Cody tugs on my shirt, and I nearly fall out of my flip-flops. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy. I’m not the one getting divorced today.
Poor Ethan was a wreck this morning. Spilled his coffee all over his slacks and had to change. I guess his nerves are rubbing off on me.
Since our chat on Sunday morning, we haven’t had any more heart-to-hearts, nothing beyond a soft smile over dinner or a hug when I bring him lunch. Mostly, he’s been working his ass off in the barn to make up for the time he and Logan had to take off today to go to court.
I can’t lie—I miss the intimacy we’d started to build before Sunday morning brought everything crashing down. He’s pulled back, and while he explained why he needed to do that, it’s difficult not to feel a little hurt.
“Want a sandwich?” I ask Cody as I brush his blond hair off his forehead. If I cut it into small squares, he might eat it this time instead of just tearing it apart and gobbling up the lunch meat.
He blinks up at me with his daddy’s blue eyes and gives me a big toothless grin. “Sammich.”
“You got it, buddy.” I grab the bread and a few plates. “Mila, are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
When she doesn’t say more, I turn to watch her coloring at the kitchen table. She’s been coloring a lot lately, ever since she heard her parents arguing Sunday morning.
Last night, Ethan mentioned that he was going to explain to her what was happening today, so I know she might be feeling emotional.
After I make the kids lunch and seat Cody in his high chair, I lean over to see what Mila’s coloring.
“That’s so pretty. Is it for your dad?” She’s drawn a horse and an enormous butterfly.
“Yup.”
“He’s going to love it.”
She doesn’t say anything and barely touches her sandwich.
“Honey, are you sad about today? It’s okay if you are.”
Tears start tumbling down her cheeks, and I pull her into my lap. “Yeah, I’m sad. Re-re-realllllly sad.”
My heart crumbles into a million pieces as I rock her gently. “It’s okay to cry about it, to me or your dad. To your momma too. We all love you, and it’s good to talk about how you’re feeling with people who love you.”
When Mila and Ethan spoke last night, he told me she hadn’t wanted to discuss it. Just kept nodding and acting like the divorce wasn’t a big deal.
It obviously is.
Mila hiccups and holds me tighter. “Momma says she doesn’t want me living with Daddy any-any-anymore.”
As much as I’m struggling to not voice anything derogatory about Allison, I don’t think it’s healthy to turn kids against their parents.
“Sweetheart, she’s just upset, okay? I’m sure she’ll work things out with your dad.”
She nods. “I wanna st-st-stay here. With you and Daddy.”
“And he wants you here. I’m sure once everything settles down, it’ll be okay. Your daddy loves you so much. He’d move mountains to be with you.”
“I wish it was like it used to be. Like in our pictures.” She sniffles, and I grab a napkin and help her blow her nose. “Except I want you here too.”
Mustering a smile, I wipe away a few of my own tears that escape. “If your momma was here, you guys wouldn’t need me to help out, but I understand what you mean.”
I consider the family photos on the mantel in the living room and can’t help wonder what happened to Ethan and Allison to bring them to this point.
Although Allison seems like she very much wants this divorce, she sure leveled a shitload of acrimony my way when she found me with Ethan. She screamed at me like I was the other woman. Like I was responsible for breaking up her family.
Which makes me wonder if she still loves Ethan.
Or if there’s a part of Ethan that still loves her.
After a few more minutes of holding Mila, I sit her in her chair. “Know what always cheers me up? Decorating cookies. Do you think you’d like to help me make some? You can help me stir.” I really shouldn’t feed these kids so much sugar, but I’m at a loss for how to get her out of this funk. I make a mental note to figure out more craft projects.
“Can we do different color icing?”
“Yup. And we can do different shapes too.”
“Can we make Daddy some too?” She sniffles and smiles, pausing to wipe her nose on her arm. Okay, gross.
“Sure can.” I reach for a wet wipe to clean off the snot.
After we set up all the ingredients for the cookies, I pin her drawing to the fridge with a magnet.
