Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
I smile at my excited husband as he guides us over to our picnic.
The overlook has always been our spot to escape to, as teenagers, newlyweds, and new parents. I think of the last time I was here, after the couple's therapy session that Atlas didn't come to.
The hopelessness and grief I felt then are on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from the hopefulness and love I feel coursing through me, especially when I see what Atlas has put together.
My husband has laid out a large blanket, with LED candles strategically placed all around, casting the area in a warm glow, especially paired with the golden hour of the setting sun.
A portable speaker softly plays our favorite song, and I see our blue cooler from the garage, which Atlas opens to reveal a chilled bottle of wine.
There are also two sandwiches that he cut into delightfully misshapen hearts that make my own twist in my chest, and a big bag of our favorite spicy chips.
"And for dessert," he says, pulling out two pints of ice cream that make me gasp. Chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie batter.
"This is always sold out!" I say, cradling the pint like it's gold.
"May or may not have called in a favor with Mabel, who was very happy to help her favorite employee," Atlas shrugs, though there's a smug grin on his face. "She did read me the riot act for a bit, though—deservedly so."
My face softens and I squeeze his hand still in mine. "Atlas..."
He looks incredibly boyish when he asks, "Do you like it?"
"I love it," I say, glancing once more at the picnic, the scenery, the man. "And I love you."
Atlas' face transforms, and he cups my face in his hands, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.
"I love you, baby."
"Come on, I'm hungry," I say, making him laugh as I drag him to the blanket.
Atlas sits first, spreads his legs, and pats the space between them for me. I settle in, like I always do, and lean back against his chest as we dig into our food.
I keep the bag of chips between my own legs and feed him, as he places kisses on my neck in between bites, making me giggle.
He cracks open the wine, and we don't even bother with the glasses he packed, sipping right from the bottle as we watch the sun dip over Mercy Ridge.
"Do you remember Holly Whitman?" I ask, tilting my head back to see him grimace.
"I wish I didn't," he grumbles, his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "I don't know how many ways I could say I was in love and happy with you before she got the hint."
"She liked the challenge."
I can laugh about it now, but back then, it was irritating. She would do anything to get Atlas' attention in school, like lingering at his locker—which was really our locker. She'd walk next to him in the hallway way too close, even when his arm was firmly wrapped around my shoulders.
She would pass him notes that he would read and then immediately show me—little love letters about how she was better than me in every conceivable way and would show him one day.
Taylor would ball them up and throw them at the back of her head in class.
Desperate, Holly did damage to the engine of her car so she would have to bring it into Durant Auto, where Atlas worked on weekends.
She ended up messing with her car so badly that it was beyond repair, and when Emmett suggested this was deliberately done to Mr. Whitman, Holly crumbled and confessed. She was grounded indefinitely and chewed out by her mom and dad.
From that day on, she acted like Atlas and I had the plague.
"Yeah, it turned out to be a very expensive challenge. And she still failed," Atlas says, pressing a kiss under my ear. "I was yours then, I'm yours now, and I'll always be yours, Wendy Durant."
I smile, turning my head to meet his lips with mine. I playfully growl and nip at his lips, "That's right, Atlas Durant."
He chuckles before asking me, his grin a little feral now. "You remember Jesse Mayhew?"
Jesse Mayhew was bold as brass our sophomore year, flat out asking me out every opportunity he caught me without Atlas, which was rare.
Even when Taylor tried to tell him that it wasn't going to happen, he wouldn't listen. I tried to reject him, rather politely, but his attempts became even more pushy until I finally snapped at him to leave me alone.
He called me a bitch and tried to spread around the school that I was a slut who came onto him.
Thankfully, no one believed him, and word eventually reached Atlas.
"I remember him coming into school one day with a very nasty black eye," I say, turning my head to see Atlas smug smile. "And I remember his very sincere, very scared apology."
"They just didn't get it," Atlas whispers, his arms tightening around me while his face softens. "How lucky am I?"
I tilt my head in question.
"My first kiss, my first love, my first—" he grins, squeezing me again and making me giggle. "Everything is shared with my wife. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen at twelve years old, to the most beautiful woman in this whole world. And I'm hers."
"And she's yours," I whisper, turning completely to straddle his thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his around my waist, pulling me in even closer. "Always has been."
"Always will be. I'm lucky, because my wife is not only incredibly beautiful," Atlas presses a quick kiss to my lips. "But also because she's got the kindest soul, she's the best mother to our beautiful boys, and she thinks I'm worthy of forgiveness—"
"You are worthy of forgiveness, Atlas. You... you changed. You're healing. You're..." I breathe, shaking my head as the emotion chokes me. "I'm so proud of you, Atlas."
In the fading light, I can see Atlas' eyes go glassy, but I continue. "You could have drowned in your own thoughts, even after I filed, but you didn't. You fought. You fought for your sons, for your parents, for yourself, and—"
"And for you," he says, his voice like gravel. "Most of all, for you."
"And I'm lucky," I grin, brushing my nose against his and pressing kisses to his bearded jaw and cheeks.
"Because my husband is not only incredibly handsome," I nibble his jaw and feel his chest rumble, "But he's an incredible father, an amazing brother and son, and he's the strongest and most honorable man I've ever known. And I love him with every fiber of my being."
