by Souders, Tia
“Good,” he said, then began unloading the contents of his bag. “I stopped at a deli for sandwiches and got you a Rueben. I know they’re your favorite.”
“Uh, thanks,” she said as he nudged one toward her. There was so much history between them. This sandwich was just one of a million reminders that he knew her better than almost anyone. At least he used to. A lot had changed in the last four years—she had changed. Mel was no longer the same woman he left.
Unsettled, she knew she’d never be able to eat. Her stomach squeezed, and her insides threatened to riot as she watched him, seemingly content, unwrap his own food with gusto. “So, tell me about yourself,” Craig said. “I want to know how you’ve changed, everything I missed.”
The question took the wind from her lungs. Was he serious?
She eyed him like he’d lost his mind, then said, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions?”
He paused, his sandwich midway to his mouth, and lowered it, his eyes downcast. “Yeah.” He nodded, at least having the decency to look contrite. “I’m sorry. I guess I just . . . I wanted to hear about you and the kids before I explained myself. I was afraid that once I did, you’d send me on my way, and I wouldn’t ever get the chance to hear what your life’s been like.”
He blinked over at her. Silence stretched between them, and Mel hated that she had to be the one that started this conversation, but it was the only one worth having, the only one that mattered. “I need to know about the day you left,” she said.
Craig exhaled and leaned back on his hands. “That day . . . I didn’t even think. I didn’t take the time to consider the repercussions, like the fact that I was leaving you and the babies without medical care, or the fact that you’d have to deal with it all alone. I just told myself you were strong. And you had your parents. You could handle it.” He shook his head, his expression tight. “It was wrong. I was so wrong.”
Anger spiked her blood. “Yeah, you were.”
He met her eyes, his expression earnest. “I wish there was something I could say about why I left, some way to explain it to make it better, but there’s not. I was selfish. I was young and immature. I was scared at the prospect of being good enough for one child, let alone three. But there are no reasons that could justify it.”
“The one question that haunted me for so long was, Why? Why’d you do it?” A sad smile curled the corners of Mel’s lips before she shook her head, and it vanished. “I guess sometimes there aren’t really answers, at least not like you want there to be.”
She had tortured herself for years, hoping there was some sort of explanation to make it all better, to explain it all away. But there wasn’t. It was just as it seemed, a selfish, cowardly move.
Craig hung his head. “When we got home from the hospital, suddenly, it felt like we needed to know everything. There was no buffer or learning curve. We weren’t just preparing anymore. It was real. We had three babies, and I felt so much pressure to know what the heck I was doing, to support us. And I just . . . I made an excuse to get out of the apartment, and before I knew what I was doing, I was walking past the drugstore and gone.”
“Don’t you think I was scared too? You don’t think I had the same insecurities, the same fears, and thoughts?” Anger squeezed her lungs like a rubber band, threatening to snap. “But they needed us. What would have happened had I run too? They needed someone to step up. And we should’ve figured it out together. As husband and wife.”
Craig’s throat bobbed. “I know.”
Well, he hadn’t denied what a jerk he was. At least that was something. Too bad it wasn’t enough.
“I was weak, and you were so strong. You were always the stronger one,” he murmured.
Anger fisted around her heart. So because she was strong, and he was weak, she got the short end of the stick? He had asked her to forgive him, but how? There was too much damage. Some scar tissue was just too thick.
“Mel . . .” Craig reached out and grabbed her hand, and it took everything inside her not to shove him away. “Maybe I can’t ever give you a good enough explanation for why I left, but I can tell you why I came back.”
Her pulse pounded, and her hands clenched into fists under his touch. “Why?”
“After I left, I felt . . . lost. I travelled a bit and went to see some extended family that lives further south, trying to figure out what to do with myself. It took me a while to even settle down, to find a job, and start living again because guilt tends to weigh you down.”
Mel gave him a hard look as he continued, “But I did, eventually. Still, I led a hollow and empty life. Something was missing, yet I couldn’t bring myself to come back and admit how wrong I was. And then, one night after a late shift working on a house, I fell asleep at the wheel. When I came to, it was two days later in a hospital bed.”
He let go of her hand and pulled the neck of his shirt down to reveal his shoulders, then lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal his side. The skin was puckered and raised in angry red lashes.
When he lowered the thin cotton again, Mel swallowed. “How bad was it?” she asked.
“I almost died. But once I woke, my stay was long. When you have nothing to do but eat Jell-O and sit in a hospital bed, it gives you perspective. I did a lot of soul searching in the days that followed. Then, once I was a bit better, I was moved into a shared room. My roommate had kids and a family, and when they came to visit, it was like a light went off, and I knew. I was given a second lease on life, and this time, I couldn’t screw it up. I had to come find you. I had to prove myself to you and earn your forgiveness. I didn’t want an empty life anymore. I wanted my kids—a family. I wanted to do things right this time.”
Mel’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared over at him, unsure of what to say. Craig may have had an epiphany, but she hadn’t. His explanation might’ve made sense, but it did little to warm her heart toward him. What if he never got in that accident? Would he ever have come back? Did it even matter?