When I turn back to Mila, she motions me closer. Leaning close, she points to her drawing and whispers in my ear, “You’re the butterfly.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Butterflies are my favorite.”
Aww. “Thanks, babe. You and Cody are my favorite.”
She whispers solemnly, “What about my daddy? Is he your favorite too?”
That’s an easy answer. “Absolutely.”
Probably more than I’d care to admit.
An hour later, I’m writing the directions down as quickly as possible, but Beverly’s zipping through the recipe faster than I can write.
Pushing the phone higher with my shoulder, I hum into the receiver. “Wait, so you use ice water?”
“Oh, yes. The colder you get the ingredients before you roll it, the better. Otherwise, it’ll get sticky. I also roll out the ball of dough between two large sheets of plastic wrap so you don’t have to peel it off a counter. Way easier.”
“You’re a genius. My crusts never come out right, but I’m going to try this. Baking is tougher for me, so I appreciate the tips.”
“Be sure you send me a picture.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Of my crust?”
“Heck, yes, girl. Gonna be checking your work.”
She’s snickering into the phone, and I’m shaking my head. “The pressure!” I joke. The front door opens, and my pulse kicks up. “Hey, I think Ethan’s home.”
When he enters the kitchen, my attention snags on how handsome he looks in a suit. Damn, he cleans up nicely. Except when we make eye contact, his grim expression makes my stomach clench.
“It’s your mom.” I motion to the phone, my heart sinking when he shakes his head because he always takes her calls.
Logan walks up behind him, slaps him on the back, and tells me they’ll be in the back office.
I nod, watching the brothers disappear down the hall.
“Um, Beverly, can he call you back later?”
She’s quiet. “You have my number now. Call me if you or my son need anything.”
“Yes, ma’am. I sure will. We could FaceTime this week if you want so you can see the kids. They miss you.”
Logan set up his mom with an iPhone before she left, but they haven’t had a chance to video chat yet.
“Thanks, Tori. I appreciate it. And thank you for looking out for my son. He’s told me what a great job you’re doing there, taking care of the kids. Taking care of him.”
“It’s my pleasure.” And it has been.
When we’re off the phone, I do my best to keep myself busy in the kitchen even though I’m dying to know what happened today.
Is he upset his marriage is over? He doesn’t seem like he’s pining over Allison, but it’s not like I knew them as a couple. Maybe they always argued.
It’s none of your business, Tori. If Ethan wanted to tell you, he would.
My heart aches at the prospect. It’s true. I’m not entitled to know anything. I’m just a babysitter. Not his girlfriend. Certainly not anyone he needs to confide in.
I’m chopping vegetables for a stew when his voice cuts through the silence.
“Hey.”
I clutch my chest. “Damn, you scared me.”
Ethan grabs a cup of coffee and pulls up a chair. “Sorry ’bout that.”
When he sits next to me, I catch a whiff of alcohol coming off his breath. Maybe tequila.
“You okay?” I ask gently.
“No.” He rubs his bloodshot eyes as his brother joins us.
Logan slides a notepad across the table to his brother. “Let’s list everything. How much she invested. How much you’ve paid her already. The balance. How we can make up those funds and pay the bitch back.”
“Stop calling her that.” Ethan grabs a pen and begins scribbling on the paper. “What if Mila hears you?”
“I just can’t believe her crap.” Logan’s grumbling trails off.
I look between the brothers, not sure what to say.
Logan must see the question in my eyes. “Allison wants us to pay back the two-hundred-thousand-dollar investment her parents made on the ranch.”
“Okay.” I guess that happens when people get divorced, right? They split up assets?
“In one lump sum.”
“Damn.” Yeah, that sucks.
“But it gets worse. She claims it’s so she can be financially stable enough to petition the court for part-time custody of the kids, which”—he lowers his voice—“we all know is bullshit because she can barely handle them four days a month. Our attorney didn’t want to challenge her on that rationale because doing so might make us look bad in the eyes of the judge. He said that since Allison already agreed to let Ethan have the kids for the time being, there’s no point stirring that pot.”
