Chapter 26
[Dart]
After our second kiss, when I snuck to the hospital and kissed Trinity during her shift break, using some lame excuse when all I really wanted to do was see her again, we had a chance encounter on Marshall’s property before it was his distillery and Savannah’s lavender field.
Trinity was just standing there, like a ray of sunshine amid all these daisies in a field. Her hair was still strawberry-blond, and she somehow blended with the blooms around her.
I plucked a daisy from the field and held up the flower.
“Reminds me of you.” Summertime and fresh meadows. Her smile bright as the white petals and golden center.
“Third time in four days, Dart River. What will the Star Gang think?” she teased.
I was there to help Marshall with something for the distillery he would eventually build. I couldn’t remember why Trinity was present.
“They say the third time is the charm.”
She laughed. “You already know you’re damn charming.”
I stepped closer to her and stroked the flower down her cheek. “Show me again how charming I am.”
Then, I cupped the back of her neck, urging her toward me. She kissed me hard and fast, knowing we might be caught. Tate and Marshall were somewhere on the property. Still, I couldn’t keep my hands or my mouth from her.
I thought sending her flowers once a year would put a smile on her face, let her know I was thinking of her. That I missed her.
She missed me? How would I know? She hadn’t answered my texts. Hadn’t returned a call.
My wife had me in a tailspin. I should have tried harder. I should have come home sooner, but I meant what I said.
She seemed happier without me.
The first time I got a glimpse of her, she hadn’t filed for divorce yet. She looked better, healthier, less sad. And I’d been a coward.
My good intentions backfired, and I didn’t know how to proceed. I didn’t know how to undo what I’d done.
I’d hurt her again. A simple gesture like flowers, meant to brighten her day, only brought another layer of sorrow.
I’m such an ass.
My anger is further fueled when I whack my thumb for the second time while building the frame for the back deck.
After tossing the hammer into the yard, I sit on the edge of the plank support and hang my head.
Building a deck isn’t a one-man job, but that isn’t what’s been on my mind the past few hours.
Trinity and I never fought. Not about the big things.
We didn’t have screaming matches or name-calling sessions, like I’d witnessed between my grandparents as the only married role models I had when I was a young boy.
I was rather proud of the fact that we didn’t argue, but it also meant we didn’t communicate sometimes. We didn’t open up enough.
I never heard Mary and Russell Haven argue either, but occasionally, I overheard some lively, contentious discussions.
Maybe a healthy level of argumentation might have been good for Trin and me.
We have a lot to work out, but being in the same vicinity is making a difference.
I’m not running off to the racetrack. She isn’t hiding out at work.
We are here, almost forced to face each other.
Even if we don’t speak, we are still in close proximity.
In my head, it sounded like the perfect plan to win her back.
But somehow, I still feel like I am losing her.
When the back door opens, I don’t look up until Trinity stands beside me and hands me a glass of lemonade.
“Thanks.” I take it from her but don’t immediately drink. Instead, I stare up at her, take in her eyes, which had been too sad too often in our last year together. Her smile had been missing. Her spirit gone.
Standing in front of me now is a woman with a glow around her. Like that perfect moment in a daisy field. She has a new strength. An easiness I haven’t seen before. A calm that’s almost frightening.
She lowers to sit beside me on the narrow edge of the plank, and I take a sip of the lemonade.
“It’s hard, right?” she begins. “Finding your way back.”
I squint toward the yard. “I’m not making it easy.”
She bumps into my shoulder. “We just need to put in the work.”
I smile weakly at her.
“Speaking of work.” She sits up straighter. “There are only so many home improvement projects around here.” She pats the frame of the deck.
A deck had always been in the plans for this space, and now I want it more than ever. A space where we can sit and watch Mirabelle run around the yard, chasing fireflies. A place for Trin and me to share a quiet moment under the stars.
Still, I scoff. “Yeah. Well, besides us, I think I’m still in a bit of a midlife crisis. The only thing I know for certain is I want to be here. With you. With Mirabelle.”
Trinity watches me, the weight of her stare on the side of my face for a second, before I finally look at her.
“Will you take Clint up on his offer? Go back to work at Haven Exteriors?”
I sigh and glance back at my lemonade. “Trin, I don’t know if you can understand this, but I don’t want a job. I want something with meaning. For me.”
“And construction didn’t do that?” she questions.
“Don’t get me wrong. I loved working with my hands. The crew was amazing. Clint and Cort are great bosses.” I’m hoping she hears what I’m afraid to put into words. “But I was just part of the crew.”
She stares at me.
“Not all of us are fortunate enough to know what we want to do with our lives from such a young age.”
“Like me?” she clarifies.
“Like you.”
