CHAPTER TWO
MADDIE
“M ommy! Mommy!”
Grace, my blonde bundle of joy, rushed toward me as I pushed through the front door of my parents’ house in east Louisville. I opened my arms to receive my daughter, coming down to my knees to give her a big hug.
This is how it went every day.
Say goodbye to her, practically in tears, around seven-thirty at the door of the preschool she attended, then see her beaming face first thing after work. Thankfully my mom was able to pick her up on days that I had to stay late at school, like today.
I had to thank my parents for a lot these days.
“I really missed you, Mommy.” Her lisped words made my heart melt as our long hug went even longer. Tears pricked my eyes. How was I so lucky to have such a beautiful child? A child who loved me unreservedly, despite the ways I felt I’d failed her as her mother.
I tried not to let the dark thoughts swoop in. I’d been living with my parents for over a year since filing for divorce from Jericho. Removing him from Grace’s daily life was a good thing. I tried to remind myself of this when I got too down on myself for being a divorcee raising a child in her parents’ home.
“I missed you too, pumpkin.” I kissed the top of Grace’s head, finally releasing her from the hug. When I stood, Grace beamed up at me and reached for my hand. “What do you think we should have for dinner tonight?”
Grace loved to help plan dinner. In fact, she was my right-hand girl in all areas of life, from selecting my outfits to prepping meals to organizing the craft area. That didn’t mean she was aways helpful , of course, but she loved to try. And despite all the pain and uncertainty that my separation from her father had brought to our lives, part of me felt that I was living in paradise at the same time.
For the first time in a long time, I knew what freedom tasted like.
Even if I wasn’t fully free from Jericho yet, I was so close.
All he needed to do was sign the divorce papers, and that chapter of my life would be done. Per Kentucky law, we had to be separated for a full year before the formal divorce could go through. And we’d hit that milestone late last year. Jericho always had an excuse for why he hadn’t finished his side of things. Logistically, it was simple, but Jericho was dragging his heels. I suspected it had to do with his not wanting to hash out a custody agreement or the division of our marital assets. At least, that was what my lawyer said. It was extra frustrating when we were so close to the finish line. Still, I chose to focus on the positives.
“I think we make sketti,” she said, accompanying me through the house as I dropped my tote bags from my day at the local elementary school, where I taught first grade. Luckily, even though Jericho had forced me to be a stay at home mom, it hadn’t been too hard to reactivate my teaching license and get back into the swing of things once I left him. I’d missed it more than I ever let myself realize during the hellish five years at that man’s side.
The only good things to come of those years? Grace. And my sister-in-law Mercedes.
Even after Jericho signed these dang papers and I was free of the Hendricks name, Mercedes would remain my soul sister.
In the kitchen, I found my mom chopping vegetables for a snack tray. Her gray-blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her face lit up when she saw me.
“Hello, dear! You’re just in time for party prep.”
I smiled as we hugged. Having a soft place to land—at mom and dad’s house—after the separation was something I thanked them for every day. Their penchant for casual get-togethers helped me feel like life had direction and purpose, especially in those early months when I’d been so adrift and confused.
“Where’s the party tonight?” I checked my phone as Grace danced around us with excitement. It was almost six. My dad walked into the kitchen, humming to himself with some sort of air filter in his hand. One of the many random Dad Tasks he filled his evenings with. He paused to kiss the top of my head and continued on his way.
“We’re heading to Jerry and Susan’s house,” she said, crunching into a baby carrot. “And I’ve already got Grace on board, because their little granddaughter June is coming to play tonight.”
Grace squealed with excitement. “I want to play with June!”
I smiled down at her, relishing her enthusiasm. Her toothy grin. The way she twirled her lavender skirt, which I could barely get her out of, she loved it so much. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I could handle her being any cuter.
But going to Jerry and Susan’s house tonight was not exactly what I wanted to do. After the long work week, I was dying for some quiet time in the bath.
“When are you heading over?” I reached for a broccoli floret.
She looked at her wristwatch, then resumed cutting. “In about twenty minutes.”
“Oh jeez.” I sighed, trying to imagine if I could scrounge up any energy for more socialization. After wrangling six- and seven-year-olds all day, plus finishing up all my work so I could fully clock out this weekend, I wasn’t sure I could do much more than change out of work clothes and vegetate.
“I know what that sigh means,” my mom said, waving the knife in my direction. “And I’ll be honest—I won’t be mad if you don’t go.”
My shoulders slumped, an unexpected weight releasing from them. “You won’t?”
