Chapter Thirty-Six
Atlas
Even though it's technically my house, I still ring the doorbell.
As I said, I'm in a nice dress shirt—dark gray with black pants and black dress shoes. My hands grip a bouquet of vibrant orange and yellow flowers. I went to Joanne, our local florist, and worked with her to craft the arrangement.
"I need a bouquet for a woman who is pure sunshine," I told Joanne.
She snapped her fingers. "Got it!"
It's beautiful. The deep orange reminds me of my wife's hair and the yellow reminds me of the sunshine feeling I get when she smiles at me. It's my Wendy in flower form.
The door swings open, and my sons stand there: Liam, with his eyes narrowed and arms crossed, and Noah, attempting to mimic his brother, but the bright smile on his face cuts the intimidation in half.
"Hi, Daddy!" Noah chirps, rushing to hug me. I open my arms and carefully wrap them around him, being careful of the bouquet as I bend to kiss his little ginger head.
"Hi, buddy," I murmur into his hair, pulling back to see him smiling brightly up at me—his mama's smile.
"Noah, we're supposed to be intimidating," Liam says through gritted teeth.
"Oh! Right," Noah nods, before walking back next to his brother and crossing his arms. He puts on a scowl that looks a lot cuter than he intends it to and growls, "What are your inpentions with our Mama?"
Liam sighs disappointedly, and I bark a laugh, "My intentions? Where did you hear that?"
"Internet," Liam and Noah say at the same time.
I smile, straighten my face, and say to them:
"My intentions are to take your Mama out on a nice date and return her home safely to you."
"Where are you taking her?" Noah asks.
"Antonia's."
Liam scoffs, "Mama deserves more than Antonia's."
Tough crowd, though pride swells in me, because this is exactly the example I want to set for my sons: how to treat someone they love.
"She does, but Antonia's is important to us, and—" I crouch down to meet each of my son's eyes, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "I have plans."
"What time will you be bringing her back?"
"Before your bedtime," I tell them as Noah steps aside to let me into the house.
I glance around, my eyes drinking in the familiar space. Nothing has changed since I was here last. The same family pictures line the walls. The same furniture in each room, and the scent of lemon cleaner and warm vanilla floats through the air.
Liam gestures at the flowers in my hand, smirking.
"Not bad. I would've gone with roses, though."
Noah snickers. "Yeah, that's because they're Birdie's favorite flower—"
"Shut up," Liam snaps at a giggling Noah.
"Boys..."
At that voice, I glance up, and my throat goes dry.
Wendy's walking down the stairs, her beautiful body in that perfect dress I had pleasant dreams about last night.
My fingertips brushing her spine, caressing her back, my mouth trailing kisses all the way up to her neck, and making her shiver.
I clear my throat as Wendy glides over, and I let my eyes linger. Her hair is curled and pulled up with a couple pieces framing her face, her makeup is done lightly to highlight her beautiful eyes, leaving the freckles I adore visible.
The dress she’s wearing is deceptively sexy—reserved in front. The black fabric clings to her curves with a high neck and long sleeves, a hem that stops mid-calf.
"Hi," she smiles, and the sight of it almost knocks me on my ass.
When she gets within feet, she twirls, giving me a look at her back...
I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.
I've always loved Wendy's form, long and graceful, and even now, after two decades and two kids, she's the only woman I see.
Liam and Noah are laughing at my no doubt slack-jawed expression. Wendy shoots them a small smile before walking so she's standing right in front of me.
I clear my throat, hands shaking and palms sweaty.
"You look beautiful, baby," I murmur.
Her cheeks color as she glances down, hands smoothing the front of her dress. Then my heart stops dead in my chest as I look at her left hand.
She's wearing her rings.
I blink twice to make sure I'm actually seeing it, and she catches me looking.
Smiling, she gestures with her left hand, a little dramatically, and makes sure I see the ring, "Are those for me?"
My answer is delayed because my tongue feels too heavy for my mouth, and my brain is moving at half speed, so it takes me a minute to realize she's pointing at the flowers.
I just can't take my eyes off the diamond ring on her finger.
"Yes," I croak, handing them to her and suddenly feeling sixteen again, picking Wendy up for a date.
"They're beautiful, Atlas—let me go put them in a vase," Wendy beams as she walks into the kitchen.
I watch as she presses her nose to them with a tender smile on my face, and I feel myself perk up even more.
I made her happy.
"Knock-knock!"
The front door swings open and Taylor walks. Noah runs to her with an excited yell, Liam close behind. They hug their Aunt Taylor and she catches my eye over Liam's shoulder.
