Page 13 of The Dating Pact

“Move!”

“Ouch!”

I cupped my hands around my mouth, yelling to them, “Hey, stop pushing! Seb, let her play with you. Lulu, you can’t stand in front of your brother while he’s swinging. You’ll get hit.”

They ignored me, going back to arguing, but this time quieter. I probably should have marched over to them and broken it up, but kids were like wolves. Sometimes you had to let them fight it out. Figure it out on their own.

It had been a week since my birthday, summer was in full swing, and I was already counting down the days until the kids were back in school. Amelia was headed to kindergarten in the fall. Crazy to think about how fast it all went. And yet, not at all.

It was true what they said. The days are long, but the years are short. Sometimes it felt like yesterday when we’d brought Amelia home in her soft pink muslin blanket. I could still remember how Mira had sat on the couch with Sebastian at her side, both of them staring at the baby in her arms, both of them so in love with the tiny bundle of joy.

I should’ve taken a photo, captured Sebastian’s grin and Mira’s watery eyes. I didn’t take enough photos.

I regretted that.

I regretted not having more physical reminders of Mira around the house. It wasn’t enough, especially for Amelia, who had barely learned to walk before her mother left us.

There wasn’t enough time, not for any of us. But I’d never give up what I’d had, what we’d all had. Because while it wasn’t perfect, it was beautiful. Every new day with Mira had been better than the last. She’d made me a better person. A better husband. A better father.

And since she’d died, it’d been a daily struggle. Getting out of bed eventually became easier, but the second-guessing never did. Neither did the pain of the yawning hole in my heart

At a shriek, I glanced up from my phone, finding Sebastian chasing Amelia, though for fun. I grinned when he gently tackled her, and she giggled, kicking her feet. Seb rolled over, allowing her up, only so he could chase her again. See? Sometimes they loved each other.

I filmed a video of them running around the yard and texted it to my family’s group thread because now I took photos and videos. After responding to my mother’s message about making sure they had on sunscreen and Youmna’s series of emojis, I opened the dating app to scroll through the profiles of the women I’d matched with.

I had noticed Natalie’s message last night. A simple Hey! How are you?

It should’ve been easy. All I had to say was I’m good. How are you?

And yet…

I scratched at my beard, feeling not for the first or even fifteenth time since creating a profile for this app that I was betraying Mira. She was more than my first and only love. She was also the first and only woman I’d ever dated. Hell, she was the first and only woman I’d ever had sex with.

I knew nothing except Mira.

I wasn’t sure how to do the whole dating thing, but I was tired of keeping warm with only my memories. Even in my loneliest moments, when I fell down the rabbit hole of Mira’s shy smile, the dip of her waist, her little outie belly button, the heat and smell of her skin, it was impossible to ignore how my body responded. While my heart wasn’t necessarily ready for sex, my dick sure as hell was.

And I couldn’t avoid the clawing need building inside me.

My mind drifted back to Brooke’s words as we’d helped each other create our profiles. “It doesn’t have to be forever, Jude. It can be for right now. And if it’s not right, you can always say no. You can always stop.” When I’d started to protest, she had held up her hand. “If your goal is to have fun, then that’s what it should be.”

She was so earnest, as always. Only wanting the best for me.

In the middle of my meditation on my past and what my future might look like, my kids raced up, hungry for lunch. Amelia was currently obsessed with Cinnamon Toast Crunch and ate it for almost every meal, but Sebastian was satisfied with microwavable pizza. As the kids argued over what to watch on the iPad, I helped myself to a premade bagged salad because, apparently, I needed to eat vegetables.

“Hey,” I said, tapping my hand on the table. “As soon as you’re finished eating, you’re plugging that back in and doing something that doesn’t melt your brains.”

They both nodded and proceeded to eat very slowly.

I stuffed my mouth with the flavorless green stuff, letting my gaze wander over the brown cabinets and old wallpaper. This house was supposed to be a starter home for us. Mira and I had barely begun to look for a bigger place, talking about what our dream house might look like, when she’d passed. She had wanted open cabinetry and a bigger kitchen. I wanted a finished basement with a sectional. We both wanted a bedroom big enough for a king-sized bed. As much as we both loved to cuddle, neither one of us liked to be squeezed together while we slept. And, of course, we wanted room for the kids to grow. We’d even talked about having a third.

On occasion, I’d considered selling this small Cape Cod with gray siding and a kitchen straight out of some ’90s family sitcom, but I didn’t know what was worse, living with the ghost of my wife in the walls or starting somewhere new with no evidence of her at all.

Neither choice seemed like the right one.

After I cleaned up lunch, Amelia settled with a coloring book, while Sebastian flopped on the couch to play a video game, leaving me some time to work. I passed through the living room and tapped on the corner of the big photo in the hall out of habit. It was the last picture of all four of us. From the day Mira died.

It was four years ago, an early spring day. While I’d played all kinds of sports growing up, I wasn’t really good at any one of them and did it more for the social aspect than any real hope of being an all-star. Mira, though, she was an athlete and participated in multiple track events. Secured a full-ride scholarship to college and everything. She was fast, despite being relatively shorter than the women she competed against. She made up for her smaller strides with pure power. Her relay team even won a national title.

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