Five
Ethan
“What’s on your mind, son?” Dad asks, settling into the rocking chair next to mine on the front porch, the wood creaking slightly under his weight.
“Not much,” I reply, taking the frosty beer he hands me.
“How’s work treating you?” he asks.
“Busy as ever,” I say, savoring a long sip. “How’s retirement treating you?”
He recently retired after years of working long hours and days on the road as a truck driver.
Dad’s gaze shifts to the horizon, and he exhales thoughtfully. “I’m adjusting. It was the right call, no regrets there. But I’m still getting used to the quiet.”
We sit in silence for a moment before he clears his throat. “How is Lily doing?” Dad asks in a somber tone.
My parents still adore Lily. They were heartbroken and disappointed in me for my actions that led to the divorce.
“She seems to be doing well, considering.” A hollow ache settles in my chest as I recall the impulsive detour to her shop.
What was I thinking? Hell, I wasn’t thinking. It was an instinct, a magnetic pull I couldn’t resist. A part of me desperately needed to see her. To know she was okay.
“I met her, um…Ollie. Her son,” I stammer out.
“Oh, yeah? How did that go?”
I shrug. “It went fine. He seems like a good kid.” My chest tightens with a familiar ache. Seeing him made it all too real. The life we could’ve had, the future I threw away.
“He’s a sweet kid,” Dad murmurs. “All I see is Lily in that little boy.”
I slowly turn, finally facing him, a knot forming in my stomach. “Do you see him often?”
He sighs, a deep, weary sound. “He doesn’t spend time with us, if that’s what you’re asking. But Lily is like a daughter to us, Ethan. And Ollie, he’s still part of her. Part of Jake and Maddy.”
But he’s not mine, I think to myself.
My father seems to read my mind, his brow furrowing. “I’m sorry if that bothers you, son.”
I lean back in my chair and raise my beer bottle to my lips, taking a long swig.
Swallowing hard, I say, “Not in the way you think, Dad. It’s been four years since the divorce.
And for the longest time, I didn’t understand why she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive me. To give me a chance to make it right.”
I stare down into the amber liquid, swirling it aimlessly. “I still hate that I lost her,” I admit.
And that hurts more than I ever thought it would. She made her choice because I was the one who broke us. I keep thinking if I had done things differently, if I hadn’t been such an idiot, I wouldn’t be standing outside of her life looking in like an intruder.
I look toward the sun that is starting to dip below the horizon. Watching the sun go down is one of Lily’s favorite things to do.
“I miss her so much, Dad,” I confess, the words tearing from me. “I still carry that guilt with me, every single day, like a bad rash.”
“You can’t go back four years and change what happened. But that doesn’t mean you can’t make a difference now.”
I shake my head slowly, the weight of the years pressing down on me. “I think that ship has sailed, Dad. No matter what I say, what I do… It’s too late for Lily and me.”
He holds my gaze, a flicker of stubborn hope in his eyes. “Never say never.”
After dinner, we helped Mom with the dishes, and as the kids were saying their goodbyes, Mom pulled me aside.
“Honey, can you please give this to Lily when you drop the kids off?” She hands me a bag of leftovers. “And tell her to give me a call when she has a second. I miss talking to her.”
Something in my chest tightened at that. It was a reminder that while we were no longer married, the relationship created through our family still exists.
“Sure.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Night, Mom.”
“Good night, sweetheart.” She walks back into the house.
I climb into the car and put the bag in the back seat with the kids.
We ride to Lily’s in silence. When I pull up to her driveway, the house is dark, but her car is here, so she has to be home. As the kids jump out of the car, I grab the bag from the back seat and follow them. Jake unlocks the door and calls out for his mother, but there’s no response.
I close the door and stand in the doorway like an idiot. I glance around the space. It’s very homey and cozy, two things Lily tried to accomplish when we lived in the mansion. I think that house was too much for her, which was why she was quick to sell it.
My eyes drift to the photos adorning the wall, capturing moments of her with the kids. None of me, which I can’t blame her for. I wonder if she threw them away.
Each image reflects Lily’s radiant smile and the happiness she shares with our children and her little boy.
I swallow hard as I push the pain away, forcing myself to look away.
We used to dream about expanding our family.
