Page 57 of Back in the Saddle

She nodded.

I didn’t know what that meant. That she wanted me to but didn’t believe I could. Or that it would take more than one promise to rebuild our relationship. Or that she was happy I admitted I’d fucked up. It didn’t matter. I had to prove that I was going to be a better mother, like I had been before it all started falling apart. And this was the start.

“OK. Figure out a list of names so we can get some invites out and I’ll order pizza.”

I didn’t know who her friends were, so I didn’t throw any names out there. What a disgusting thing to admit. It was those friends that would help shape her life. And by what had been said during parent-teacher interviews, she’d chosen better ones this year. I couldn’t help but wonder if other working mums had this problem too. Most were probably like Ciaron. He had much more involvement than me.

“All sorted?” Ciaron asked as he set the table.

I stood and went to help him. “Getting there. Just a couple of last-minute things.”

He gave my hand a squeeze. I held on for a moment longer than necessary. I wanted him to know I appreciated his support.

We sat down for dinner, Ciaron and I next to each other as usual and the kids opposite us. Mary sat next to Ciaron, touchinghis arm and looking up at him whenever he spoke. I stabbed at my potatoes. I doubt she’d paid him this much attention to him growing up.

“Do you need us to help with dinner again tomorrow, Taylor?” Mary said. “Isabelle and Callum said you get home late a lot.”

The tongs of my fork clinked on the plate. Isabelle and Callum shifted in their seats. I stared at the space between them. I didn’t want them to feel bad for stating a fact, even though I wished they’d said it to anyone else but Mary.

“Ciaron usually does the cooking,” I said.

“Oh.”

I’m sure she knew that, but she’d still found a way to have a dig at me.

“Dad’s a better cook,” Callum said lightly.

Another pat on the arm from Mary.

“Mum makes the best spag bol though,” Isabelle said.

I smiled at her and gave her a silent high-five.

“The agreement in our house is that one cooks, and the others do the dishes,” Ciaron said. “I hate doing the dishes.”

“Probably as much as Mum hates cooking,” Callum said.

“That’s why we are a perfect match.” Ciaron lent over and gave me a kiss.

I tried to hide my surprise. Yes, we were trying to show Mary that we were still a strong couple in love. And that is exactly what we were working towards. But I didn’t know we were going to be so open in front of the kids. Not when we’d agreed to shelter them from our healing until we were more certain.

Callum and Isabelle didn’t miss the kiss, judging by the small grins on their faces. Neither did Mary, as evidenced by her not so quiet grunt. And just for her viewing pleasure, I gave him another one. I didn’t care how petty it was. Or how poor Ciaronwas feeling being stuck in the middle. He put himself there by kissing me first.

“Ciaron said earlier that Ireland is much better for farms like this,” Mary said.

Did he just? Why would I want to leave the family farm to start another one in another country? To be closer to her? No, thank you.

I gave him a sidelong glance.

“What I said was that I’d sure like some of Ireland’s rain right now,” Ciaron said.

“Yes, yes, same thing. You wouldn’t need to worry about droughts or bushfires.”

I pressed my feet firmly onto the floor, directing my frustration there. “There was a drought in 2018.”

“One year doesn’t count for much of a drought. I think it would be easier for you both, and you wouldn’t have to work so much, Taylor. You could be with your family more. I’m sure the children would like that.”

Did Callum and Isabelle agree? I snuck a look at them both. Isabelle was frowning. My stomach dropped. I didn’t want our talk earlier to be wiped out by Mary. I thought we’d made some progress.

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