Marie reached across the table to squeeze Jill’s hand. “I know, honey. It’s hard. But that’s the very thing you have to let go. It was a chapter of your life; but you’ve moved onto a new part of the book altogether.”
Jill sighed, looking out the big windows toward the flower-lined sidewalk outside. “I thought I had moved on. I left everything behind and went to the Caribbean. I built up my career. I started my own practice. I even thought that trying something with Maxwell was the final sign that I had moved on. But the pain is still here. Realer than ever. Why can’t I let go?”
Marie squeezed her hand again. “You’re holding on to the pain. Until you let go of it, you’ll just keep spinning your wheels. And I know it’s a scary proposition, letting go of the past. But if you want to move forward with anyone, you’ve got to have a clean slate. Emotionally. Don’t be naïve—but don’t hold on to what happened to you with one wrong man.”
Jill nodded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re right. And even though I’ve been trying to justify ending things…the truth is, I want Maxwell. I want to do things right with him. I want to give it a real shot.”
Marie’s warm smile sparkled with encouragement. And damn, Jill needed it.
Because even though giving things a shot seemed so simple, it was also one of the hardest things in the world.
But she’d hate herself if she didn’t at least try.
19
Almost a month after their break up, Maxwell still couldn’t say for sure whether or not he was okay.
By all rights, he should have been. The Sharks were advancing in the playoffs. They were one game away from making the Super Bowl. This should have been the happiest time of his life. But each day was edged with sadness, carrying a tension he couldn’t quite shake.
Custodial guardian and pro football player. This was his life now. So why didn’t it feel right?
He knew the answer. It was because he was missing one important component in that equation: devoted partner to an amazing woman. Jill. Their strict division of triplet care unfolded like a well-oiled machine, but it wasn’t fulfilling in the least. Yes, he loved the time he got with the triplets and was relieved to know they spent so much time with Jill and him. But he wanted more Jill. Again. Even though he tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t.
He could still work himself into the same feelings of frustration and outrage if he replayed their argument in her SUV enough times. But what had also grown in the interim was curiosity. Regret, even. What had she lived through that she hadn’t shared? He wanted to know, but also didn’t think it was right that she’d kept him in the dark.
But one thing became clearer as time went on: Maxwell wanted to go there with her. They’d proven how well they worked as a team. He couldn’t imagine picking up the parental role with anyone else, certainly none of the women who dotted his sexual history. It had all the makings for constant fights and nitpicking and division. But they’d become a team instead, and still were, even though the romantic aspect had faded away.
The Tuesday before the last playoff game, which would decide their Super Bowl participation, Maxwell found himself thinking about Jill more than usual. Each day off was fertile breeding ground for unchecked thoughts and fantasies. Jill still showed up in his fantasies on the regular, and it often forced him to take matters into his own hand in the shower whenever the thoughts got too sexy.
Part of him wanted to take the kids to her work and surprise her with flowers and a snack. But he still hadn’t figured out the right path forward when it came to blurring those lines again. Would they just find themselves back in the same predicament? He wanted to actually fix things, not just cover them up with a prettier version of the original Band-Aid.
So instead, he and the triplets spent the day in the backyard, alternating between playing in the cabin and tossing around the nerf football. The kids ran around like crazy whenever the football came out, which made his heart swell. He might get at least one professional football player out of the three of them. Cameron and Kevin fought to catch the ball whenever he tossed it their way while Shelley rolled around on the grass, shrieking with laughter.
“Come on, Kev! I know you can do it!” Maxwell tossed the football his way and the ball went past his arms yet again.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Maxwell said, jogging toward them. But Kevin darted for the ball and hugged it to his chest.
“Touchdown!” Kevin shouted. Clear as day.
Maxwell froze, staring at Kevin in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“Touchdown!” Kevin shouted again, jumping up and down with his hands in the air. Cameron and Shelley joined their brother, the three of them jumping joyously across the backyard.
“Holy—” Maxwell fumbled to get his cell phone out. This was incredible. Kevin had finally mastered the word. Jill needed to see this. No, she needed to be here. She needed to be a part of them again—during the nights and in the mornings. He swallowed a knot of emotion as he pressed record.
“Say it again, Kev,” he encouraged. “Come on. Auntie Jill wants to hear you say it.”
Kevin shrieked and threw himself onto the ground. Cameron piled on top a moment later.
“Come on, Kev!” he said.
But the kids had moved on. They were engrossed in a steam roller battle. Maxwell accepted this with a sigh and stopped recording. He opened his text messages, fingers hovering over the thread with Jill. It had been all business for the past few weeks. Her texting to let him know about schedule disruptions and what he needed to add to the grocery list. None of the warmth and flirtiness that had filled their text messages previously.
“Guess what?” he typed out. “Kevin finally said TOUCHDOWN.”
Jill’s response was quick. “OMG. That’s amazing. Did you get any evidence of it?”
“I tried. But he wouldn’t repeat it.” Once he fired off the message, he debated whether to add anything else. God knew he wanted to. Instead, he sent along the snippet of video he’d captured, encouraging Kevin to repeat himself. It felt like a compromise. Sending more than he’d normally allow himself, yet not sending what he actually wanted: Will you get over here after work tonight, please? I fucking need to see you. Adults only.
But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out from sending that message.
Because the more time that went by, the louder the truth rang inside him.
He needed Jill in the kid’s lives. But he needed her in his life more, for reasons that had nothing to do with schedules and organization.
He needed her smile. Her warmth. Her heart.
Nothing felt right without her.
That Sunday, Jill was at Maxwell’s house. Her anxiety had been through the roof recently. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she’d recently started seeing a therapist or because she knew, within her heart of hearts, that she needed to bare her soul to Maxwell soon.
Not just soon. It should have happened yesterday. A week ago, even. But of course now it was Sunday, and he was at the final playoff game, and he didn’t need her random declarations of love and adoration to cloud his concentration.
She paced the living room while the pregame coverage blared through the speakers, wearing her brand-new Sharks women’s jersey, SMITH emblazoned across her shoulders. It was tight fitting and showed off a little more cleavage than she’d expected, but it was one step of many that she planned on using to show Maxwell she was serious about this. About them. The triplets were still napping, having gone down late today, which meant all she could do was pace, fret, and nervous-eat Cheetos.