“I think you should have a night to yourself. It’s Friday. Go see a movie or something.”
I grabbed a slice of bell pepper and dipped it into the ranch dressing she’d just opened. “By myself?”
“You’re in your independent woman era. Didn’t you just tell me that the other day?”
“Well, yeah…” I munched thoughtfully, running my fingers through Grace’s silky blonde tresses. “I guess there are a few frontiers I haven’t explored yet.”
“You can go to the movies by yourself. Go shopping by yourself. Heck, you can even go out for dinner by yourself!” The knife thwacked against the cutting board as she cut into the final head of broccoli.
“We having sketti?” Grace asked, looking up at me. I cupped her heart-shaped face in my hands and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Well, it sounds like you and Grandma have plans.” As I spoke, I began to visualize what I might most enjoy for tonight. I thought it had been a bath, but now I was seeing something else: slightly upscale restaurant. Sitting at the bar by myself. Maybe even reading a book at the bar. A thrill of excitement raced up my spine. My plan was cemented. “You’re going to go play with June, and I bet they’ll have some yummy dinner over there.”
“Burgers,” Mom said.
“With cheese?” Grace asked.
“All the cheese you could ask for,” she confirmed with a final thwack.
The knife was the signal. Our Friday evenings were set, and mine looked a lot more exciting than I’d originally planned. I ran up to my room to get changed. This felt like a date night with myself, which was appropriate, given the transformation I’d undergone over the last year and few months.
I’d spent the first six months post-separation in transition mode: move out of the house I’d shared with Jericho; figure out how to renew my teaching license; start the job hunt; begin a new life under my parents’ roof while saving up for a down payment. The last nine months had been more about starting to relax a little. Settling in. Navigating my way out of “married” status.
Things were going well—at least, as well as I could hope for.
Maybe tonight you’ll even see a cute guy or two.
Something strange pinged inside me. It felt like longing, a deep, core-shaking kind. My mind instantly flitted to Troy, the man I’d met during my holiday trip to New York City. Grace and I had gone to visit Mercedes and Willow and Trace—and by extension, the entire Fairchild clan—and met a man I still couldn’t forget.
I smiled to myself as I shed my dark slacks and puffy, cream sweater. Troy and I had only shared one long evening together at the Fairchild Christmas party a few weeks ago. It had been full of happy conversation, Willow and Grace chasing each other around the apartment, and such top-tier catering that I still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the filet mignon. Everyone else called him Trojan there, but when I tried to do the same, he stopped me. “I like it better when you call me by my real name,” he’d said, and just remembering the rough scrape of his voice could still knock the wind out of me.
I thought about that man far too often to be considered sane. Maybe this was just the lonely life of a divorcee now. I bit at my bottom lip, recalling the tiny details I’d loved most about him: the scruff on his jawline, the heat that had poured off of him, the way he’d felt so strong and secure next to me. He was like a handsome bear, and from the second I’d met him, I wanted more of him.
But you won’t get more. He’s in New York, and you’re here. Besides, what would he want with a single mom?
I frowned as I reached for a pair of jeans, shimmying into them before checking the fit in the stand-up mirror. I remembered suddenly I hadn’t checked my phone in awhile. I fished it out of my purse, the screen lighting up with missed messages.
JERICHO: So are you planning on coming by with Grace anytime soon?
JERICHO: You could at least answer me.
JERICHO: Do you have to be such a bitch?
JERICHO: Forget it. Don’t bring her over. But you and I need to square some things away right now.
Any good mood I’d cobbled together fell away. Jericho had a bad habit of being a completely unpredictable co-parent. He’d disappear for two full weeks, and then show up demanding a full weekend with Grace. That wasn’t happening on my watch. Not when he’d been growing increasingly agitated by the smallest things.
I drew a deep breath, looking through my clothes in the closet. I needed something with long sleeves, thanks to Jericho. My forearm still throbbed from my visit earlier that week. I’d taken Grace to visit him and his parents at their house—a neutral area, or so I’d thought. Jericho had gotten so agitated about the divorce papers yet again that he’d yanked on my arm as I tried to hurry out the door, bringing me crashing into him, nearly clipping my chin on the doorway. Grace hadn’t seen it, thank God. But the bruises he left behind were more than visible. And I didn’t want anyone to see them.
Not Grace. Not my parents. Not even myself.
They were just a reminder of a phase of life I wanted behind me.
I opted for a loose fitting boho shirt with long, wide sleeves and a V-neck. Feminine but modest. I gathered my purse and a new paperback, and set off for the kitchen to say goodbye to Grace and my parents. Once I was out the door, snug in my puffy winter coat, the crisp winter air gave me a surge of energy.