Tears trail silently down my husband's cheeks, and I kiss them away quickly. He cradles my face with one hand and guides my lips to his.
As the sun sets completely and the temperature drops, I can't feel anything but my husband's lips on mine. Heaven. Complete and utter heaven.
For hours, we live in a world where it's just us, looking over our town of Mercy Ridge. We giggle and wonder if Taylor and Trey are down there together somewhere, or if Liam and Noah are having fun at their grandparents' house, or if Trace has finally found his balls to call Bonnie.
We talk about the past and the future.
And I think of the past, and I think of the future.
The last time I was in this spot, I gave myself mercy and decided to end my marriage.
Now, I grant myself mercy and make another decision.
◆◆◆
"I am so sorry, I know you have to catch your flight—"
"Don't even worry about it," Imani laughs, handing me a thick file through the car window.
I peek in and smile when I read the top.
Withdrawal of Petition for Legal Separation
The tension in my shoulders bleeds from my body as I hold the official paperwork.
Technically, since Atlas stayed the night last month, the clock restarted on our separation, but I wanted to make sure all the paperwork was withdrawn.
Atlas will most likely get his own copy of the paperwork after his lawyer calls him tomorrow, but I wanted to give it to him tonight, at our usual Sunday family dinner.
After I show it to him, I want us to go upstairs, pack all of his belongings, and bring him home with us.
It's time.
We've done the work separately in therapy, we will continue to do the work in family and couples therapy, and we will keep doing the work forever if it takes, but I feel that we need to be in the same house for that to happen.
Selfishly, I want my husband home, I want my boys to have their father—new and improved—under the same roof.
I want us together again.
"Hey, there's this too," Imani says, reaching into her pocket and handing me a small slip of paper.
My eyes bug out of my head when I see what it is, but before I can protest, she gets the jump on me—lawyer, of course.
"I don't want to hear it."
"Imani, you did work for me for these last couple of months—"
"Wendy, people think I'm a heartless bitch for this job," Imani says plainly, sounding and looking unbothered. "I love helping women get what they deserve because I know that there is someone out there who will treat them the way they deserve, the way their ex-husbands didn't."
Her face completely softens, and she smiles brightly, "But I also love love, and that man loves you. He couldn't take his eyes off you during mediation. He was ready to roll over and let me take him for all he's worth for you. He fought his way back to you."
My heart warms at her words, and she points a perfectly manicured nail at me, "Just make sure he keeps earning it."
I sigh, glancing at the check in my hands—the retainer check I filled out for her, all the hours charged for all these months of work.
"Thank you, Imani, but really—I can't take this money—"
"Well, I'm not cashing it, and do you really think I'm hurting for money?" Imani says, gesturing behind her to her gorgeous home. She puts on her chic designer sunglasses and smirks. "Now, I have a flight to the Maldives to catch. Au Revoir!"
"Be safe," I tell her as she steps back and waves, and I pull away from the curb.
Imani's house is about half an hour away from home, and I had to lie to Atlas and tell him I needed to run to Mabel's for a work emergency.
Thankfully, Mabel is the type to give an alibi if needed, and show up with bail money at a moment’s notice. I'll be at Diane and Emmett's just in time for dinner.
As I pass by the Welcome to Mercy Ridge sign, my phone rings, and I answer it through the car's speaker.
"Hello?
"Hi, baby," Atlas says, though I can hear Diane's raised voice in the background, yelling about getting a mop and a pan and glass. "You're on speaker."
"Hi, Mama!"
"Hey, Mama!"
I smile at all three of their voices.
"Hi, my boys. What's going on?"
Atlas sighs, and I can hear him stepping away from Diane and Emmett's voices.
"Damn, you’re driving. I was hoping to catch you before you left Mabel's. Mom dropped the bottle of her favorite wine, and it splattered all over the floor. Could you pick up two more bottles?"
"Yeah, I'm not far from Mabel's. I can go back," I cringe at the lie, but am also thankful Mabel's is literally right down the road. "The Riesling, right?"
"Yes, please," he says, sighing in relief.
"Anything else?"
I hear Noah's voice in the background, Liam's deeper tone answering.
"Well, I know Liam wouldn't say no to some pretzels," Atlas says, and I hear Liam's excited whoop in the background.
Then Noah's voice going a mile a minute and Atlas answering him, "Noah, you want some—yes, she's stopping—no, she cannot pick up all of that—yes, the cheese sticks—okay, I'll ask—"
"I heard," I reply, laughing at my husband having to deal with the chaos. "Take me off speaker really quick."
"Okay."
"And what about you, Mr. Durant?” I grin, making my voice a little breathy. “You need some sugar?"
"You're the only sugar I need, baby," his voice drops into a low rumble that I can practically feel in my lower tummy.
I'm dragging that man back to our house one way or another tonight.
"Atlas..." I trail off, my voice breathy.
"I'm good," he laughs. "I just miss you."
"You saw me like an hour ago."
"Still too long without you."
"Cornball," I giggle. "I'll see you in a bit. I love you."
"Drive safe, I—Noah, don't run, there's glass—I love you too—Liam, get your brother—"
I laugh as the line goes dead, and my smile widens even more when I see the light ahead turn green just as I get to the intersection.
I've got good luck today, I think—eager to see my husband, my boys, my family.
I don't even see it coming.
I feel an impact and then—
Nothing.