Page 3 of Forgotten Romance

Davey

Two Years Later

My gut is tied in knots as I take a car from the airport to home, still reeling that I have an entire twelve weeks ahead with my family.

The last time this happened was … never. For the last eight years, I’ve been working my ass off for Dayton PR with two straight weeks in the office, followed by two weeks working from home, and now … the promotion to marketing director has never felt so good. Negotiating leave for Christmas and extended remote work for the holiday period was hard-won, but goddamn it, I was determined.

My head swims at the freedom these next three months will bring. Home with my kids and my husband—ex-husband. I shake my head, hoping the reminder will sink in this time. The divorce was amicable, it was what Mack needed, but everything has been so complicated since.

I should have at least moved out of the family home, but with Van and Kiera still so young and me home only half of the month, it didn’t make sense to get my own place where my time with them would be even more limited.

So I’d stayed.

Moved as far as the spare room, and every time I’m home, I develop the deepest kind of insomnia, thinking about Mack, asleep in our bed on the other side of the wall.

I swallow roughly, gripping the bag at my feet tighter. It’s filled to the bursting with Christmas gifts, even though I know Mack more than has it covered, but every day I’ve been gone this last month, I’ve been thinking about them.

My son, my daughter, my ex-husband. Those three will always be the world to me, no matter how legally separated we are. No matter how much Mack might think I put my work first. Everything I do, it’s always for them.

The car pulls up out the front of our home, and the warmth I get every time I’m here never fails to catch me off guard. Deep peace settles into my bones, and I get to live with that feeling for three whole fucking months. Nothing to take me away. Nothing to split my attention.

My grin spreads across my face as I jump out and meet the driver at the trunk, where he’s already pulling my suitcase out.

“Thanks so much.”

He flicks me a wave, jumps back in the car, and takes off.

I turn back to the house and catch two little faces popping up in the window curiously. Their eyes land on me, and Kiera’s whole face lights up.

“Daddy!” I’m not sure if I can actually hear her over the breeze or if her voice is embedded in my brain, but the second her lips form the word, Van’s little face lights up too, and they both disappear.

I jog for the front door and reach it just as Kiera throws it open and jumps into my arms. Van clings to my leg, and I scoop him up too, taking a minute to squeeze the ever-loving shit out of them. Van wriggles in my grip, stuttering out a barely formed sentence that I have no hope of understanding.

I raise my eyebrows at Kiera. “What did he say?”

“He wants to show you his trucks.”

Well, thank goodness for that. I thought he’d said something about fucks.

“Davey?”

I set the kids down, using the moment to steady myself before glancing up at Mack. My smile isn’t anywhere near as insane as it was for the kids, but it’s there anyway. How this man can make me both so happy and so fucking sad at the same time, I’ll never know. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I look like already.”

He rolls his eyes and meets me in the hall, where he hauls me into a hug. “We didn’t think you’d be home until next week.”

My hands find the place on his lower back where they fit so well. “I know.” Him being happy to see me has me feeling smug. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“We’re surprised.” He steps back suddenly, breaking the amazing contact between us, and that’s the last chance I’ll get to hold him again until I leave.

Van tugs at my arm. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Well, that’s new,” I say to Mack.

He looks bewildered. “It’s truck. I swear.”

“Big fuck. Biiig fuck. See. See.”

“Go let him show you,” Mack says. “I’ll take your stuff up to …” He clears his throat, and I know he’d been about to say our room. “I’ll take it up.”

---