Feels Like Home

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  “No way,” he says, eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, yeah. She was so mad that she had been swindled.” I giggle, remembering the look of horror on the Santa’s face as well as the elves’. “The kids still in line started screaming, and we had several parents walk up to us and thank us — very sarcastically, mind you. Although a few of them I think were genuinely thankful that they no longer had to worry about standing in that dreaded line again.”

  “Oh, man,” he chortles, leaning over the railing that overlooks the center of the mall where Santa is sitting. “I think I love your daughter. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It was pretty awesome. Needless to say, she never asked to sit on Santa’s lap again.”

  “I bet,” he says, smiling at me.

  We watch the line for a few more minutes before Andy turns to me. “I have an idea before we head out.”

  “Okay?”

  He tugs on my hand as we head down the escalator, past the Santa and flustered parents waiting in line with their impatient children. We share a knowing smile but continue walking until he comes to the store he was apparently looking for.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Trust me,” he says, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Good afternoon,” the sales lady welcomes us into their tiny little nook in the corner of the mall. “Is there something I can help you two find?”

  I start to shake my head, but Andy squeezes my hand. “Kind of wore the old mattress out so we’re needing a new one.”

  My eyes widen as his suggestive tone, combined with the waggle of his eyebrows to the poor saleslady who can’t take her eyes off him.

  Not that I blame her.

  We walk around the small store for a few minutes before he flops down on a mattress, flipping and flopping around like a fish out of water.

  “Hear that babe? No squeaks! The kids won’t hear a thing!”

  I.

  Could.

  Die.

  Of.

  Embarrassment.

  I groan, dropping my head into my hands.

  “Mm hmm. I hear.”

  “Come on! Test it out with me,” he says, grinning ear to ear and crawling over the mattress on his hands and knees to get to me before reaching out and pulling me down on the bed with him.

  I lie there, my body bouncing around while he continues his test run of the bed.

  I risk a glance at the saleslady, who’s stifling laughter.

  There are a few other customers in the store, the men laughing, the women staring at Andy.

  The dork.

  When he’s satisfied with his fun, he rolls off the bed, me doubling over in laughter, needing his help to get off the bed.

  “Fun, right?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Right.”

  “Oh, admit it, I make for a good shopping date,” he teases.

  I can’t deny it, though my heart is definitely caught up on the word date. He made battling the crowds of holiday shoppers fun and light hearted.

  He tried on scarves and sweater cardigans that he was looking at for his mom, claiming that they had the same coloring so then he would know for sure if it would look good on her. He smelled candles and read the blurb on the back of about twenty books — out loud — before finally choosing one.

  “I have to go to the pet store to get the boys their last gift but want to do dinner first? I’m starving.”

  He had told me on the way to the mall that he was surprising the boys with a huge aquarium and a pet turtle. Something they’ve wanted for a long time now.

  “Of course you are. You haven’t eaten in like two hours.”

  “I’m a growing boy!”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “So. Dinner? Then the pet store?”

  “Good plan.”

  All in all, it was a great day. We were both able to finish our Christmas shopping, and we ended the day eating burgers and fries before we picked up a turtle.

  Words I never thought I’d say tumble out of my mouth, “That turtle is actually really cute.”

  “Right? So ugly it’s cute.”

  When he pulls up next to my car still parked behind the coffee shop, I hesitate just long enough for him to speak up.

  “Thank you for coming along today.”

  “Thank you for asking me.”

  He blows out a breath and rests his head on the back of his seat, watching me watching him. “Lawyer drew up the papers,” he says out of the blue, his voice low. He already told me, but it’s obviously still on his mind.

  “Are you okay?” I ask quietly.

  “More than okay. Not that she gives a shit, but I’m asking for full custody. My lawyer doesn’t think it will be an issue, considering she’s all but abandoned her kids. But I don’t have a place to serve her. Not until we figure out where she’s staying.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Starting to move forward. I want it behind me. Her behind me.”

  I reach over the console and squeeze his forearm, and he closes his eyes.

  We sit in silence for a few beats until the back door to the shop swings open, Paul, one of the college students, bringing a bag of garbage out to the dumpster.

  He notices Andy’s pickup truck parked and still running and stares for a bit before he sees me waving to let him know it’s me then waves a hand in return and walks back inside.

  Andy and I climb out of the pickup, and he comes around to help me place my bags in my car. I start it up so it has a few minutes to warm up before I head home.

  “Thank you for coming along today,” he repeats his earlier words.

  “You already said that.”

