean we aren’t nosy as hell and Hailey is probably genuinely curious, without the should I ask this or not filter.
How do I answer? Natalie wants to tell the girls. But I can’t sit here in good conscience and brush my wife off like she isn’t the most important part of my life. “We’re working on being there together for our kids.” Was that ambiguous enough?
Hailey scribbles down something on her notepad. “So, what changes have you made in order to make that happen?”
I cock my head. Changes? Like am I living at home but staying in a separate bedroom? That’s all that’s really changed to make it happen. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I guess that depends on why… um… what your definition of together is.” This is as uncomfortable for her as it is for me, but she’s sticking to her reporting guns and going for the heart of the story. “Adjusting from parenting together to co-parenting must’ve been rough. I’m sure you had to adapt. But if you’re getting back together… I guess that’d depend on why you divorced. Things have to give if it’s going to work out a second time.”
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