Page 14 of Dream with Me

After several moments, Jack chuckles, and Finn chides, “I think he gets it, Linc.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Lincoln finally lets me go, and we all look at each other awkwardly, not knowing how to bring it back to regular guy time.

Ben reaches into the bag he brought. “Does anyone want to play Yahtzee?”

The tension in the room dissipates immediately as we break out in laughter. Ben is holding up a Yahtzee box.

“For shit’s sake, Ben. Maybe you should leave and go hang with Mom and Aunt Jen tonight if you want to play Yahtzee,” Jack teases.

After giving Ben a hard time, we settle on watching the hockey game that’s on television, as we eat more pizza.

The next hour passes fast—it always does when we hang out— and before we know it, Lincoln has scooped out ice cream for each of us, and Ben, not to be deterred, has set up Yahtzee on my small coffee table. He suckers Finn into playing with him because Finn is the ultimate nice guy and will do almost anything for anyone.

Jack, Lincoln, and I watch the rest of the hockey game, not even bothered by the shaking of the dice in the little plastic cup and the trash-talking Ben is tossing at Finn whenever he gets a decent roll.

When the hockey game is over, I stand, grab everyone’s empty ice cream bowls, and make my way to the kitchen. Jack follows and helps me get the dishes done and the kitchen straightened up. When we’re done, I turn to head back into the living room.

“Troy?”

I stop and look over my shoulder at Jack. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I meant what I said in there. We all did. We love Shannon and we hate to see her hurting. We’ll do anything to protect her, but we know we don’t have to protect her from you. You’d never intentionally hurt her. What’s...” He pauses and runs his hand through his hair nervously. “What’s happening with you two doesn’t change the fact that you’re an important part of this family. We’re not letting you go. You’re our brother.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, fighting back the emotion rising in my chest, and nod at him. My chin quivers, and I grab a hold of it with my left hand to still it. Just when I think I’m going to lose the battle and tear up for the second time in two weeks, a shout of “Yahtzee!” rings out through my small house.

I tilt my head and look at Jack. “Was that Linc?”

“I think it was.” He shakes with laughter. “C’mon, let’s join ‘em.”

A few minutes later, Ben, Finn, and Lincoln have sucked us into their game. The five of us thirty-something guys are spread out around my tiny living room floor, egging each other on as we play the most competitive game of Yahtzee I imagine has ever been played.

CHAPTER9

SHANNON

“Listen to me. You’ve got this. You’re smart, you’re capable, and you’re beaut—” I can’t say it. It’s a mantra I go over with my girls at least weekly to remind them they’re all of those things—smart, capable, and beautiful, exactly as they are. God knows the world will try to tell them it’s not true, but I’m hoping hearing it over and over at home will help them see themselves as they are—amazing little girls who will grow up to be badass women able to do anything they want.

I know I’m trying to build the confidence of the woman in the mirror, but I can’t lie to her and tell her something that’s not true, even if the point is to raise her confidence. Ugh, the pointisto tell myself these things until I believe them—all of them—so I at least have to try.

I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. I fix my stare on my reflection in the mirror, determined. “You’re smart, you’re capable, and you’re beau... beauti... Damn it! It’s just a word, Shannon.”

I give myself a break and inspect my new haircut in the mirror. Since losing the weight of the six inches I had cut off last week, my natural curls got some of their form back, and my hair now falls a little below my chin. The stylist tried to talk me into highlights, but I don’t have the time—or the money—to keep up with regularly getting them touched up. So, I stuck with my natural mousy brown color. That, mixed with my brown eyes, makes me look... neutral. It’s the word that pops into my head when I look at myself, even when wearing eye makeup I don’t usually wear, and the touch of pink lipstick. I look neutral and average. It’s not atrocious, but definitely not beautiful. I’m not even sure if I’m pretty anymore. Definitely not compared to all the other moms who are regularly at any of the different activities my kids are enrolled in.

“All right, let’s do what you can. No self-judgment here today.” The woman in the mirror nods back at me. I stand tall. “You’re smart. You’re capable. And that’s enough.” I shrug my shoulders. It’ll have to do.

When the doorbell rings, I startle. I’m so nervous about my first day of full-time work outside the home in years that it doesn’t take much. I bend down and snatch Chase off the bathroom floor, where he’s thankfully sat entertained by his toy fire trucks. He holds onto one for dear life as I pull him into my arms and snuggle him against my side.

“You ready to go see Daddy, bud?”

Chase is undeniably a daddy’s boy, and his eyes light up with delight at the mention of his father. He flails his arms excitedly, chanting, “Daddy! Daddy!”

My reflexes aren’t as fast as they used to be, so I don’t dodge the small metal truck clasped in his little hands in time. When it strikes my lower lip, the immediate sting hurts, but more than anything, I’m worried because now I’ll likely show up to my first day with a fat lip.

“Great,” I murmur. “Just great.”

It’s a struggle to keep Chase in my arms as I walk down the stairs—he’s fighting to get down to get to Troy. When I reach the bottom step and place him on solid ground, he races to the door, calling for Troy the entire time.

When I pull the door open, Chase jumps at Troy, who easily catches him and hugs our boy, kissing him on top of the head. He hasn’t even looked at me yet, so it gives me a moment to check him out. How, at thirty-five, he still looks boyishly handsome yet all sexy man at the same time, I’ll never know. It’s pretty low of Mother Nature, or the Universe, or God—whoever’s responsible—that most men age like Troy, and time can be so hard on a woman.

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