Logan explains how Ethan provided spousal support for the last year as payment on that investment from her parents in a show of good faith. He didn’t technically owe her alimony because they hadn’t been married ten years, which is one of the requirements for spousal support in Texas. “But Ethan being Ethan, he wanted to help her out because he’s a good guy.” Logan groans and shoves his hands through his hair. “We have three weeks before we have to go back to court and settle this.”
Ethan seems lost in thought. “It was the right thing to do. She’s the mother of my children. I couldn’t let her starve. It’s not like Allison had the chance to build any kind of career while she was living here.” He gets up suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor. “I know her family has money, but it’s not her money.”
Fists tight, shoulders rigid, he shakes his head, stalking around the kitchen before reaching for a beer in the refrigerator and slamming it shut.
All of the glass rattles.
Whoa. I’m not expecting his fierce tone or the anger radiating off him right now, especially after how Allison spoke to him on Sunday.
With a loud smack to the bottleneck of the beer to the edge of the counter, Ethan pops off the metal lid, which rolls around on the floor.
Although the bartender in me is impressed, the haunted expression that flashes on his face before he gazes out the kitchen window tugs at my heart.
I clear my throat. “Do you, uh, do you guys need some privacy? I can head to my sister’s house if you want.”
Logan glances at his brother, who takes a long pull before shaking his head.
“It’s fine, Tori. You don’t have to go.” Ethan sits across the table with a beleaguered sigh.
You don’t have to go.
Not I want you to stay.
For the next few minutes, I analyze those words. Arrange them in my head, pull them apart, and rearrange them, but no matter how I look at what he just said, his apathy came through loud and clear.
I like to think I’m not the kind of girl to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but a part of me wonders if Ethan and I are over. If whatever toll today took on him smothered his interest in me.
The guys talk quietly and debate their finances and how they’re going to repay Allison, while I sit and stare at the tiny scratches on the kitchen table. Internally, I chide myself over the sadness welling up in me. I get this is just a crush, that there’s no way what’s going on with Ethan could be more at this point, but I was so ready to welcome more, and he’s likely nowhere near that.
With a deep breath, I steel myself and return to the stew bubbling on the stove. I’m so in my head, I don’t notice the guys have gotten up until Ethan’s voice, low and gruff, calls to me.
I turn to find him a step away.
After a quick glance around the room, I realize we’re alone.
I take in his loosened tie and how his broad shoulders fill in his button-down shirt. Since he got home, he’s taken off his suit jacket, and now his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, revealing tanned forearms and smooth, muscled skin.
“You clean up well,” I whisper, needing to break the silence.
“Come here.”
It’s two simple words, but a sentiment I needed to hear badly.
I’m in his arms a second later, closing my eyes and breathing in his clean scent as he presses a kiss to my forehead. The relief in my chest is palpable, like the air in a balloon being let out.
“Sorry I was an asshole,” he says into my hair. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. You’ve been nothing but sweet and amazing.”
Blinking back furiously against the heat stinging my eyes, I take a steadying breath because I don’t want to cry on his shoulder. He’s the one who’s had a hellish day, and I want to be strong for him.
He feels so good in my arms. Sturdy and warm.
I have no idea when this man dug through the defenses I spent the last year building, but he’s burrowed into me now, and I suspect nothing short of open-heart surgery can remove him. Foolish though it may be to have such intense emotions for someone I met this summer, I can’t bring myself to shut him out.
Once my tears are on lockdown, I pull back so I can look at his handsome face. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could take away the pain.” Reflexively, I place my hand on his chest, like my touch can somehow heal him. Because it has to suck to go through a divorce. Because as much as I adore Ethan and hope that he can be mine someday, I hate that Allison must’ve broken his heart.
Before he can say anything, I move my hand to caress his stubbled jaw. I know he said he needs time to deal with his divorce, but I can’t help but touch him. “Do you need some ice cream therapy?”
He cracks a smile and nestles me back against his body. “I need some Tori therapy.”
Best thing I’ve heard all day.
