“And that’s it?” I’m certain Autumn told Peyton something.
“Yep,” he says. “Just came to chill and to see how you’re doing and to see how things went today.”
I need some liquid courage to get through the drama of the day. Noah is probably the only person I’d ever confide in about anything personal because I know he won’t say anything to anyone, aside from Peyton. He’s told me from day one he’ll never keep a secret from her. I admire that about him. Truthfully, I want what he and Peyton have. They’re so aware of each other. Anytime you’re in a room with them, you can sense their connection. Noah always knows where his wife is and is by her side if he feels she needs something. Elena and I were never in tune with each other like that.
“Well, I filed. Elena will get the papers tomorrow. I’d like to think she’ll sign and send it back, but I know her. This is going to set off a shit storm. I asked for full custody, with reasonable visitation. No alimony. She can keep the house in Los Angeles. And then after I filed, I went to therapy and talked about my feelings and how frustrated I am, and Autumn.”
“Autumn, why? Are you guys serious?”
I shrug and take another drink. “I suppose we could be if I weren’t an idiot. I sort of left her in limbo for a few days and didn’t return any of her calls or texts.”
Noah looks at me and shakes his head. “Peyton is going to whack you upside your head.”
“I know, and I deserve it. Autumn is amazing, and I’ve probably lost her.”
“You think so?”
My shoulder lifts again. “Would you pursue a relationship with a woman who isn’t divorced and raising two kids, who can’t be bothered to call you after you’ve slept . . .” I let my words trail off. I never intended to tell Noah about Autumn and I taking our relationship to the next level.
“Dude, you didn’t?”
The up and down motion of my head is so slight, I’m not sure he notices until he gives me the most exaggerated eye-roll. “You ignored her calls.”
“Let me grab you some salt to pour in my wounds,” I say.
“Peyton isn’t going to slap you. She’s going to flat out beat your ass.”
“Believe me, I’m doing a fine job of that on my own.”
There’s a noise in the hall, causing Noah and me to halt our conversation. Reggie walks into the kitchen, surprised to see Noah sitting there. “Oh, hey, Mr. Westbury,” Reggie says as he pads toward us. As close as Noah and I are, I’m trying to teach my children to respect adults. Noah has told the kids they can call him by his first name, which I appreciate, but I have told the kids they can only do that on game day.
“What’s up, Bud?”
“Nothing. I heard some talking, thought I’d come to investigate.”
“Want some fries?” Noah pushes the bag toward Reggie, who happily takes a few.
“Do we have any ice cream?” my son asks. I shrug and tell him to look in the freezer. He does and pulls out a half-gallon of something. “Can I make a milkshake?”
“Of course. Do you want my help?”
Reggie shakes his head and proceeds to grab the things he needs. Noah nods toward him and says quietly, “How is he taking everything?”
Another lift of my shoulder. “Some days are really good. Others, not so much. He knows his mom is seeing someone, but he also knows I’ve been dating Autumn. He seems to like her, though. He’s hard on Elena; calls her out on her bullshit. He tries to call his mom almost every day and maybe speaks to her every third day.”
“I can’t imagine. After I met my dad and he had to go back to L.A. for work, we talked every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t remember exactly how long it was, but I think he moved back to Beaumont within a month of meeting me. And now, I talk to him and my mom every day. I can’t imagine not speaking to them, especially at Reggie’s age.”
“He talks to my parents more than he talks to his mother. I hate it.” I see Reggie struggling with the ice cream and get up to help him. I don’t take over but put my hand on his and help him scoop the rounds into the blender. I stand back while he measures the milk, and I tell him I think I’m going to make one after him.
“Mr. Westbury, do you want a milkshake?” Reggie asks.
“Yes, I think I do,” he tells my son, who beams back at him. I take the scoop and carve out more rounds of ice cream and then head back to my seat. Reggie gives Noah the first shake and then goes back to make mine.
“This is really good, Reggie. Thank you,” Noah says. “Is there a secret ingredient?”
“Miss Meghan adds a dash of vanilla.”
A dash of vanilla? Who is this boy in my kitchen?
“Well, it’s very good. I’m going to have to tell Miss Peyton to do the same next time.”
Reggie brings my shake over. His smile is so bright he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I hate that this divorce shit has dimmed his light. He should be happy and carefree all the time.
After Reggie makes his milkshake, he puts the ice cream and milk away and then comes to sit down between Noah and me. Instantly, he takes a fry and dips it into his shake. “So good.”
I take my son's lead, as does Noah. Before we know it, the large bag of fries is gone, as are the shakes, and the three of us are sitting back, rubbing our bellies. Reggie lets out a burp—one that rivals anything I could’ve done—and starts laughing as he covers his mouth. I look at him in horror, but Noah follows up with his own, impressive belch.
“What is wrong with the two of you?” I ask, acting completely horrified. I move away from my disgusting mates and start to clean up the mess, shaking my head as I go. I’m not mad at Reggie, although I am slightly taken back by his actions. He is usually very civilized. Noah, on the other hand, not so much. When Peyton isn’t around, he’s as crass as the next guy. Reggie apologizes and begins to help me clean up.
“I should get going,” Noah says as he throws his wrapper away. “Peyton’s group will be done shortly, and I want to be home when she returns.”
“I meant to ask you earlier,” I say as we walk toward the door. “I thought she finished up with the group before you guys got married?”
“She had, but sometimes she needs their support. She works to avoid triggers but saw some wreckage on the news the other day and had some trouble decompressing.”
“Damn, trauma like that never goes away, does it?”
Noah shakes his head. “Nope, but at least she recognizes when she needs to talk to others and doesn’t hold her feelings in. I’d rather her go to her group than bottle her emotions up.”
“Makes sense.”
Noah and I say goodbye, and I tell him I’ll see him at the facility tomorrow for practice. I head to Reggie’s room, knocking quietly on his door before opening it. I find him sitting on his bed with a smile on his face.
“I’m glad you came out to visit,” I tell him as I go in and sit down next to him.
“I think we should have people over more often.”
“I do too.” I pull my son toward me and kiss the top of his head.
“When can Miss Autumn come over?” he asks.