Page 66 of Off the Beaten Path

“All done,” June says proudly, holding up the finished bracelet. It’s got red, yellow, and brown beads on it, along with three white letter beads.

“What’s it say, June Bug?” Wren asks.

“H, J, W,” June says. She points to me. “Holden.” Then herself. “June.” Then Wren. “And Wren. And I matched the beads to the color of our hair.”

Wren’s eyes meet mine.

“That’s really pretty, baby,” I say to June. “Why did you put all three of our initials on there?” I can feel my pulse in my throat, waiting for her to respond. June is getting attached, I can see that clearly. But for some reason, it doesn’t trigger the anxiety I would have guessed.

Because it’sWren.

June looks at me, confusion written on her features. “Because Wren is your girlfriend. Isn’t she?”

Wren’s watching me, no doubt trying to figure out how I’m taking this. So I let my eyes drift to hers for a moment, holding her gaze. She visibly softens, and something inside me warms knowing I was able to do that with just a look.

“If she was, June Bug, how would you feel about that?”

June’s focus shifts between Wren and me. “I love Wren,” she says simply.

Those words crack me wide open, because I’m worried I might feel the same way. That somehow my bright-as-sunshine next-door neighbor has wormed her way so far into my heart and my daughter’s heart that thinking about life without her feels like missing a limb.

“So you’d be okay with it?” Wren asks softly, and when my eyes catch on her, I can see the nerves holding her body taut.

June crinkles her nose. “Of course.”

Maybe I was wrong when I told Wren she’s mine. Because looking at my daughter now, at the way she’s staring at Wren with wide, trusting eyes, I know Wren isours.

Wren and June have the windows down in my truck, the chilly early spring evening air pouring in, their belting voices singing Taylor Swift pouring out. I can’t even bring myself to be annoyed, and I have a stupid, sappy smile on my lips the whole way home from the cabin.

That is, until I pull into the driveway and see an unfamiliar rental car parked ahead with a very familiar frame leaning against the hood.

Mia.

My blood runs cold at the sight of her, and I hate the way my heart stops the moment June sees her and yells, “Mommy!” She’s unbuckling her seat belt and sliding out of the truck before I can even turn the engine off.

Beside me, Wren is tense, her eyes meeting mine over the console before dashing out the windshield to focus on the woman in my driveway. My ex-wife. “So that’s Mia?”

I swallow, staring at the woman I once knew so well. “That’s Mia.”

I climb out of the truck, needing to get to June, before Wren has a chance to respond. Later, I know I’ll feel guilty for abandoning her, but June is my first priority right now. The passenger door closes a moment later, when I’m finally standing in front of my ex-wife, but I don’t hear the crunch of gravel of Wren coming to my side. Instead, I see a flash of strawberry red hair disappearing across the lawn separating our houses.

Before I can call for her to come back, Mia says, “Well, look who it is.” Her voice is low, husky, something I used to find attractive, but that now grates on my nerves. It’s nothing like the light, musical tone of Wren’s voice.

“Hi, Mia.”

June is wrapped around her legs, and Mia bends down to scoop her up. “How’s my girl?”

At one point, hearing Mia say that would have been everything I’d ever wanted, but now it feels like ice freezing in my veins, because I know June is onlyher girlwhen it’s convenient for her.

“I’ve been painting,” June says proudly, pointing to the sage green paint stain on her knee from when she and Wren finally came to help me. It feels wrong that just a half hour ago, the three of us were laughing and painting together, and now Wren is in her house alone, and June and I are here with Mia.

“Oh yeah?” Mia asks, brows shooting up high on her head. “What were you painting?”

“Wren’s cabin.”

Mia’s eyes dart in my direction before returning to June. “Who’s Wren?”

A smile stretches across June’s face, bright as a summer day. “Daddy’s girlfriend.”

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