Page 28 of Resilient Rhythms
She walks over to the island, a mug in each hand, and places one in front of me. A moment later, she returns with toast and jam. “I didn’t think you’d move in next door.”
“I’m full of surprises, beauty. You know that.”
She shakes her head, but I note the flicker of joy in her irises. Of hope.
I reach for her hand and wrap my fingers around hers. “I have to tell you something, Mckenna.”
Immediately, that flicker of joy is snuffed out and I mentally curse myself for being so careless with my words.
“It’s not bad. Well, I don’t think it is,” I tack on.
“What is it? Just, tell me.”
“We’re still married.”
“What?” She gasps, shaking her fingers from my hold and pressing her hand to her chest. “We’re—are you serious?”
I nod, dragging a hand through my hair. “I never signed the papers.”
Again, her mouth pops open and she stares at me, bewilderment crossing her expression. “It was your idea!”
“I know,” I snort. “I know. I…” I hang my head before meeting her eyes. “I wanted to do what was right,for you. Ifelt so damn guilty for everything I put you through and, well, I believed that removing myself from the picture was the best option.”
She wraps her hands around her mug and continues to stare at me, waiting for the full story.
“I never stopped loving you, beauty. You know that, right?”
Slowly, she nods. Her eyes never leave mine.
“I didn’t want to divorce you, Mckenna. Hell, I want to be the guy you can count on forever. After you signed the papers, I sent them to Aiden and fucked off to Costa Rica and…” I shrug. “I ignored his messages until we caught up last week and he informed me that we’re still married.”
“Did you sign?” she asks quietly.
I shake my head. “I will if you want me to but…I want this with you. Us. More than anything in the world, I want us to be a family.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth when you first found out? It’s been a week, Mav.”
“Ten days,” I clarify, pointing to the place next door. “I wanted to show you how serious I am about us.”
“You really bought the brownstone next door?”
“Renovations start tomorrow. I’d love your help with the design.”
“Seriously?” she asks skeptically.
“Yes. One day, Mckenna…one day, I hope it’s our place in Boston. I want you to love it.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her eyes watchful and assessing. Then, she whispers, “Thank you, Mav.”
“Don’t thank me, beauty. Just say you’ll come over this week for pizza and Cokes and help me choose kitchen cabinets and paint colors.”
“I’d like that,” she agrees. “I’m at the library every day but I can come by Friday night.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“Okay.” She smiles softly.
“Okay,” I repeat, taking a bite of my jam toast.
