Page 4 of Forgotten Romance

“Thanks.”

I follow Van into the living area, where toys are spilled all across the rug. The mostly empty bowls from their dinner are sitting on the coffee table, where they’ve clearly just finished eating, and it’s a way too obvious reminder of them going on with their lives without me.

It’s hard to be grateful for three months when Mack gets to have this always.

I wonder if he knows how lucky he is?

Van and I zoom cars around on the floor while Kiera grabs one of her schoolbooks to show me all the art she’s working on. I missed her first day of kindergarten, which killed me, but thankfully, kids are kids, and that’s not something she probably even thinks about.

A bowl of stir-fry is set down beside me, and my stomach immediately growls.

“Figured you’d be hungry after that flight,” Mack says. “I know how much you hate airplane food.”

“It’s the worst,” I moan, snatching up the bowl. Fuck, I love Mack’s cooking. It’s nothing fancy or special, but it tastes like home. “Damn, this is so good.”

Mack’s cheeks take on that pinkness that I love as he rubs a hand over his lips, trying not to smile. “It’s noodles and sauce from the packet. All I did was cook the meat and throw it all together.”

“No one knows how to throw prepackaged ingredients together like you do—” I cut off before I can call him baby.

I’d thought that it would get easier. That after the divorce papers were official, it would sink in that he’s not mine anymore, and I’d find it easier to move on. I even made a dating profile and everything.

The problem is, he’s still my best friend. It’s always awkward when I first get home and right before I leave again, like my presence disrupts the dust of our relationship and the reasons for our fights. But once the awkwardness fades, it goes back to how it’s always been between us. Easy. Light. He’s my favorite person.

It’s why I keep ignoring that voice telling me I need to make other arrangements.

“So …” He sits on the arm of the couch, crossing his arms and his legs at the ankle. “You’re home early. What does that mean for Christmas? Will you be here?”

Given that every year, I only get two weeks off, I’m not surprised that he’s asking. It does hurt that he thinks potentially missing Christmas with my family—especially when the kids are at such a fun age—is something I’d do.

“You have to be,” Kiera cuts in. “How will Santa know where to leave your presents if you’re not at home?”

I poke her belly. “I’ll be here. I wouldn’t want Santa forgetting about me, after all.”

“You will?” The hope in Mack’s eyes gets me right in the chest, and I know he’s trying to calculate. It’s the start of November; if I’m here for two weeks, gone for two weeks, then back home for two, that would mean that I’d be gone over the holidays. We have a lot to talk about.

“Yeah,” I croak. “I got some extended time at home.”

“How long?”

“Twelve weeks. I’ve done a lot for the company, and it’s about time they gave me something back.”

“Twelve … weeks?” Mack doesn’t look as thrilled as I’d been hoping for. “Huh. Okay.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No problem. It’s just …”

“The longest time we’ve spent together since before we got married?”

His clear blue eyes meet mine, all wide and unguarded. “Exactly.”

“I won’t get in your way, don’t worry. But I’ll be here to take some of the stress off your shoulders for a bit.”

He bites at this thumbnail. “And at the end of the twelve weeks, you’ll go again?”

“Well, yeah. That’s my job.”

His lips turn down.

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