Page 109 of The Perfect Mistake

They talk about names, comparing lists, Willa serious but happy, and Isabel engaged and amused. I try to focus on the conversation. The hand in mine. Sam’s voice, trying to interject with better names, like the names of superheroes he likes.

I clear my throat. “Who will you marry, honey?”

Willa frowns. Clearly her thought process hadn’t extended that far. “He’ll be a prince,” she decides. “So, I’ll be a princess. And my daughters, too.”

Isabel laughs. “Really? That’s amazing.”

“Who will you marry?” Willa asks.

“Oh, I don’t know who. I’m not sure if I’ve met him yet,” Isabel says lightly. “But I don’t think he’ll be a prince. Those are reserved for you. But the most important thing is that he’ll be good.”

“Good,” I repeat quietly.

She glances at me, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Caring, protective… and making time for what’s truly important in life.”

It sounds like the opposite of me, then. She’s made a point of telling me to do more of the latter. Whoever it is… he better treat her right. Hold her when she’s crying and encourage her dreams.

He better know what a treasure she is.

“I think,” Willa says loudly, “that it’s better to marry a prince.”

I run a hand over my jaw. “Yeah, maybe that’s the key.”

We make it back to the apartment, and to Katja waiting with dinner. She’s a steady presence in our home, and this time it’s no different. The kids flock to her immediately, and she lets them both have a tiny snack before they rush to wash their hands.

Isabel and Katja chat quietly. I take a seat at the table and feel a hundred years old. She wants a good man. Two kids. A home of her own, probably. A new job and a life that’s filled with times at that home and adventures outside of it. A stable family life. And someone to spoil with her smiles and kindness she dispenses so liberally.

She’s only twenty-five, so there’s no rush for any of it. She can easily wait another decade before settling down.

I run a hand over my face. The picture she’d painted is easy to imagine, and my mind fills in the blanks of what a life with her would be like.

It’s hard not to want it.

Dinner is the usual chaos. Food is eaten, even if some of it has to be coaxed. Bath time and bedtime, and I stay extra long beside Sam after he’s fallen asleep, watching his chest rise and fall steadily beneath his star-spangled cover.

Could I have more kids?

Do I want more kids?

The thought lingers for longer than it should before I shake it loose. It’s an absurd question, and I know exactly why it had risen to the surface.

No, I can’t have any of that. Can’t go down that path again, even if it’s with her. The hurt was far too great the first time. I don’t think I can survive it a second time… not if there’s a risk of the same outcome.

Loving and losing Isabel would kill me.

I pause in the hallway, lean against the wall, and take in the view. She’s changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater again. She’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the giant couch, and the TV is on, the volume low. Her hair is unbound, long and black down her shoulders, reaching almost to her waist. No makeup on. I’ve learned to tell the difference now. She’s achingly beautiful both ways, but I think I like this the most. When she looks soft and relaxed and at home, here with me.

She catches sight of me, and a sweet smile spreads across her face. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Are you going to stand there and watch or join me?”

“I haven’t decided, yet.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I know what I want.”

“Mm-hmm. And what’s that?”

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