Chapter Eight
Leo
“You look exhausted.” Gideon gave me a once-over. “We could’ve kept the kids until tomorrow morning.”
He would have. I’d known that. But the past five days had been the longest I’d ever been away from them. Pictures just weren’t enough. “Thanks, but I need to see them. I’m okay.”
“If you say so.” No censure or condemnation. Just the concern he always exuded when he worried about me. Memories of that flooded me—tinged with a bit of regret for what I’d lost when I sent him away and then insisted on a divorce.
“I got called in to assist with a heart transplant in New West yesterday. Things went sideways, and although the patient survived, there’s no guarantee she’s going to make it.”
“If she doesn't, it won’t be because of anything you did or didn’t do.”
I arched an eyebrow. “That’s quite a statement.”
“Leo, I know you. You did your very best. Shit happens.” He glanced around the entryway of the massive house he shared with Archer and the kids.
No little ears in sight.
“Archer’s helping them pack a bag. I know they have everything they need at your place, but a favorite stuffy won’t go amiss. And we helped them pick out a favorite picture of the five of us with frames so they can put them in their bedrooms. I hope that’s okay.”
“Five?” I frowned. “Did you have another child when I wasn’t paying attention?”
Gideon laughed. “Uh, no. Archer and I have decided two is plenty. I meant Lucky.”
As if on cue, the black lab sauntered into the room. He approached me with way too much enthusiasm. Oh well, I can always wash my hands. “Hey boy, are you taking care of my babies?”
He cocked his head.
“Melodie and Trevor?”
I’d have sworn to God he smiled—if dogs could smile. What he did do was woof and rub his snout against my hand.
Gideon grinned. “He’s a great dog. You never know how it’ll go with rescues. He was skittish at first, but then he opened up, and now he’s everyone’s best buddy.”
The words brought a pang to my chest. We’d discussed getting a dog—once my practice was settled, and the kids were a bit older. Another experience Gideon was providing them that I couldn’t.
“Oh, the kids haven’t eaten dessert. No big deal if you don’t have something—”
“I have their favorite ice cream.”
His light-brown eyes softened. “That’s great.”
“Papa!” Melodie tore across the space.
I dropped to my haunches to catch her.
Gideon had a hand at my back to ensure I didn’t topple over. Sometimes, I forgot what an exuberant Melodie could be like.
Trevor was hot on her heels and he curled against me. “Missed you.”
“I know.” Which really hurt to say.
“We worried you weren’t coming back.” Melodie whispered the words. “But Daddy and Archer swore you were.”
I blinked back the tears. That’s on you. Because you took Gideon away from them for almost two years.
“Papa will always come back.” Gideon met my gaze with his fathomless light-brown eyes. “He loves you very much.”
“Daddy’s right, I really do.” I barely had the words out before Lucky wormed his way between the two kids.
Archer clicked his tongue.
Lucky swiped his against my cheek before backing up.
“Oh dear.” Gideon winced.
“All good. I was planning to wash my face before bed anyway.” I’d showered after work and then raced over here. I still hadn’t eaten.
“Oh.” Archer held up a finger, took off, and was back a moment later with a food container. “We made too much. It’s just a little something.”
I held his gaze. He had the most amazing dark-gray eyes that conveyed obvious concern. I must look like shit. God knew, I felt like it.
He put the container in a cloth bag and then tucked it next to the kids’ backpacks.
“Papa, can we bring Lucky home?” Melodie met my gaze.
“Lucky will miss you, but this is his home.” Gideon petted his dog. “You’re back on Sunday night, and you can cuddle with him then.”
“He’ll miss us.” Trevor stuck out his lower lip.
“We’ll miss you too.” Archer moved to Gideon’s side. “But Sunday will be here soon. You need to spend time with your papa.”
Slowly, the kids nodded.
Why does this have to be so hard?
Because I’d made it this way. And I’d have to live with that decision for the rest of my life. Too much had happened between Gideon and me to ever make our way back to each other—but seeing him with Archer hurt. I’d never fathomed that he would move on first.
