Chapter Thirty-Nine - James
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
James
The savory scent of chicken and garlic hit James the moment he stepped through the door, warm and inviting. His stomach growled, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
He shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the hook, and toed off his shoes, listening to the sounds of life from the kitchen—the clinking of plates, the murmur of conversation, Lily’s unmistakable giggle. It was the sound of home, but it didn’t feel like it used to.
The letter he’d left for Kate weighed heavy on his mind. He’d poured everything into it—his accountability, his remorse, his love—and then left it in her hands, terrified of what she might think, of what she might feel. He ran a hand over his face, steeling himself as he walked toward the dining room.
Noah was already seated, scrolling on his phone, pretending not to be paying attention but undoubtedly taking in every word. Lily was bouncing slightly in her chair, trying to decide between mashed potatoes and peas. Kate was setting the final dish on the table, her movements efficient but calm, her face unreadable.
She glanced up as he entered, and their eyes met. For a brief moment, his heart leapt, hoping for some clue, some flicker of how she felt about the letter. But her expression was soft, steady—impossible to read.
“You’re just in time,” she said simply, gesturing to the chair at the head of the table.
James swallowed, nodding as he slid into his seat. He noticed the subtle details immediately—the plates already set, the food still steaming. She’d timed dinner for his arrival.
His chest ached. It was such a small gesture, but it felt monumental. Was this just the polite routine of a co-parent, ensuring the children didn’t notice the tension between them? Or was it something else?
He didn’t know.
It felt like he lived in two timelines at once.
In one, he was here with her—basking in her warmth, in the glow of her presence, sharing the life they had built. But he wasn’t really hers. He was a guest in her world, allowed to co-parent their children, to sit at the same table, to watch her from a distance. But not to touch. Not to love.
In the other, he was her husband again, for real. Her partner in every sense. In that timeline, he could reach for her hand across the table, lean over to kiss her cheek, make her laugh the way he used to.
Both timelines played out in his mind as he picked up his fork and dug into his food, the weight of her gaze lingering on him like a whisper he couldn’t quite hear.
“Dad, can I have the last drumstick?” Lily’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
James smiled faintly and nodded. “Of course, Lils. It’s all yours.”
She beamed, reaching for it with sticky fingers and immediately launching into a story about her day at school. Noah mumbled something about homework being unfair, and Kate responded with a soft chuckle, the sound so familiar it made James’s throat tighten.
He glanced at her, sitting just to his right, her hair tucked behind her ear as she listened to Lily ramble. She looked beautiful, as always—serene in a way that belied the turmoil he knew she still carried.
Does this mean she’s letting me in again?
He had no idea which timeline he was in now, and it was killing him.
The conversation swirled around him, but he was too distracted to focus on the words. Instead, he found himself studying Kate, noticing the subtle changes in her over the months. She seemed more guarded, yes, but there was also a quiet strength in her that hadn’t been there before.
He thought about the letter again, the way he had laid himself bare in it, trying to explain everything he’d failed to articulate in the past. He wanted her to know that he saw her, that he valued her, that he would spend the rest of his life making up for what he’d done if she let him.
But had it been enough? Would it ever be enough?
“James?”
Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he realized she was looking at him, her brow slightly furrowed.
“Hmm?”
“You okay?” she asked softly, her tone laced with quiet concern.
He nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just a long day. Happy to be home.”
She didn’t press, but there was something in her expression that made his chest ache.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of small talk and laughter, the kind that felt normal and yet so fragile. James found himself clinging to every moment, every word, every smile, as though it might be the last time he’d get to experience this version of their life.
When the plates were cleared and the kids wandered off to the living room, James stayed behind to help Kate load the dishwasher. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, a reminder of how much had changed and how much still remained the same.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said quietly, placing the last plate on the rack.
Kate glanced at him, her expression soft but unreadable once again. “You’re welcome.”
He hesitated, wanting to say more, wanting to ask if she’d read the letter, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he stood there, feeling the weight of two possible futures pressing down on him.
As she wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to leave, James found himself staring after her, his heart caught in the liminal space between hope and despair.
He didn’t know what timeline he was in. But for now, he would hold onto this moment—this fragile, fleeting moment—and pray it was leading him to the right one.