Chapter 24 #2
She turns to Theo, and her expression softens into something wistful and complicated that makes me want to look away.
“It was really good talking to you tonight,” she says, her voice warm in a way that feels too intimate for a conversation between co-parents.
“I’ll text you about the schedule for next week. ”
She reaches out and squeezes his arm, a gesture that’s friendly on the surface but lasts just slightly too long.
I watch it happen. Watch the familiarity of the touch, the ease with which she reaches for him. And I don’t love it. But I stay quiet, keep my expression neutral, because this isn’t the moment to make a scene. It isn’t the time to let my insecurities show.
“You too, Victoria,” Theo says, offering her a polite smile. “Drive safe.”
“Great to see you both,” Victoria says with a final smile, and then she’s walking past us toward the door, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor in a rhythm that sounds almost triumphant.
The door closes behind her, and Theo and I look at each other. I can see him processing. I can see him trying to figure out what I’m thinking, what I need from him in this moment.
“That was a surprise,” I say finally, breaking the silence because someone has to.
“I know.” He leans back against the bar like he needs the support, running a hand through his hair. “She just showed up. Didn’t tell me she was coming, didn’t text or call. Just walked in while I was doing paperwork and said she wanted to talk.”
“What were you talking about?” I ask, keeping my voice casual even though my heart is beating faster than it should be.
Even though I can still see the image of them sitting close together at that bar, Victoria’s hand on his arm, their faces serious and intent. “When I walked in, it looked intense.”
Theo sighs, and I watch him gather his thoughts, organize them into something he can explain.
“A lot of things,” he says after a moment.
“She apologized for being mean to you at pickup, which you just heard.” He pauses.
“She also talked about wanting to change and be a better mom to Chloe. And like she said, she’s seriously considering moving back to the area. ”
“That’s huge,” I say, and the words feel hollow in my mouth.
“She even apologized for the affair,” Theo adds, and there’s something in his voice I can’t quite identify.
“The first time she’s ever acknowledged that what she did was wrong.
She said she regrets that she walked away from me and Chloe.
That the grass wasn’t greener I guess. She’s thinking of leaving Derek, so I think she’s just feeling remorseful after maybe getting out of his influence. ”
I nod, processing this information slowly, turning it over in my mind. Victoria apologizing for the affair and admitting she was wrong, wanting to move back and be a real mother to Chloe. Victoria maybe—definitely—still has feelings for Theo.
That last thought lodges in my chest like a splinter, sharp and impossible to ignore.
The way she looked at him tonight. The way her hand lingered on his arm.
If she talked about what she threw away, she wasn’t just talking about Chloe.
She was talking about him too, and the life they could have had if she hadn’t left.
And now she wants it back. And she’s about to be single.
I swallow hard, trying to push the thought away, trying to be rational about this.
Victoria made her choice. She left Theo for another man, broke his heart, and abandoned their daughter.
You don’t get to undo that kind of damage with one tearful apology in an empty restaurant.
You don’t get to waltz back in and reclaim what you threw away just because you’ve realized the grass wasn’t greener.
“What do you think about it?” I ask, needing to know where his head is. “Do you believe her?”
Theo is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he’s really thinking something through, not just giving a surface answer.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he says finally.
“Part of me wants to believe her. If she’s serious, if she actually follows through, it would be great for Chloe.
Having her mom around more. Feeling like Victoria actually wants to be part of her life instead of just going through the motions of visitation.
” He shakes his head slowly. “But I’ll believe it when I see it.
When she actually shows up consistently for more than a few weeks. ”
“But she seemed genuine tonight,” I say, and I hate that I’m the one pointing this out. Hate that I’m making the case for Victoria’s sincerity when every instinct in my body wants to dismiss her as a flake who’ll never change. “I think she might mean it.”
“Maybe,” Theo admits. “She did seem more genuine than I’ve seen her in years.” He looks at me, and there’s something searching in his expression, like he’s trying to figure out how I’m handling all of this. “But that doesn’t mean I trust it. It just means I’m willing to wait and see.”
I nod, trying to look supportive even though internally I’m unsettled in ways I can’t quite articulate, even to myself.
This is good news, I tell myself. If Victoria becomes a better mother, that’s good for Chloe.
If she moves back and is actually present, that’s good for Chloe.
I should be happy about this. Should be rooting for Victoria to change, because Chloe deserves a mother who shows up.
But I can’t shake the image of them at that bar. The way they looked like a unit even though they’ve been divorced for years. I can’t shake Victoria’s hand on Theo’s arm.
Theo’s eyes drop to the skates in my hand and the thermos I’m still clutching, and his expression shifts to curious, some of the heaviness lifting from his features. “What’s all this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of a smile forming.
I feel myself relax slightly, grateful for the change in subject, for something that has nothing to do with Victoria and everything to do with us.
“This feels a little silly now, but I had a surprise planned. I ran into Calvin at the grocery store a few days ago, and he mentioned that you used to be really into hockey when you were younger. That you wanted to be a professional player.”
Theo’s eyebrows rise with surprise. “He told you about that?”
“He did,” I confirm. “He said you used to live on the ice. So I found this little outdoor rink about twenty minutes from here that stays open until midnight.” I hold up the thermos.
“I made mulled wine from that Solstice House Zinfandel. Figured after the week you’ve had, you deserved something fun. ”
Theo stares at me for a moment, and then his face breaks into a wide, genuine smile, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
He reaches out and pulls me closer by the waist, looking down at me with an expression so full of warmth and wonder that it almost makes me forget the unease still churning in my stomach.
Almost.
“That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day,” he says, his voice soft. “When do we leave?”