Gideon clapped his hands. “Coats, hugs, and then you need to be on your way. Papa needs to eat, and you need to settle in before bedtime stories.”
I didn’t need the reminder of the nighttime ritual.
I hadn’t always been home—but Gideon had.
Despite his reading issues, he read to the kids every single night.
No matter how bad his pain—he made the effort.
When I’d taken over after he left, I’d done my best. The rest had been left up to our nanny.
A nice young woman who, although she clearly cared for the children, hadn’t been their true parent.
“Yay. Stories.” Melodie released me and took her coat from Archer.
“Yeah.” Trevor, with clear reluctance, pulled back and took his from his soon-to-be stepfather as well.
I hadn’t asked if the men had set a date. Or even if things were official. They’d do things in their own time and at their own pace.
My job was to be as supportive as possible. We’d agreed no rancor. As far as I’d seen, Gideon and Archer had lived up to their end of the bargain. I couldn’t find they’d said anything negative about me to the kids.
I straightened. “We have everything?”
Archer crouched. “Quick hugs?”
Both kids went into his arms and then, in turn, wrapped their arms around Gideon’s waist.
I wasn’t so selfish as to notice that he was stiff and clearly unable to bend today. I almost asked him about it but, at the last minute, checked the impulse. His physical well-being was no longer my responsibility. If he needed something from me, he damn well knew he could ask for it.
Really? After all the times you downplayed his suffering?
I told my inner voice to shut the fuck up. I’d pay for that arrogance and lack of empathy for the rest of my life. Beating myself up wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “Sunday night.” I held out my hands.
Both kids shoved their feet into winter boots, grabbed their backpacks, and then took my hands.
Archer wrapped an arm around Gideon. My ex-husband was shorter than both me and his fiancé.
He’d always felt smaller in my arms—even though, back then, he’d had plenty of bulk.
Working in the physical job as longshoreman had given him plenty of muscles.
And had also been his downfall after a work accident.
Melodie opened the front door, and we three headed out. The kids knew the routine, and soon I had them secure in their car seats.
I waved to the men before hopping into the front seat.
“I’m going to miss Daddy.” Melodie’s soft words tore at my heart.
“Me too.” Trevor sighed.
“Daddy said you haven’t had dessert yet.”
“Nope.” Melodie popped the p.
“Well, I might have something special for you.”
Melodie squealed as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. She chatted the entire three-minute drive to our home. Sure, there’d been quite a few homes for sale in the area—and I hadn’t been obliged to buy this close to Gideon.
Except the house and yard were kid-friendly. More importantly, on nights like tonight, I was glad the drive was a mere five minutes.
We unloaded just as the first few flakes of snow fell.
Damn. Didn’t check the weather forecast. At least I don’t have anywhere to be.
Inside, I coaxed both kids to take their backpacks to their rooms and to change into their pajamas.
After shedding my coat, I examined the container.
Roast beef, asparagus, mashed potatoes, and a boatload of gravy.
My favorite.
Tears pricked my eyes. The men could’ve made anything for dinner—but they’d picked a meal they’d known I’d enjoy. Would appreciate.
“Papa!” Melodie bounced into the room, Trevor hard on her heels. Both wore their matching unicorn pajamas. I’d bought them at Christmas with the hope the kids wouldn’t outgrow them too quickly. They truly were adorable.
“Banana split?”
Trevor’s eyes lit with pure joy. “My favorite!”
“Yep. I bought the bananas yesterday.” I pulled out all the fixings.
The kids sat on the stools at the kitchen island to watch me prepare their favorite dessert. My adding the whipped cream and the maraschino cherry with a flourish brought smiles to their faces.
While they ate, I heated up the savory food and consumed it at a pace to keep up with the kids. By the end, my belly was full, and the kids had chocolate smeared on their faces. “Let me take a picture to send to Daddy and Archer.” I snagged my phone.
“And Lucky?” Melodie met my gaze with her fathomless blue eyes.
