And I stood frozen in my grief.
At the paralyzing unfamiliarity and coldness that stretched between us for the first time in our lives. It felt wrong, so wrong. But I was helpless to stop it when the thought of him, let alone the sight of him, had me spiraling down a dark hole of everything he’d done.
Every way he’d betrayed me.
My eyelids slipped shut when the kids’ laughter rang free behind me, mixing with Beau’s low, gravelly voice as he spoke to them and fixed snacks. As he and Levi babbled nonsense to each other, and whatever our youngest did had one of those rare, rough laughs scraping up Beau’s throat.
Unable to stand there any longer without falling into that precious time that I missed and craved—or, worse, falling into my husband’s arms—I forced myself to walk away. Hurrying through the house until I ended up in the supply closet again. Staring vacantly at towels and linens and supplies until they blurred from view.
My shoulders jerked when Beau was suddenly there. Gently gripping at my wrist to move my hand away from my mouth.
“I wasn’t biting it.”
“I know,” he murmured as he stepped into my line of sight. “Savannah—”
“I can’t,” I said before he could continue, head shaking furiously. “I can’t do this in front of the kids.”
His stare shifted to the doorway and lingered when he said, “They’re playing. Levi’s in his sit-and-play.”
I wondered for only a second how long I’d been in there if the kids were all playing but shook off the thought and took a step back until I was pressed to the shelving. “I won’t do this in front of the kids, Beau. Not while they’re here.”
“Savannah, we have to talk—”
“I said no,” I cried out.
The muscle in his jaw feathered before he gave a harsh nod and left the closet, leaving a trail of his anguish and fear. Mixed with my grief and betrayal, it felt lethal.
The book in my lap was unopened, but I didn’t care.
I wasn’t sure if I’d even grabbed the book I’d recently been reading, I’d just reached out and grabbed a book on my way to sit in one of the living room chairs that evening. Waiting, waiting, waiting for when Beau would come downstairs.
For when he would leave.
My soul was screaming for him to stay. To make this hellish nightmare go away. But my heart needed him to leave because if this day had shown me anything, it was that I wasn’t ready.
He’d played with the kids for hours, and when Quinn had begun crying at the thought of him not being there for another dinner, he’d assured her he would be there.
And I’d nearly crumpled.
Wondering what kind of mom I was to put her children through that. I’d been so consumed by my own pain that I’d neglected their own confusion and hurt.
I’d choked back tears all through making dinner and hadn’t been able to eat once we were sitting, my stomach in knots from being pulled in so many directions. My body trembling from the overwhelming emotions I’d been drowning under for so long.
When I’d dropped a plate I was washing afterward, Beau had gently eased me aside and told me to go sit down, that he had it.
“Don’t touch me and don’t tell me what to do,” I’d quietly seethed, picking the pieces of the plate out of the sink.
He hadn’t responded or said a word to me since.
But he’d been there.
Tall and commanding and somber. Looking better than any man should in his signature Converse and dark jeans with his white tee stretched perfectly over his muscled build. Drawing me closer while my mind screamed to turn away. Making my soul sing and my chest wrench open. Stealing my heart repeatedly just to crush it.
I’d never been so conflicted or tormented. My entire being was so utterly exhausted after the hours near him. And I was sure if I would’ve had to watch him interact with our kids for another five minutes, I would’ve forgotten why I’d told him to leave in the first place.
The man was dangerous to my heart. He always had been.
I stilled when his steps sounded on the stairs, mentally counting each one so I knew where he was. But instead of turning for the front door, he turned toward me.
A trembling breath broke free when he entered the living room, my eyes focusing on the unopened book as he came closer and closer.
“They’re all in bed.”
I nodded when he stepped in front of me, squeezing my eyes tight when I had the strongest urge to look up at him. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for letting me see them,” he said, sounding like I’d given him the greatest gift in the world.
“I shouldn’t have kept you from them like that.” My head shook subtly as I lost the fight and looked into his eyes. Studying the emotions there and the sleepless nights defined beneath them and the way his black hair was all kinds of messed up from running his hands through it. “You can do this—what you did today. You know, come after work and stay until they go to bed. If you want.”
“If I want?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips as a huff left him. “Where else would I want to be? It’s killing me not being here with them every day—not being with you. We need to talk about what happened.”
“No, we don’t. I said not when the kids are here.”
“Then when?” he demanded. When my head only continued moving in rapid shakes, he rocked back a step, his fingers curling into fists before he flexed them and drove them through his hair. And then he was crouching down in front of me, hands on the arms of the chair. “You won’t talk to me when they’re home, but that’s the only time I can be here. How the hell are we—”
“I’m not ready, Beau,” I cried softly. “I can barely navigate my thoughts, let alone get through a day. I’m not ready.”
“Together,” he said, rough and firm. “We get through things together. Remember?”
“Not this,” I breathed, my soul crying out as our combined agony surged through the room. “Please go.”
Beau stood, body slightly swaying as he looked at me with open fear. “Savannah . . .”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
His chest pitched, pain and regret twisting his features as he gestured to me before gesturing in the direction he’d just come from. “Yeah.” His head hung and one of his hands came up to grip at his chest. “I—fuck.” He started away, steps slow and staggered before they stopped altogether at the edge of the living room. “Every last breath.”
And then he was gone.
As soon as the front door shut, I broke. A sob ripping from deep within the hollow of my chest as I crumpled in on myself. Body shuddering. Heart shattering. Soul grieving in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back from.
“What?”
I grabbed Madi’s hand and hurried her farther away from the boys, hushing her as I did.
Her eyes were round, her face lit up with surprise and excitement for new dirty deets. “When did this happen?” she whisper-yelled.
“It hasn’t.”
“But y’all are ready,” she said meaningfully. “When did that happen?”