“I don’t even know how to begin forgiving you,” she said because there was no point in holding back, and despite her reluctance to open her life up to him, her gut told her he was telling the truth. And the truth was a start.
“Mel Bell. . .” Craig sighed, and the way he said her name, turned her stomach to knots. “I don’t expect you to forgive me with the snap of a finger. I know I need to earn your trust first and prove myself to you. I’m ready to do that, no matter how long it takes.”
“It could take years.” He may be sincere, but was he truly in this for the long haul? Craig had always been a sweet talker, and Mel was sure four years hadn’t changed his ability to say exactly what she wanted to hear.
“Even if it takes years, I’m in this. Mel, I’ve missed you. So much. I don’t expect miracles, but please, give me a chance to show you I can finally be the man and the father you need me to be. What do you say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MEL
Mel’s stomach twisted the entire ride home, unsure of whether she did the right thing by telling Craig he could come to the PopNewz party. Ever since he showed up last night, she’d been unsure of everything. But he’d requested to meet the kids, and something felt wrong about inviting him to her apartment—the home she’d built for them. It was too informal, too intimate, and the thought made her squirm. The party seemed like a compromise. It was public and formal, so there would be no awkwardness of the two of them alone, nor would it feel like she was moving too fast—allowing him into their lives too soon. She wasn’t ready for that. She only hoped Blake saw it the same way.
She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she entered her apartment building. She was doing this for her children, she reminded herself, even though it felt all wrong.
She unlocked her door and hurried inside. Laughter filled her ears—the most beautiful sound in the world—and her gaze swung instinctively to the source of it. There, in her tiny living room, stood Blake in a checked apron—ten sizes
too small because it was meant for Kinsley—and a white chef’s hat, serving up platters of plastic food to Peter and Brady, while Kinsley assisted with drinks.
Her heart melted like it always did at the sight of them. This is what a real father looks like, a little voice inside her said, but she shoved it away. Just because Blake was amazing with them didn’t mean Craig didn’t deserve a chance too.
“Ah, the madam of the house is home,” Blake said in a really bad imitation of a French accent. “Just in time for the main course.” Just then, he moved her to the couch and plopped a plate of plastic food in front of her. Mel smiled, but she was too tense after her afternoon with Craig for it to feel natural. And her discomfort must’ve showed because a moment later, Blake was giving the kids a task and whisking Mel away to the bedroom to talk.
Once inside, he closed the door partway, then turned to her, brown eyes blazing with worry as he removed the chef’s hat and apron. “Something’s wrong,” he said. No pretense, no beating around the bush, just straightforward Blake. “What is it?”
Mel sighed and laced her fingers behind her neck. The PopNewz party had already felt like an obligation, but at least with Blake there, she was looking forward to it. But now . . .
“You should know I told Craig he could come to the PopNewz thing tonight.” She bit her lip, glancing at him warily, waiting for his reaction, and when he visibly deflated, her stomach sunk.
He blinked his eyes closed, then opened them. “I’m sorry, but why?”
“He wanted to meet the kids, which was going to eventually happen, but I felt funny about him coming here. I wanted it to be somewhere public, with other people, where it wouldn’t feel so, I don’t know. Real? Pressured? Intimate?”
Blake stiffened at the last word. “Okay. I get that, but you and I were supposed to go together. Like, really together,” he said, motioning between them. “Or has that changed?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then why invite him there, of all places, tonight? You could’ve met him for coffee tomorrow, at the park again, or a million other public places with plenty of people. Instead you invited him on what was supposed to be our date?”
“I know it sounds stupid, and now that you’re saying that, I can see why you’re a little disappointed, but—”
Blake scoffed.
“—in the moment, it was the first thing that popped into my head.”
Blake nodded like he understood, and he smiled, but not the kind of smile that reached his eyes and lit them up. It was the kind that made his shoulders drop and his forehead crease.
He reached out and grasped her hands, staring down at them. “Are you sure it wasn’t the first thing that came to mind because now that he’s back, you’re having second thoughts about us?”
“What? No.” Mel urged him to look at her, but he just kept staring at their linked hands.
“Are you sure? Because when I asked you if you still loved him, you didn’t have an answer for me.” He finally glanced up at her, and the sorrow in his eyes nearly crushed her. “And now he’s back, and you’re wondering if maybe you shouldn’t give him another chance.”
“No.” Mel shook her head, racking her brain for something else to say, something to convince him, but the truth was, she’d been plagued with uncertainty since the moment Craig showed up outside her door. Nothing seemed safe at the moment. Nothing felt right.
“Did he ask you for another chance, Mel?”
Mel swallowed. “He wants a chance to be in the kid’s lives,” she stammered.
“Right,” he said softly, and his dark eyes nearly pierced into her soul. “But did he tell you he wanted another chance with you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Blake laughed, the sound dry and brittle like rustling leaves, then he dropped her hands and stepped away. “I’m afraid it might.”
“What he wants is irrelevant.”
“But it’s not, Mel,” Blake snapped, losing his composure for the first time since they started to talk. “Don’t you see? What he wants matters when you don’t even know what you want.”