“Yes, and Lucky.” I snapped a picture and texted it to Gideon, ensuring that I expressed that the photo was for the dog as well. From our earliest days with the children, I’d sworn to never lie to them.
A fool’s errand—but I did my best to keep that promise.
A moment later, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
I held the phone for Melodie and Trevor to see.
A very dejected Lucky sat on the couch and looked mournfully into the camera.
My first instinct was annoyance—if the kids thought the dog was missing them, they might insist on being taken back. Another commitment I’d made was, whenever possible, to be flexible. I wasn’t ever going to make them choose.
“Lucky looks sad.” Melodie bit her lower lip.
“And he’ll be happy on Sunday when you go back.” I put the phone on the counter, wet a washcloth, and set about cleaning faces. “Okay—brush your teeth and go into Trevor’s room. I’ll read you a story.”
“Three?” Melodie batted her eyelashes.
“One.”
“Two?” This time, Trevor spoke up.
“Depends how long they are.” I might’ve been exhausted, but I’d give the kids at least fifteen minutes.
“Yay.” Melodie grinned.
“Brush your teeth.” I gestured toward the back of the house where the bedrooms were.
I’d opted for a rancher with a walkout basement.
The selling feature really was the yard—almost three acres.
Mostly wooded, thank God, so I didn’t have to worry about maintenance.
The house was older and could do with some modernizing, but it fit the budget of a surgeon who had barely finished paying off his student loans and had managed to scrape together the down payment.
When we’d sold the townhouse in Surrey, Gideon had told me he didn’t need his share.
After witnessing Archer’s quiet wealth, I understood why he said that. Plus, he owned the cabin left to him by his beloved grandfather.
I wasn’t selfish enough to take the money. We’d contributed equally to the townhouse and rightfully half of the small proceeds were his. He’d said something about putting the money away for university funds for the kids. I didn’t have a problem with that.
Wearily, I put all the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped the counter. Then I headed to the bathroom to find Melodie industriously brushing while Trevor struggled. Understandable, given he was only four.
“Let me help?”
He nodded.
Relief flooded me. Sometimes he’d get super stubborn and refuse my help. Tonight, though, he appeared grateful for it.
Within ten minutes, everyone was ready for bed.
I lay in the middle of Trevor’s bed, propped against the headboard. With each child tucked against me, I began reading.
By the third story, the kids were out cold.
I extricated myself from Trevor’s grasp, then I carried Melodie to her room and tucked her into bed.
She was nearly seven years old, and soon I wouldn’t be able to carry her like this.
That thought gave my heart a knock. As much as I understood that kids had to grow up, I much preferred if they’d just stay small for the rest of their lives.
Somehow, irrationally, I believed I could protect them if they just remained tiny.
After doing everything I had to—and almost falling asleep while brushing my teeth—I climbed into bed.
Barely seven-thirty, and the kids would be down for at least ten hours.
Both played hard, dropped quickly, and stayed down.
We’d endured two Trevor nightmares since moving in, so I’d take that for a win.
Sleep wasn’t coming.
Being aware of sleep hygiene, I didn’t keep a television in my bedroom. I could go out to the living room, of course. With the kids’ doors closed, they weren’t likely to wake up.
Too fucking much effort.
I checked my phone to find a text from Gideon.
—Thank you for sending that. —
Then another text.
—Thank you for being a good man. —
Jesus.
Like that didn’t pierce my heart. I kept him away from our kids for nearly two years.
How he hadn’t broken in that time, I couldn’t be certain.
I was one-hundred percent sure I would have.
Yet he’d soldiered on and fought to improve.
He attributed much of that to Archer. Perhaps that was true—to an extent—but if he hadn’t wanted to make strides with his physical and emotional well-being, then no one could’ve made him do it.
Which made him a better man than me. Certainly more compassionate and forgiving.
—I’m sorry. —
I blinked. I had a million more things I wanted to say, but that’s all I could manage.
Then, before I could think better of it, I pulled up the contact I’d entered at the beginning of the week. The one I’d been asked to delete…but hadn’t.
—Are you awake? —
Ten seconds later, my phone rang.