Page 29 of What Broke First
“Tonight felt right,” he said quietly. “Just us. Like we remembered who we are.”
She didn’t back away, but she didn’t step closer either.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” she said gently. Matt nodded, the warmth in his eyes tempered with acceptance.
“Yeah. Okay. I miss this,” Matt said, voice low. “All of it. Not just you. Us.”
Sarah didn’t answer right away. Her fingers traced the edge of the light switch, as if flipping it might change the conversation.
“I know,” she finally said. “Me too. Somedays.”
She opened the door.
He left without another word, and Sarah stood at the door long after it closed, her hand resting on the frame.
The quiet in the house felt heavier now, filled with the echo of laughter and something dangerously close to need.
She wasn’t sure if she was bracing for a beginning or an ending, only that whatever it was, it was getting harder to deny.
Chapter 16: Temptation, Denied
Sarah hadn’t expected to see Matt the next night. She was in yoga pants, hair in a messy bun, face bare. The kids had just gone to bed after a long day of whining, giggling, and demanding snacks as if their lives depended on it. She was halfway through a glass of red wine and a British baking show when the doorbell rang.
She opened the door to find Matt standing there with a sheepish smile and a pizza box.
“I brought bribes,” he said. “And garlic knots, which I’m told are legally required.” She stared at him for a long beat.”
What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. I just... I wanted to talk. But not like a dramatic porch scene kind of talk. More like... pizza and regret.”
She stepped aside. “Regret is the house special.”
They ate at the kitchen table like old times. Like before. The conversation was easy, too easy, and Sarah hated how quickly her guard wanted to drop. He was funny. He listened. He complimented her on her ridiculous slippers.
And then there was that look. The one that used to mean we’re going to bed early, but not for sleep. She caught him looking at her that way. The way that said he still remembered every inch of her. Every laugh. Every fight. Every night they had closed the bedroom door and left the world outside.
“Matt,” she said carefully, the air shifting between them. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you forgot who blew up this marriage."
His expression changed. Not a look of guilt, just quiet. “I never forgot. I think about it every single day. Besides, you were giving me the same look last night.” The silence stretched. Then Sarah stood. “I’m tired,” she said. “You should go.”
He rose too, slowly. “Okay.”
She walked him to the door. He paused there, one hand on the frame. “Can I ask something?” he said. “You just did.”
He gave a half-smile. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”
She blinked. “Are you serious?”
“I didn’t say make love to you on the stairs while the pizza box watches. I said kiss.”
She hesitated. Then, against her better judgment, she nodded.
It was brief. Careful. One of those kisses that feels like a question, not an answer.