"Hey, Atlas," Taylor greets with a small smile. I know she's seen and heard my behavior over the last year, and she probably doesn't like me much right now.
"Hey, Taylor," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and shifting awkwardly.
Taylor turns to the boys, "Go get your things."
"Race you!" Liam says, causing Noah to take off. He grins at his brother, and they wrestle their way up the stairs to their bedrooms.
Her words make me frown, and I turn to Taylor, "Wait, are they sleeping over at your house?"
"Yep," she says, smirking. "Wendy wanted you guys to have alone time."
My heart jumps in my chest. Alone time. I glance back to the kitchen, peeking through the doorway to see Wendy placing the flowers on our kitchen table.
Her fingers, with her ring glittering under the overhead lamp, gently caress the flowers. She has a small, hopeful smile on her face.
My chest puffs out at this, feeling both excitement at Wendy's smile and a surge of determination to make this night perfect for us.
Yet underneath that warmth, an old cold unease starts to seep in—slow and poisonous, like a shadow over my hope.
What if this is your last day with her, Atlas?
What if she goes to bed and doesn't wake up tomorrow?
The intrusive thoughts hit me hard.
Horrifying images, my worst nightmares, flash in my mind: Wendy dead in all manner of ways. Wendy sick and wasting away in a hospital bed. Wendy bleeding out while I'm powerless. Wendy's car crumpled on the side of the road.
I wince, snapping my eyes closed and struggling to shake the nightmarish images and steady my breath.
Dr. Mason, Dr. Wilson, and Dr. Newman's voices all sound in my head, a soothing chorus of coaching.
Facts. What are the facts?
I glance at the kitchen, where Wendy is, hearing her soft humming and smelling her warm vanilla scent.
Wendy is safe. Wendy is home. I am home. I am safe.
The tight coil in my chest eases as I repeat my mantra.
Wendy is safe. Wendy is home. I am home. I am safe.
"Hey," Taylor says softly, a note of concern in her voice. "You okay?"
Taking a few deep breaths, I nod. "How much do you know about what happened?"
"Just that you were struggling. You needed time away to heal, but you're doing better," she says, gesturing to me and then in Wendy's direction. "Clearly."
A wave of gratitude washes over me toward my wife.
Even after all I've done, she still protects me. She could have blasted my neglect from the high hills, preaching about how terrible a husband and father I was, and she'd be correct.
But she protected me, even then.
God, I love her so much. I don't deserve her, but I'm going to work every day to prove that I'm worthy.
"I'll admit, I didn't like you for a while,” Taylor says plainly. “But she loves you."
"I love her. I never stopped, I just..." I trail off, the tears stinging my own eyes. "She can tell you, if she wants. And if you want to know."
Taylor shrugs. "You're here now. It's not my business, but... just... don't fuck this up again. She was really... she was not well. She was trying to hold it all together, but I knew she was close to breaking."
I squeeze my eyes shut. The floor creaks near the kitchen, and when I look at the doorway, I can see Wendy's shadow tucked behind it, listening to us.
It makes me smile, just as Taylor's next words do.
"But, I know you love her, Atlas. It's almost sick—I've never seen two people more in love in my life. My aunt and I kind of hoped you'd find your way back to each other."
I keep my eyes on the doorway and pour every bit of love, gratitude, and respect I have for my wife into my words.
"I love her more than words can say. She's my whole world. She pulled me out when I was drowning."
"Remember that," Taylor tells me as footsteps clomp down the stairs. "Alright, the last one to my car is paying for the popcorn!"
"I don't have any money!" Noah shrieks, his voice panicked. I laugh and see Wendy, trying to look casual as if she wasn't eavesdropping—little sneak—walks out from the kitchen.
Noah quickly hugs me, then Wendy, who grabs him for a kiss on his head. "Bye, Mama! Bye, Daddy!"
"Put your coat on!" Wendy calls as Noah runs out of the house, carrying only his backpack. Taylor laughs and runs after him, unlocking her car. Liam grabs both of their coats from the closet, stopping to let Wendy give him a hug and a kiss. "Have fun, baby."
"I will," Liam says, before turning to me.
He pauses, and I tense, waiting. Then he drops his bag and the two coats in his hands, before surprising me and walking into my arms. I squeeze my oldest son close, and he whispers, "Take care of her, Dad."
"I will," I whisper and clap him on the back.
When we pull back, Wendy's eyes look a little glassy as she watches us. Liam swings his bag over his shoulder and smiles before following them out to the car.
Once we hear Taylor's car pull away, I turn to Wendy, who's watching me curiously.
"Are you okay, honey?"
The word honey breaks me wide open.