Page 51 of Make Me Whole

“Me too.” The little boy nodded like a lost puppy, then turned to his father with pleading eyes. “Can’t we, Dad? Can’t we sleep here and have ice cream at night with them?”

Max’s glance bounced from his son to me. I raised a brow, letting him know I’d be perfectly happy with the arrangement. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “We’ve talked about this, Aiden. We can visit but not move in permanently.”

“Why not?” my daughter asked, echoing the question I was silently asking.

He shifted in his seat as he held Ella’s eyes. “Because this is your house. Aiden and I have our own home.”

Knowing Ella as well as I did, I could tell she was about to start one of her “but why?” routines that lasted hours, so I interrupted to save Max the grief. “Would a sleepover satisfy the two of you?”

Both kids widened their eyes, their smiles spooky wide.

“Would it include late-night ice cream?” Aiden asked, lacing his fingers over the table like a banker discussing a loan.

God help me.“Yes.”

“How many nights are we talking about?”

I was flying by the seat of my pants and had no idea how many nights Max was comfortable with, so I just shrugged. “Let’s start with one on Halloween. We can trick or treat over here, and you guys can camp in the playroom with ice cream and half—”

“A quarter,” Max corrected me with warning eyes.

I nodded. “That’s better, and with a quarter of your candy loot.”

Ella raised a brow at Max and me. “Will we have to give the rest of the candy as payment for the sleepover?”

I laughed. “No—”

“Yes,” Max interrupted me once again, the same warning in his eyes. “But only three bars each. The rest we’ll save so you can eat a reasonable amount per day. And before you ask, we get to pick the payment. I don’t care what you two have to say, but full-size is always better than fun-size.”

The kids exchanged glances as if pondering whether six full-sized candy bars were a fair price for late-night ice cream and a sleepover, then nodded and extended their little hands.

“It’s a deal,” the future banker said.

Max and I shook hands with each of the children, settling the matter.

The rest of the meal revolved around plans for the sleepover and the creation of a shopping list of things we needed for Halloween—mainly candy to give out, popcorn, and four different flavors of ice cream for them.

Before I realized, it was ten in the morning and I was late for my sewing meeting with Molly. Max told me he’d take care of the kitchen and wished me an enjoyable day as I left the kitchen with my supplies.

As I crossed the yard that connected our homes, my stomach twisted into knots once more. I desperately wanted to turn around and go back home where it was safe, but I had to fix this mess before tomorrow. With a steadying breath, I knocked on her front door. Before I was ready, Molly opened it.

“Hi, dear,” she greeted, kissing me on both cheeks. I returned her greeting and followed her inside.

Her home was lovely, decorated in warm tones and classic furniture with photos of her family and nature lining the crisp white walls. Adding to the homey feeling was the warm scent of apple cider. Usually, that was my favorite smell in the entire world, but as most smells today, it didn’t sit well in my stomach.

“Thank you for helping me spruce the kids' costumes. I took a semester of sewing in high school, but my skills are not great.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “There’s nothing to thank. I love doing this kind of stuff, and with my daughter so far away in Texas, I’m happy to have a substitute here.” I smiled at her and she winked. “Also, it gives me a chance to ask you about your dad.”

I laughed. “Max told me you two met yesterday.”

As soon as I mentioned him, my cheeks flushed and my heart pounded. The elephant had officially entered the room.

Molly hooked her arm through mine as she guided me to the kitchen. “Should we talk about this morning or do you prefer to forget about it?”

Tears filled my eyes with how comforting and non-judgmental her tone was. “I’m not sure.”

She chuckled. “I get that. Secret affairs are always hard, especially when there arecomplications. So, how about we talk about it really quick and then forget about it?”

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