Trin had an experience in high school. A friend who had a miscarriage at the young age of seventeen. It happened in the girls’ bathroom, and Trin panicked. She never wanted to feel so helpless for either mom or baby again. She always knew her path in life. Her career path. She became a nurse.
“I was always a little jealous of you.”
“Me?” she says, aghast.
“You always knew what you wanted to be. And you were so smart, so driven, dedicated to that purpose. You had a true calling.” I pause and glance at the yard again.
Even with Mirabelle, Trinity has a role, but I don’t. Not officially.
“I wasn’t so fortunate,” I say. “I’d been floating through life until you entered it.”
I glance at her, and she blinks, startled by the truth. She became my purpose. Making her happy. Being with her. But happiness can’t only be wrapped up in another person.
“Did racing do that for you? Give you purpose?”
The corner of my lip ticks. “In a sense.” But not completely. “I think I was chasing something, Trin. Looking for control over the uncontrollable.”
Us.
“I don’t think I ever thought it would be more than a way to let off steam, but then I met Max.” I wave a hand near my ear. “And he got in my head.”
Could I really do this at forty-one? Start a new career? One that took physical strength and mental awareness?
“There had been guys who raced their entire lives, but Max saw something in me.” Not much different than Trinity’s dad.
“I felt alive when I raced.” I didn’t feel like such a loser.
I squint toward the yard again. “But I never wanted to do it alone, Trin. I wanted you there beside me, which made me selfish. In hindsight, I see that more clearly. I asked you to move to give us a fresh start, but that start would have only been about me.”
A new career. A new direction.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she says.
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
We sit in the quiet that follows, the summer breeze blowing around us. So many apologies lately.
“Speaking of work,” she says again, and sighs, slapping her hands on her thighs. She’s wearing jean shorts and a T-shirt. “I go back next week.”
“Already?” I perk up. I knew she’d be going back, it just hasn’t seemed like six weeks have passed.
“Monday.” She looks back at me. “I need to organize childcare.” Her head dips. “I’m not ready to leave her, though.”
“You aren’t leaving her, baby.” I set my hand on her lower back. “You’re providing for her.”
I want to provide for them. And sitting around here finding home improvement projects isn’t the way to go about it. Trin is right, there are only so many things I can fix or build. I need to start thinking about an income.
I’m being frugal with my race savings, but it won’t last forever.
“Still, I feel funny about leaving her with a stranger.”
“Let me do it.” The thought pops out of nowhere, and yet, somehow, I think it was more present than I realized.
I reach for her hand, covering it with mine, shifting to face her better.
I want to be here for Trin and Mirabelle. And if that means an easier transition for Trin by staying with Mirabelle while she goes back to work, I want to do that for her. For them.
Trinity’s head whips upward, her expression shocked.
“I’m already here.” I squeeze her hand to reassure her. “And I love spending time with Mirabelle.”
“Dart,” she groans, chuckling like I’m joking, but she flips her hand, and now I’m holding it. Our fingers entwine.
“I can do this.” The more I think about it, the more I mean it. More I want it. I might not be Mirabelle’s dad, but I love her. I want to be with her. “I’m already changing diapers and feeding her. Mirabelle is easy, and on the days she’s not, we’ll take field trips.”
“Like where?” Trinity stares at me, still disbelieving my offer.
“I don’t know.” My voice rises along with my other hand waving through the air. The rise could also be excitement. I clutch her hand harder. “I’ll figure it out. You yourself are constantly saying parenting doesn’t come with a manual.”
Her coffee-colored eyes are bright and wide.
I clear my throat. “Not that I’m saying I’m Mirabelle’s dad or anything.”
I swallow thickly because I can’t say that. I can’t put a label on me that Trin hasn’t given me. But I want that label. I want it more than I’ll admit, because I don’t want to pressure Trin. We’re still trying to work out who we are as a couple.
“But I can do this for you.” Do this for our family. “Let me be here for both of you.”
Trinity continues to watch me, gauging my sincerity. Her eyes soften from my enthusiasm. Her shoulders relax.
“I do only work three days a week.” She pauses, considering.
I recall her schedule. Three twelve-hour shifts within seven days.
“I don’t know,” she repeats more quietly.
I lift her hand, still entwined with mine, and kiss her knuckles in a silent plea. “Consider it, Trin. Really think about it.” Please trust me. I’m here for you. Both my girls.
A squawk comes from Trinity’s phone, and she checks the monitor.
“Duty calls.” She waves it in the air and gives me a smile. A bright, genuine one that says Mirabelle is pure joy.
Like a field of daisies in sunshine.
She tugs her hand free from mine, but then she cups my jaw. The touch tender. Her eyes sweet.
And it’s only after Trinity gets up and heads back into the house that I recall what she said.
We need to put in the work.
She said we, and I’m more determined than ever to make it happen for us.