I jump, surprised. He appears more awake now than he did just a moment ago. I open my mouth to say something, but Clara’s voice calls out from the laundry room. “Can you get Jacob to bed, Mitch? It’s late.”
I freeze, and Jacob peeks up from behind the couch.
After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, Clara enters the living room, wiping a stray hair from her forehead. “Did you hear me, Jacob? It’s time for bed.”
“Heard you loud and clear,” I mutter as I usher Jacob into his room, hoping he doesn’t say anything.
Thankfully, he just crawls into bed without a word. I close his door, my body tense. My mind is a blur. When I face Clara, her smile spreads slowly, and I notice the suggestive twinkle in her eye that I’ve come to know and love.
But I don’t move.
I don’t throw her over my shoulder and run us up to her room like I wanted.
I don’t say anything.
Instead, I grab my jacket and head for the door.
“I thought you were staying.” Clara crosses her arms. She twists her lips like she’s hurt, but I’m the one who’s dejected.
Naive.
Stupid.
I was stupid to think this was as real for her as it was for me.
Dropping my hand from the doorknob, I step toward her. “You called me Mitch, Clara.”
“What?”
“Just now. You called out to Mitch.”
“I didn’t…” she trails off as realization dawns. She pales and covers her mouth with a trembling hand. “Dax, please don’t think I meant anything by it because I didn’t. It was a mistake. I’m so used to him being here to help with Jacob—”
“It’s more than that.” I grind my teeth like I’m using all my energy to push a dolly of bricks through a wall—impossible.
Clara and me—we’re…
Shit. We’re a fantasy I was lost in.
Reality settles in and hurts me more with each word that leaves my mouth.
“It’s more than routine, Clara. You miss him, and I get it. He was your husband of over ten years and Jacob’s father. I won’t compete with that—I don’t want to—but I can’t…” I point between us. “I can’t wonder if he’s who you wish was in bed with you every night instead of me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“This whole situation isn’t fair.” I raise my voice, then grip the back of my neck and try to keep my temper under control since Jacob’s in the next room. I lower my voice when I say, “I just can’t.” I reach for the door again.
“Dax, please don’t go.” Her voice is shaky, and I know even without looking that tears are forming in her gorgeous eyes.
I exhale a shaky breath of my own.
Anger.
Defeat.
Love.
I feel each and every emotion as I take her in—the woman I’ve chased and waited for all my life.
With each thought, my heart speeds up. If I was hooked to the monitors at work, the beeping would be deafening.
“Give me your hand,” I whisper.
Her hand is still shaking when I cover it with mine and place it over my left pec.
“Feel that?”
She nods, her lips quivering.
“My heart has beat for you since we were kids.” I pause, still attempting to keep my voice down when all I want to do is scream. “It’s always been you.”
She chokes on a sob, raising her saddened eyes to meet mine.
“I told you I’d wait because I thought you just needed time, and you’re worth every minute. But I don’t think that’ll be enough.” More tears fall down her face, smearing her light mascara. “I’m not enough because I’m not the one you want,” I whisper, the realization making the monitors flatline in my head.
We were having a perfect evening. I was happy. When I walked through her door earlier, I was dead tired from my day at work, but when I laid eyes on her and Jacob, nothing else mattered. I was brought back to life. They breathe joy into my existence. A joy I’ve never known before.
I finally understood what my own father felt when he came home to us.
But it’s not real.
With one “mistake,” as she calls it, the whole illusion is gone.
They’re not my family.
They still belong to another man—the man they really want.
She buries her face in her hands, shaking her head as though she wants to believe I’m wrong, but she stays silent.
We both know I’m right.
Silently, I open the door and force my heavy feet to move. I leave the one who got away—twice—behind me with only her soft whimpers calling after me.
But I don’t look back.
Twenty-Eight
Clara
I put my car in drive, sighing—I’ve been doing that a lot this week.
Since I called Dax by Mitch’s name.
Once I reach the school, I bury my face in my hands, wanting to disappear. This town is too small. Our world is too small. I see Dax everywhere, even when it’s not really him.
Every sandy-blond-haired guy with a confident gait is Dax.
The school bell rings, and students slowly trickle out of the building.
Jacob walks out with Luke and another kid I don’t recognize. Jacob laughs along with the two boys, his fingers curled around the straps of his backpack.
My shoulders immediately sag, and the corners of my lips curl as he jumps in the car. No matter how much of a mess I am, the sight of Jacob always eases my tension.
“How was school today?” I ask, grabbing my coffee from the cupholder.
“My math homework was all correct,” he beams. “Dax is so smart.”
I choke on my coffee, recalling the night Dax helped Jacob with his homework. How right everything felt.
We were a family.
The only family I’ve known besides my parents has been with Mitch. When I was watching Dax with Jacob, it reminded me a lot of Mitch. How Jacob used to look at his dad. How much he loved him, and vice versa. It’s why Mitch’s name slipped.
I clear my throat. “That’s great, honey.”
“When’s Dax coming over again? He promised me a Minecraft day. We have a lot of work to do.”
My chest aches, unsure of how to answer him. “It may not be for a few days. He’s very busy.”
“He always makes time for us, though, so I know he’ll be back soon.”
“I hope so,” I mutter, putting the car in drive as the pickup line starts moving.
I come to another stop and glance behind me at Grayson and Sidney. They smile widely as Luke leans between them to show them a piece of paper.
My heart squeezes, wishing I had someone to share these moments with.
Wanting that someone to be Dax.
My fingers itch to call him and tell him Jacob got an A on his math homework.
To share these moments as Jacob continues growing. He’s growing faster than poppies, and he has so many stories of his grades, friends, and sports that I wish I could share with Dax.
“Mom, are you watching the road? You can go.”
“Right.” I put the car in drive and inch forward.
The whole way home I try to wrack my brain for how to fix things between Dax and me. He hasn’t answered my calls and won’t return them.