This was my night out. Who knew what fun I might find? I headed for a trendy-looking bar and restaurant I found from a quick internet search. Someplace new and hip. Perfect for a single mom like me trying to begin the next chapter of her life. I sang to myself as I blasted Taylor Swift on my drive downtown, trying to ignore the way my phone kept lighting up with incoming texts.
JERICHO: Do you not know how to use a phone?
JERICHO: Wow. Just went to your parents’ house and nobody’s home.
JERICHO: Are you trying to keep my daughter from me? Answer me.
I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, my stomach doing flips. I didn’t know why Jericho wouldn’t just let me go. Custodial arrangements for Grace was one thing; this weird control he kept trying to exert over me was entirely different. I stuck to my guns when this sort of thing cropped up, enforcing boundaries I’d never had while we were married. But something behind his texts tonight had me worried.
Just go enjoy your night. Don’t think about him anymore.
I hurried through the car-cluttered parking lot, pushing into the warm, fragrant air of the trendy brewpub. A hostess led me to a seat at the bar per my request, and as I slid onto the barstool, I received an image from Mercedes showcasing a gourmet dish with squirts of lavender and green on the edges of the plate…and not much else.
MADDIE: Wow that looks fancy. Is that what they’re calling dinner for two these days?
MERCEDES: Trace’s non-profit is hosting a gala and this is the appetizer. I’m about to lick the plate. Pregnant and starving.
MADDIE: Don’t be uncouth. Get a very dainty spoon.
I snapped a picture of the bar and sent it to her.
MADDIE: I’ll be ordering my dinner from here soon.
MERCEDES: I’m glad you’re out doing something. Has everything been okay? Be honest.
MADDIE: Your brother is making things hard. He won’t stop texting today.
MERCEDES: Where are you?
MADDIE: Some new place called Espuma. It’s a girls’ night out for one. I’m trying something you’d approve of: reading at the bar.
MERCEDES: Sounds fun. I’d totally read at the bar next to you. How long do you plan on staying?
I frowned down at my phone. Her questions about my location were odd, but maybe she was making a joke. Ever since she’d started dating Trace Fairchild, she’d become a type of bon vivant who wasn’t afraid to take his private jet across the country for the right reason, but flying out to join me seemed a little impractical.
MADDIE: I just got here. Are you going to surprise me for my solo girl’s night?
MERCEDES: Surprise, yes. Me? No.
She wouldn’t give up more information despite my repeated texts, but I didn’t have long to wonder. The bartender approached for my drink and food order, which I gave him—pinot grigio, a basket of bread with olive oil dip, salmon with rice. I pulled my paperback out of my purse once he’d hurried away to the next customer, intent on fulfilling this fantasy of reading at a bar.
I was barely two pages in when the energy crackled. Hairs on my forearms stood up, and I set down my book, looking around. The restaurant was raucous and busy, but despite all the moving bodies and loud chatter, something snagged my attention from across the room.
Dark chestnut hair, long enough to run your fingers through. Broad shoulders, almost like boulders, stretching a dark coat to its limits. His brown eyes surveyed the restaurant methodically until they landed on me. Warmth spread through me.
Troy.
A smile curled his lips. I lifted my hand, unsure if I was imagining him. The only thing that kept me from acting as though this was a hallucination was the fact that Mercedes had told me I’d be surprised.
This was beyond surprise.
This was a dream come true.
“Troy?” I couldn’t contain the shocked laughter that cascaded out of me as he crossed the space between us in powerful steps. When he reached my side, he towered over me. I held out my arms for a hug.
“Maddie. Good to see you.” His deep voice at my ear was like a salve. My eyes fluttered shut as he pulled me into a warm, healing hug that smelled like cedar and man. A satisfied hum escaped me, and I lingered in his embrace for a few moments too long. He made it hard to want to disconnect.
“Oh, gosh. You too,” I said once he finally released me. I wobbled back into my seat at the bar, and he slid into the empty seat next to me. Was this really happening? “What are you doing here?”
His jaw flexed as he faced me at the bar, his jean-clad knees knocking mine. A mischievous grin tugged at his perfect lips. “Just passing through. Thought I’d say hi.”
“You talked to Mercedes about this, didn’t you?” I pushed my paperback away, opting instead for a sip of the wine that had just arrived.
“Maybe.” He tipped his head, that same warmth and familiarity from the Christmas party returning in full force. It was like no time at all had passed. “How you been?”
