Page 69 of Just My Ex

The next week, he took me horseback riding, something I’d only done a time or two before. Knowing I’d be nervous about it, he pulled me up on the largest, sturdiest horse I’d ever seen, and I sat in front of him as we picked our way up a low-grade trail in the Santa Ana mountains. He was mostly quiet; bending to kiss my shoulder and whisper all the ways he loved me.

At the top, there was his guitar and a picnic spread waiting for us. He serenaded me, a song he wrote, no less, and I said yes, under the starry sky.

I still shiver when I think of it.

Our engagement was short, per our military lifestyle. A couple of months after our wedding, he was deployed to Iran, coming home for a brief furlough, which is how Navie came about.

Henry also seems lost in thought, but the music’s ended and Navie’s begging us to play it again.

He tosses a look that says,See? I told you.I shake my head and curl my hands into themselves, willing myself to survive the weekend, with all these feelings and memories taking over my very existence.

When we finally reach the house, it’s exactly like I remember it. A Georgian style, cream brick, historic mansion with arched doorways and windows, and a tile roof.

We ring the doorbell, which I remember Henry did the first time we came. It seemed odd he’d do that at his childhood home. “Why don’t you just walk in?” I’d asked.

“I want to warn them we’re here,” he’d answered.

I had no idea back then just how fractured his relationship with his father was, and now, by the hard set of Henry’s jaw, I see it hasn’t improved.

He’s standing next to Navie on the other side of me, his face stone cold. Maybe even … pale?

This man, tougher than anyone I’ve ever known, an Army vet, is reduced to this right now?

My heart surges. I rest a hand on his arm as anger, hot and unwelcome, flares in my middle. His childhood harmed him, and that’s not okay.

“Henry,” I whisper. “We don’t have to do this.”

His look is sayingOf course we do.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We can go back to the resort, back to the myth, the legend, Longdale Lake.”

But it’s too late because the door opens. Instinctively, I clasp his hand in mine and we’re together, as a family, the three of us. We’re ushered inside by the housekeeper, a middle-aged woman dressed in all black. The place is opulent. I wonder, as I did the first time I came here, how they raised six spirited boys in such a fancy house.

No wonder Stella’s cozy rambler in Longdale Lake, with its rooster-themed kitchen, was so appealing to the boys every summer.

I can feel him bracing himself as we go alone into the sunken living room. My gaze takes in the burnt oil wood chandelier and elaborately carved, dove grey fireplace surrounded by intricate tilework.

I squeeze his hand as we sit together on one of the sofas and keep holding it when Alec and Oakley enter the room. Navie rushes to them and jumps into Alec’s arms.

Henry launches into business mode, protector mode. He’s still holding my hand, but his gaze roams the room.

“Looks like they’ve upgraded their security system. And it’s a bonus that the neighborhood is gated.”

“Well, hey to you, too.” Alec frowns at Henry before smiling at Navie.

“Sorry. Force of habit.” He grimaces and then continues on. “The problem will be how to convey to Mom and Dad the seriousness of discretion without scaring them, especially Mom.”

“Honesty,” Oakley says. “Just be honest with them.”

“I agree, Henry,” I say. His hand still fits perfectly in mine. And I don’t care that both Alec and Oakley have made pointed stares at our entwined hands.

Henry needs to know I’m not going anywhere.

At least not until we’re out of this house.

Celine enters the room, her dark, shoulder-length hair pulled back in a large clip at the base of her neck. Her casual, brilliant blue tunic and white, wide-leg lounge pants somehow accentuate how pale her face is.

“My darlings!” she cries as she hugs everyone. Navie first, since she launches without warning from Alec’s arms.

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