“Right now, if you’re done here,” I tell him, managing a smile.
“Paperwork can wait until tomorrow.” He’s already moving toward the kitchen, energy restored. “Let me tell Alex I’m heading out and grab my coat.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m standing alone in the quiet restaurant, holding my skates and my thermos and trying to feel as happy as I should feel. We’re about to have a romantic adventure under the stars, exactly what I planned, exactly what I wanted.
So why can’t I shake the unease that’s settled into my bones?
The ice rink is perfect, even more magical than the photos suggested. It’s small and intimate, nestled into a clearing surrounded by towering trees, the ice gleaming under strings of white lights that crisscross overhead like a canopy of fallen stars.
There are maybe fifteen other people skating. Couples mostly, holding hands and laughing, their breath fogging in the cold air as they circle the rink in slow, easy loops, plus a few families with young kids who are clearly up past their bedtimes, but too enchanted by the lights to care.
Music plays from speakers hidden somewhere in the trees, something instrumental and wintery that makes the whole scene feel like we’ve stepped into a snow globe. Into a world where nothing exists except this moment and this place and the person beside you.
We rent skates for Theo at the little wooden booth near the entrance—the woman working there clearly charmed by his smile—and I already have mine laced up by the time he sits down on the bench beside me.
Once we step onto the ice together, I’m immediately comfortable, my body remembering the balance and the glide from all those years of skating as a kid. The lessons my parents paid for because they wanted us to be well-rounded.
It comes back to Theo quickly too. Within a few laps he’s moving with confidence, his stride lengthening, his posture straightening into something that looks almost professional. Muscle memory kicking in after all these years, his body remembering what his mind had set aside.
“You’re good at this,” I tell him, watching him take a corner with surprising grace.
“It’s been years,” he says, but he’s grinning, clearly pleased with himself, a boyish delight on his face that I don’t see often enough. “It feels good though. Better than I remembered.”
We fall into an easy rhythm, skating slow laps around the rink with my hand in his, our breath fogging in the cold air, the lights twinkling above us like we’re inside a fairy tale.
I pull out the thermos and pour us each a cup of mulled wine into the little camping mugs I brought, and we drink it while we skate, carefully, laughing when we almost spill.
The spiced warmth spreads through my chest, cutting through the chill of the night air, making everything feel softer and more golden.
Theo tells me about playing hockey as a kid. How seriously he took it, how he’d wake up before dawn for practice and never complain because he loved it that much. The dreams he had of going professional before reality and responsibility intervened.
I love hearing this side of him. The version of Theo who wanted things just for himself before he learned to put those wants aside.
“Do you miss it?” I ask, as we glide past a couple attempting a very wobbly spin together, the woman shrieking with laughter as her partner barely catches her.
“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice thoughtful.
“I miss the feeling of it, you know? The way everything else would just disappear when I was on the ice. It was the only time my brain would actually shut up.” He squeezes my hand, his fingers warm despite the cold.
“This is the first time I’ve skated in probably fifteen years. I forgot how much I loved it.”
“We should do this more often,” I say. “Make it a thing. Our thing.”
“I’d like that.” He smiles at me. “I’d really like that.”
We skate in comfortable silence for a while, the music swelling around us, the lights casting everything in a soft romantic glow.
The other skaters become background noise, pleasant but irrelevant, just shapes moving at the edges of our private world.
At some point Theo’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer as we move together, and I let myself lean into him, let myself enjoy the simple pleasure of being here with him, of having created this experience for us.
He kisses me while we’re still moving, a brief press of cold lips that warms quickly, tasting like mulled wine and winter air.
When he pulls back, he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
Like everything else—the lights, the music, the other skaters, the entire universe beyond this rink—has simply ceased to exist.
“This is one of the best surprises anyone’s ever done for me,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“Well, I try.” I smile and kiss him back, letting myself sink into the moment, and for a second everything feels right. Exactly the way I wanted it to feel. Romantic. Spontaneous. Perfect.
But there’s a dissonance in my chest that won’t go away. A static underneath the music that keeps pulling my attention somewhere I don’t want it to go.
That image of them sitting so close when I walked in.
Years of marriage, a child together, a history I’ll never fully understand no matter how many stories Theo tells me, no matter how many pieces of his past he shares.
There are parts of him that belong to that history. Parts I’ll never be able to touch.
And now Victoria’s maybe moving back and talking about change and presence and being the mother Chloe deserves. If she follows through, she’ll be everywhere. A permanent fixture in the landscape I’ve been trying to build my future in.
I picture it without meaning to. Theo and Victoria and Chloe around a dinner table, candles lit, laughter filling the room.
At Chloe’s school play, sitting together in the audience, proud parents united.
Standing together at some future graduation, a family restored, the broken pieces finally put back together.
And me? Nowhere in that picture. Because maybe I’m the thing that doesn’t fit. The complication. The obstacle standing between a little girl and the mother she needs, between two people who share a child and a history and something that might not be as finished as I thought it was.
Maybe Victoria wasn’t just being catty at pickup.
Maybe she saw something I’ve been trying not to see.
I’m the woman ten years younger stepping into something that was already complete without me.
Something that broke but might still be fixable.
Two people with history and a child and all those years of knowing each other in ways I never will.
Two people who might, if given the chance, be able to heal what they shattered. To make it work this time.
Where does that leave me?
Theo pulls me closer as we round the curve of the rink, his arm secure around my waist, the lights twinkling overhead like promises.
The music swells, something hopeful and bright, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
I lean into his warmth and smile and tell myself to stay here, in this moment with this man who loves me.
But my thoughts keep spinning, spiraling into darker corners, even as my skates glide smooth and steady across the ice.