Three simple words that opened up a flood gate of emotion. I drew a shaky breath, not sure where to begin. “Is it possible to say both ‘I’ve been better’ and ‘This is the best time of my life’?”
“You can say whatever you want to, and I’ll believe it.”
His simple words landed like a hammer. Paired with the mischief curling at his lips and the scent of him infiltrating my senses, I felt like I was falling head first into the abyss. I’d wanted Troy from the second I laid eyes on him, and here he was. Right in front of me.
Where will this lead us?
“I’m not sure you should give me so much power,” I teased Troy, setting my glass of wine back on the bar. “There could be consequences.”
His gaze darkened slightly, and he wet his bottom lip as he leaned imperceptibly closer. “I think I’m ready to handle them.”
I rolled my lips inward, trying to stave off the girlish giggles that threatened to spill out of me. Was this real life? I’d been thinking of this man non-stop for the past three weeks. I toyed with the stem of my wine glass, dragging my gaze up to his. We smiled at each other for a moment, the silence between us comfortable. As though we’d known each other for decades already.
Why has it felt so easy with him from day one?
“Are you here to eat?” I asked him, then realized what a dumb question that was for someone who had just come into a restaurant.
“Was hoping maybe we could get a weird cheese plate,” he said. The excitement that bubbled up in me was immediate. I loved weird cheese. And then I remembered we’d talked about weird cheeses in New York. And then I realized— he’d remembered. Why was that so touching?
“You came all the way from New York to get a weird cheese plate with me?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
“Maybe. I’m definitely ready to eat.” His cheek twitched as he said that, and the way his chin dipped had me thinking of him eating something else entirely. A blush warmed my cheek as I pushed the menu toward him, rattling off what I’d ordered only minutes prior. When I was done regaling him with my order, a movement over his shoulder caught my attention. The flash of a jawline that seemed too familiar. Blond hair that gleamed under the lights.
Across the restaurant, at the front door, Jericho had walked in.
Everything inside me seized. I must have looked stricken because Troy narrowed his eyes at me, leaning closer.
“Maddie?”
I swallowed hard, unable to move my gaze from Jericho. He wasn’t alone. He’d come with friends—specifically Caleb, his best friend from college, and two others who tended to follow him blindly. Their gazes moved across the restaurant, seeking something.
Was it me?
Panic swirled inside me. I didn’t want Jericho to see me. He couldn’t. But I didn’t know how to escape or how to blend in. So I did the only thing that seemed available.
I leaned into Troy.
In the back of my mind, I thought I might be able to hide myself behind his broad shoulders, using him as a shield. But the closer I got to him, the harder I panicked. My brain stopped communicating with my torso. My limbs jerked awkwardly, and my body followed the only path forward that made sense: kissing Troy.
Our lips connected softly. The warmth of him was the first thing I noticed, the way his heat and cedar trickled through me, down to my cells. I could sense his surprise, but more than that, I sensed his compliance. His big, rough hands caught my elbows as I leaned into him.
Troy didn’t pull away. He only deepened the kiss, his lips parting, inviting my tongue to meet his. What had started as an accidental kiss now turned into something so much more. This was intentional. It was fucking hot .
He traced the edge of my bottom lip with his tongue, one kiss bleeding into another. By the time I pulled away from him, I couldn’t even remember how the kiss had started. I blinked up at him, fully dazed. The same expression greeted me in return.
Desire pooled in his eyes, and he ran this thumb back and forth over the crook of my elbow where he still held me.
“That was a nice way to say hello,” he murmured, his voice gritty. “Is that how you greet everyone you haven’t seen in awhile?”
“I’m sorry,” I started, but had nothing to follow up with.
“Don’t be.” He squeezed my arms, tipping his head as he watched me. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Are you serious?”
A movement over his shoulder caught my eye, bringing me crashing back to the present. Tension still tugged at the edges of this unexpectedly romantic moment. Jericho and his friends were crossing the restaurant. Coming this way. I turned away from Troy, facing the bar, and reached up to tighten my ponytail.
“What’s this?” Troy’s voice had an edge to it. I glanced over at him, finding his brows wrought in concern. He reached for my exposed forearm. My loose sleeves had slid back while I adjusted my hair, revealing the mottled bruising from my run-in with Jericho the other night.
I swallowed hard, slipping the sleeves back down. I glanced over Troy’s shoulder, shrinking. “I don’t…it’s just…”
“Is this from your ex?”
I didn’t know what to say. So I nodded.
The last vestige of a smile faded from Troy’s face.