“I want—”
“Don’t say you want me. You can’t possibly say that when he’s come back into your life and you’re not even sure how you feel about him. And the problem is, Mel, that I care too much about you to just stand by and watch you slowly fall back in love with him, slowly forgive him and learn to trust him again. I can’t do it. I can’t be with you while you’re only half in. I’d be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, always feeling like an outsider, and I was already in a relationship like that.”
“We’re different,” she said, stabbing him in the ribs. “Or at least you said we were.”
“You’re right. What I feel for you is different. We’d be different because we’re actually right for each other. Because I desperately want the life I could have with you.” His voice cracked. “Not just now or tomorrow or the next day, but every day, forever.”
Mel’s eyes widened. She took a step back until the back of her legs hit the bed. Did he just say. . .
“I should go.”
Mel blinked. “Will you still come tonight?”
Blake turned and shook his head. “You’ll have plenty of people there for a buffer. “I’ll see you Monday morning,” he said. “Our last week.” And then he left.
MEL TOLD CRAIG SHE’D meet him on the street corner just outside The Consoler, but she had half a mind to skip the party altogether. Ever since Blake left her apartment, she’d been a mess of tears and nerves. How could everything in her life be so right one minute, then go so wrong the next?
She kept replaying their conversation in her head over and over, if only to torture herself, analyzing it from every angle as if it might somehow change things. Why had she let Blake go so easily? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. For weeks, she sat idly by, slowly falling for him. The start of her day and when she got home were her two favorite times because it meant seeing Blake. With every conversation, every laugh, look, and touch, she had grown to love him more. Yet she let him go without much of a fight.
It wasn’t about this stupid party, though she saw his point. The real problem was that she couldn’t say the one thing he needed to hear—that she wasn’t still in love with Craig. Had she told him she had no feelings for Craig and there was no chance of ever allowing him back into her heart, he’d be by her side at that very moment, of that she was convinced, Craig or no Craig. Yet she couldn’t even give him that. Why?
“Hey.” The sound of Craig’s voice broke through Mel’s thoughts.
“Where are the kids?” he asked, eyeing the area around her for them.
She hooked a thumb toward the hotel. “One of my coworkers is entertaining them with punch and cookies inside.”
His face crumpled in relief. He didn’t ask where Blake was because Mel had failed to mention he would be there with her. Yet another red flag. Why hadn’t she told Craig she had a date? Maybe Blake was right, and she was holding back. The question was, Why?
“Ready?” she asked, shaking her thoughts free.
“More than ready.” Craig sidled up next to her, and they entered the hotel together.
By the time they entered the hall where the party was to be held, Mel’s nerves were at an all-time high. Her stomach roiled, and her chest pinched. Everything inside her wanted to run.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she was doing the right thing.
A million fears rose to the surface of her thoughts. What if he was a jerk? What if he hated the kids? What if he was rude to them? Or overly charming, which for some reason, seemed twice as bad. Everything her mind conjured turned her stomach, and she desperately wished for Blake’s presence at her side—to calm her, to help her get through this, to make the kids laugh, and turn her insides to mush.
Mel spotted the kids right where she left them. Sitting at a small round table with Caroline, eating from a plate of assorted cookies. Each of them sporting fruit
punch mustaches, and when she glanced over at Craig, she knew he saw them, too.
He paused, his steps frozen as he smiled and took them in, one by one, with bright eyes. Then he started walking again, and they reached the table far too soon.
Caroline acknowledged him first, glancing up at him with shrewd eyes. It hadn’t been a surprise that Craig had returned. As it turned out, Marti had called Caroline the night before out of concern, making her promise to watch after Mel the next few weeks while she was gone. And though Mel was a grown woman, it still felt good to know she had friends who cared enough to look out for her and give ex dirty looks.
Clearing her throat, Mel smiled at the kids as all attention turned on her and the new visitor. “Guys, I’d like you to meet someone.”
“Mommy,” Kinsley said, bobbing her head around them. “Where’s Mr. B?”
Mel swallowed. “Oh, uh, he couldn’t make it.”
Kinsley frowned and glanced accusingly at Craig. Brady and Peter, however, peered up at him like he was an animal at a zoo.
“Anyway,” Mel continued. “This is an old friend of Mommy’s. He came by to say hi and hang out with us tonight.”
Craig raised his hand and smiled. “Hi, guys!”
The boys stood and wandered closer, eyeing him curiously. Kinsley, on the other hand, stayed in her seat, glowering.
“Let me guess,” Craig said, kneeling down toward the boys. “You’re Peter,” he said to Brady. “And you’re Brady.”
“Nope,” Brady said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
Craig’s smile fell.
“I’m Brady.” Brady pointed to his chest indignantly, then crossed his arms, staring at Craig, not at all pleased with him having guessed wrong.
Craig flushed. “Bad guess. But I know you,” he said, gesturing toward Kinsley, “must be Kinsley.”
Kinsley merely nodded but stayed put, and Mel wondered if it wasn’t some kind of sixth sense that had her holding back.
