Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Emma
“Got everything?” Tom asks as I shove the last bag of toys into the back. As expected, we’re leaving with more than we arrived with. He chuckles as I fight the hatch, the leaning tower of Legos wobbling dangerously before I finally get the door fully latched.
“You know this was too much,” I grumble.
“It’s what grandpas are for.” He smiles, patting the hood like it’s a good stallion.
I follow him back up to the house, a swirl of emotions sloshing in my gut.
Gratitude. Guilt. Relief. Gratitude for him and his kindness.
He’s such a wonderful grandpa and father-in-law.
Guilt for the time it’s been since we visited last, though he hasn’t once given me a hard time for it.
Relief that, this entire weekend, he hasn’t pushed me to talk about Steven—not once, when everyone else couldn’t resist.
He must sense what I’m thinking because he wraps an arm around me and hugs me close. His white beard scratches my forehead as he presses a gentle kiss there.
“I’m lucky to have you as a daughter-in-law, you know that?”
“I’m lucky to have you.” I give him a squeeze.
“When will the boys be back?”
I glance down at my watch and shrug. Steven took them to feed the cows and get donuts before we head back home. The least I could do was let them have that time together. Still, dread curls in my stomach. What is everything going to be like once we’re home?
Tom leads me to the two rocking chairs tucked into the corner of the wraparound porch, gesturing for me to join him. The weathered blanket draped over one flaps in the cool morning breeze. He hands it to me as he sits, the wood creaking with the motion.
Sun dapples the wooden porch planks at our feet, highlighting chipped paint and old nail heads. Along the fence line, cows graze lazily on whatever Steven tossed into their troughs earlier, and dew clings to the grass that stretches farther than my eyes can see.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” Tom asks behind closed eyes, letting the sun warm his face as his chair creaks back and forth.
“I’m alright. How are you?”
He doesn’t open his eyes, but the incredulous shift in his expression is enough. The look I’m all too familiar with…he sees right through me.
I laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Darling, your husband can’t remember your life together. You’re not alright.”
“Good point.” I chew my bottom lip, staring too intently at the wrinkles fanning from his eyes and the subtle flutter of his closed lids.
“And that’s okay, you know.” He smiles softly. “You don’t have to be alright all the time.”
I snort at this.
“I’m serious. It’s nice to know we’re all human. Feeling things, even the bad stuff, reminds us of that.”
“Tell your son that,” I mutter, hating how pathetic I sound. I keep comparing how I’m handling all this to how Steven is. Which is ridiculous. He lost his memories. I didn’t.
“I’ve tried,” Tom says. “But you know how he is.”
“I do.”
“Can I tell you something?” He stops rocking and turns to face me.
“Always.”
“I almost left Donna once.”
I sit up, startled. “Are you serious?”
“It was a long time ago, but yes.” He turns back toward the fields. The cows have abandoned the trough and migrated closer. Their tails swat lazily as they linger along the barbed fence. “The kids were young; Steven was only five.”
I wait, holding my breath. Tom and Donna have always been a power couple in my mind. Unshakeable in every sense of the word. Even against her diagnosis, they were unstoppable. Hearing this knocks me slightly off-center. I wonder if Steven knows.
“I used to have a temper,” Tom says quietly, cutting a glance at me like he’s afraid I’ll judge him. “I don’t know if Steven told you about that.”
“He mentioned you had big emotions when he was little. Nothing bad,” I reassure him, leaving out the small details.
He did tell me his dad struggled with anger, never to a severe point, but enough that it had a lasting impression.
It shaped Steven into someone who buries every frustration until it explodes.
Tom hums in acknowledgement. “Well, I went through a season where everything made me mad. My job. The kids. Even Donna, if you can believe it. The littlest thing would set me off, and I’d stomp around like a child.
” He laughs softly at himself, shame and self-awareness mingling.
“So, one day, I told Donna I was leaving her.”
I gape at him, righteous anger flaring red hot behind my ribs.
“You know what she said?” He laughs again, lighter this time. “‘No, you’re not.’”
He mimics her voice, smiling wide, the memory that seems like a bad one lighting up his features as it all comes flooding back to him.
“She didn’t let you leave?” I ask.
“She didn’t let me make a stupid decision.” The fondness that shines in his eyes tugs at the spaces between my ribs, spreading warmth and fullness there. “She knew I loved her. She knew I loved our kids. I didn’t really want to leave them.”
“Then why did you tell her that?” My confusion is clear as my mouth hangs wide open.
He sighs and there’s a weightiness to it I’m not used to.
“Because I thought I was a poison to our lives. I added more stress than I should’ve.
Instead of making things easier for my wife, I made it harder.
She had to worry about me and my emotions, in addition to taking care of the kids.
I knew she could handle it without me; she was a rockstar.
She is a rockstar. And I guess a part of me thought they would all be better off without me.
You know what I mean?” He gives me a look that tells me he already knows the answer to this.
I hum, knowing all too well what he means. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I have to look away, focusing on the clouds drifting across the sky.
“You know what she said next?” he asks.
“What’s that?”
“She told me I was right.”
I laugh, surprised. “What?”
“She said she could handle it all without me.” He shrugs, and I can almost hear Donna’s blunt honesty. The image fills me with something bittersweet. “She knew how strong she was, how capable she was. She could conquer the world if she wanted.”
“I believe that.”
“But she told me she didn’t want to do it alone.
She wanted me with her, even if I was grumpy half the time.
” Emotion gathers in his eyes, and he chuckles softly.
“We’re not perfect people, Emma. But we stuck it out together.
And even with where we are now…” He sniffs, wiping at the tears that haven’t spilled yet. “I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”
I squeeze his hand. “I know you wouldn’t.”
He squeezes back before standing. “Steven is lucky to have you.”