It’s hard to believe the last time we had that conversation was only a few years ago.
“What are you doing?” She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that still sent a delicious shiver down my spine after all these years.
“Just admiring the view,” I murmured, my gaze lingering on the curve of her neck, the way the fading light caught the stray strands of her hair. “And how much I want to kiss my Sunshine.”
Before she could respond, I unbuckled her seatbelt. My hands found her hips, pulling her gently but firmly across the console. She gasped as she tumbled into my lap, her body molding perfectly to mine, her head now resting on my lap.
“Oh, my God!” She giggled, but there was no protest, only a melting surrender.
I stared down at her, memorizing the delicate spray of freckles across her nose, the way her skin glowed, kissed golden by a lifetime spent in the sun.
I reached out, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, then brushed her long, dark blond hair away from her face, letting it fall over my leg.
“You are so beautiful,” I whispered. My thumb stroked the soft skin beneath her eye, feeling the subtle flutter of her lashes.
“So are you,” she countered, her voice a low purr, her eyes shining up at me.
I leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Still, she tightened her grip, her hand sliding up behind my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my descent with an urgency that mirrored my own.
I caught her gaze before my mouth finally claimed hers. It was a hungry kiss, deep and searching, tasting of salt and sunset and everything I loved about her.
God, I loved this woman with every fiber of my being. Every breath, every shared glance, every touch was a testament to the life we had built.
I pulled back and looked at her. My voice rough with emotion, I said, “I want to get you pregnant again.”
A soft, surprised chuckle escaped her. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I affirmed, then leaned in to steal another quick, possessive kiss from her still-swollen lips.
“We already have two,” she teased, a grin spreading across her face. “You really want another one?”
I placed my hand on her belly, my heart swelling with love. A smile tugged at my lips as I gazed at her. “I want as many children as you are willing to give me.”
I kissed her again, a deep, lingering promise that tasted of forever, of family, and of all the beautiful, chaotic life we were still meant to build.
“Ethan?” Lily’s soft and tired voice sounds from down the hall and pulls me away from the memory.
She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt that she wore in high school, and a pair of gray leggings with fluffy socks.
Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, begging to be set free.
I used to love pulling the tie free and watched all that gorgeous silk cascade around her shoulders.
She doesn’t look like the happy and bubbly Lily I fell in love with all those years ago. She looks... broken and sad.
“Ethan?” she asks again.
“Sorry.” I shake my thoughts away and hold out the bag. “This is from Mom. She wanted you to have it.”
She steps close enough to take the bag and takes a step back. “Thank her for me, please.”
“No.” I shake my head, rubbing my temples. She seems taken aback by my abrupt reply. “I mean, no, she would rather hear it from you. She misses you.”
She looks down at her feet. “I miss her too,” she says almost in a whisper.
“You should call her. She really wants to hear from you,” I tell her.
She looks back up and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks.”
“Okay, well, have a good night.” I turn around to walk out before I suffocate in pain. When my hand reaches the doorknob, she calls out,
“Ethan, do you think you can keep the kids until Wednesday?”
I turn, my gaze catching hers. A brief flash of something other than sadness flickers in her silvery eyes, the kind that tells a story she’s not ready to share.
It’s almost as if whatever she’s holding onto is a physical weight, causing her more stress than she can bear.
She’s protecting herself, or perhaps me, from its harsh reality.
Before I can form a question, she speaks again.
“Can you keep them?” she presses.
A familiar heaviness sinks into my chest. God, how I want to push, to demand answers, to tear down the wall that’s been between us since that night everything shattered. But the familiar barrier is still firmly in place, and for good reason.
All I can manage is a slow, firm nod as my chest tightens with concern. “Yeah, Lily. Of course I can keep them,” I say, trying to convey the promise that I’m here, even if she won’t let me in. “I hope you know you can always count on me.”
Her eyes soften. “I know I can,” she says.
Neither of us looks away. I want to ask her what’s really going on. I want to beg her to let me carry even a fraction of whatever weight she’s holding. But I know better than to push.
“Good,” I say softly. “Have a good night, Lily.”
Her mouth curves into a smile. “Night, Ethan.”
I walk out with my heart feeling heavy, full of regret for not being the one she can come to anymore, for failing to be the safe place she once needed.