“Thank you.”
“But you’re just as lucky,” he says with a wink. “Don’t give up on him, Em.”
He gives me a smile, the one that every daughter wants from a father, the kind that knits you back together when you didn’t even realize how unraveled you’d become. He kisses the top of my head and heads back inside, the screen door snapping shut with its usual bounce behind him.
Just then, a cloud of dust rises as Tom’s yellow step side truck barrels toward the house.
Steven whips the thing back and forth, hitting small bumps intentionally, Easton and Sawyer grinning wildly in the front seat.
They screech to a stop at the edge of the driveway, gravel skittering under the tires.
The boys’ laughter erupts as they spill out of the truck.
“Hi, Mom!” Sawyer shouts as he rushes into the house.
Steven lingers, watching them with a tight, unreadable expression.
Then he climbs out, and his gaze finds mine.
I can’t tell what’s behind it. Is he happy to see me?
Angry? A million questions ping around in my head as he climbs the porch steps.
He gives me a shy wave and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back. “How’d it go?”
“Good.” He nods once. “Sawyer thought he had me convinced that we let them eat five donuts at a time, though.”
A tiny laugh escapes me, and I press a hand to my cheek. “Taking advantage of you, huh?”
“They have no remorse,” he says dryly.
He holds the door open for me as we make our way back into the house. Josie is on the floor with Shayna and Jay, while Donna sits curled on the couch. Her eyes are distant today, not fully here. Steven’s gaze falters, lingering painfully on his mom before drifting to Josie.
If it were possible to see joy erupt physically out of someone’s chest, that’s what I would see right now. His whole posture softens, brightens even, becoming something open and unguarded as he watches her roll across the play mat. She notices him, her smile stretching wide, cheeks, drool, and all.
My stomach flips as he drops to the floor beside her.
His baby talk bubbles up, which is a cross between Elmo and Mr. Rogers, but I’ve grown to love it.
The old Steven stopped baby-talking when the twins were six months old.
It was like he’d outgrown that playful, joyful side of himself—the side I fell in love with.
And now, watching him, those feelings are stirring again.
“You sure you got it all?” Steven teases once we’re packed in the car, eyeing the inside of the SUV that’s now busting at the seams.
“Har har.” I roll my eyes and buckle up.
He chuckles, leaning his arms against the hood. “Be good travelers, boys.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Bye, Dad!”
The boys settle into their seats with a plethora of road trip activities, barely acknowledging Steven’s presence—mine too, for that matter. As if nothing is weird about the fact that their dad isn’t coming home with us. Maybe it’s better this way. Let them believe things are normal as best we can.
“Well…” Steven looks at me, leaning in through the window, lingering, waiting. “Drive safe.”
“I will,” I whisper, gazing up at him. His dark skin is striking against the backdrop of the morning sun.
It casts a glowing halo around him so enticing I have to bite my lip.
The moment in the alley last night still lingers on my tongue, sizzling deep in my core.
His warm breath fogs the space between us.
“Is it weird to say I’ll miss you?”
I laugh, unable to help it. “Of course not. People love to hear that.”
He laughs too, his award-winning smile gleaming back at me.
Then it softens into something tender, affectionate in a way you reserve for someone you truly cherish.
The center of my chest aches at how quickly hope tangles itself around this picture of him.
Hope that’s threading through all my vital organs.
A hope that can either protect every part of me or destroy me in an instant.
His hand finds mine, pulling it to his lips.
He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles then pauses when he reaches my wedding ring glinting in the sunlight.
The gold band is worn, the diamond dull from years of life.
He twists the ring slightly, deciding something, before letting it go and placing my hand gently back on the steering wheel.
Then his eyes, dark and warm, trace their way up my arm, lingering on my lips before finally meeting my gaze. He’s thinking about last night too. I can feel it in my bones.
When life gets hard, or your husband loses his memory and you have to proceed with caution, it’s easy to forget what attraction feels like.
What it’s like for desire to burn hot inside you or to feel wanted in return.
Even in marriage, desire gets buried under the rubble of life, sometimes lost for good.
But I’m realizing when it comes back, it comes back with a ferocity you can’t explain.
Fierce and unbidden, like it’s been locked up for far too long.
Even with everything going on, my body is on a different wavelength entirely. A hot and consuming wavelength.
A pulse rockets through me as Steven licks his lips and leans in, the heat of him brushing my neck.
He presses a kiss to my jaw. A low sound rumbles from deep in his throat, and I feel it reverberate down my spine.
Reluctantly, he pulls back, pupils swallowing the warm brown of his eyes, before steadying himself and clearing his throat.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask him.
He exhales, blowing the breath dramatically out of his lips. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I need to spend time with her.”
My gaze flicks to the window of Donna’s room, the floral curtains fluttering against the glass, and I wonder if she’s watching us from her chair. Steven follows my gaze, and so many feelings ripple through him—even without saying a word, I can see them settling deep into his heart and breaking it.
After last night, I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. Part of me wanted to run, and part of me wanted to take Steven with me, to run from all of it together. But this morning, I heard Donna crying. Tom tried to soothe her, but nothing worked. She was so lost it was heartbreaking.
That was when I knew. Even if Steven coming home with us might be best for me, for us, him staying here is what’s best for her. And right now, choosing her, even when it hurts, is the kind of selflessness we need.
Steven rests his forehead against the door, eyes pinched shut, and lets out a shaky breath. “I hate this,” he says, and I don’t know if he means his mom or us.
I press my palm to his cheek, and he leans into it, letting me sweep my thumb along his skin. I don’t know what to say to make any of this easier for him. Maybe leaving him here feels cruel, but he knows, deep down, it’s what he has to do.
“I’ll really miss you, Em,” he says with his eyes still closed. The words fade like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
“I’ll miss you too.”