  “It was worth repeating.”

  “I’m glad you asked me. I had fun.”

  “Told you I was a fun date.”

  I glance away then back to him. “Christine?”

  “Andy?”

  “I won’t ask you now. But you gotta know, when I’m free of Heather?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be ready.”

  8

  Christine

  It’s New Year’s Eve, and my pathetic self is sitting cross legged, a tray of junk food sitting on the right side of the bed, the ball dropping in New York City on my TV screen.

  My phone vibrates on the tray, buzzing around like an angry hornet.

  I lift it up and smile, seeing Andy’s name lighting up my phone as confetti covers my TV screen.

  “Andy.”

  “It’s midnight.”

  “It is.”

  “New year. New beginning.”

  “Yeah.”

  “New beginning,” he repeats.

  “You drunk?”

  “No. I did not partake tonight. Needed to be sober so I could get my boys from the party they went to. Which I haven’t picked them up from yet. Because they have lives. And their dad does not.”

  “Oh, please. You have a life.”

  “This is partly true. The life I had? Not so great. The life I see coming? It’s pretty damn great.”

  A shiver rolls through me at his words.

  “And what do you see coming in your life, Andy Simpson?”

  “You.”

  Since that midnight phone call, we’ve talked every day. It’s been over a month, and there hasn’t been a single day that we haven’t spoken, texted, or seen each other.

  One night when the boys were at a friend’s house for the evening, he called and by the sound of his voice, I knew it was going to be different from our lighthearted calls. We talked for hours about nothing and everything. And in those quiet moments over the phone where we both admitted we were lying in bed while talking, he confessed things that I can only imagine were bothering him for a while.

  The admission that had me sitting up straight in bed, flush and thinking things I had no business thinking, was that he hadn’t had sex in almost a year. They hadn’t had sex in almost a year. She had. Obviously.

  And what sho
cked me even more was that he said it didn’t bother him.

  He lost all sense of affection toward her years ago and had simply lost the desire.

  At least with her.

  His quiet murmur that his desire was back again had me aching for him to be near me.

  After that, our late-night confessions became our thing.

  Some were silly and at risk of a teenage sleepover truth or dare.

  Others were pushing the boundaries of friendship.

  Celebrity crush: Teenage sleepover. (Though, when he told me Mila Kunis was his, I was glad we were on the phone so he couldn’t see my blush, considering that he’s told me more than once I resemble her.)

  What we wear to bed: Boundary pusher.

  What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened: Teenage sleepover.

  Song that turns us on: Boundary pusher.

  First kiss: Teenage sleepover.

  Our favorite sexual positions: Boundary pusher.

  And on and on they went. Admitting our deepest, darkest insecurities to making each other say what we liked about ourselves.

  It was a combination of a therapy session and friendship building.

  And I loved every single minute of it.

  A few times he would call when Bri wasn’t home yet from a date with Grady and she would see me talking to him when she walked in the door. The first few times she simply smiled, kissed me on the cheek and went to her room.

  The third time it happened, she walked over, leaned close so Andy could hear through the receiver and said, “It’s almost past her curfew, young man.” He laughed in response, and she giggled at herself, kissed me, and said good night.

  The next morning, she told me she liked seeing me happy again.

  When I hear a ringtone that I know I didn’t set for myself, I scramble to answer it.

  “Hey, Andy,” I answer after sliding the phone out of my apron pocket, continuing to work the cinnamon roll dough.

  “What’s up, buttercup?”

  I laugh but still respond. “Not much. What’s shakin’ bacon?”

  He chuckles. “Nice one.”

  “Thanks. Nice ringtone, by the way.”

  “How’d you know I had anything to do with it?”

  “Uhh, who else would have changed my ringtone to Pillowtalk?”

  His answering chuckle has me blushing. Again.

  Funny how I’m a grown woman and blush like it’s my first crush.

  Which yeah, I’ve finally admitted to myself having.

  An enormous crush on Andy.

  He clears his throat. “So, I have a question.”

  “Shoot,” I tell him, adjusting the phone on my shoulder while I knead and roll the dough.

  “Would you be up for meeting the boys?”

  I drop the phone on the counter into the dough and rush to pick it up, flour covering my hands. As soon as I have it back to my ear, I grab the closest towel and wipe my hands clean then motion to Emma to finish the cinnamon rolls for me.

  It seems like she’s always picking up where I’m leaving off lately. Especially when Andy is on the other end of what I drop work for.

  She looks at me funny before I mouth Andy to her as I point to the phone.

  She makes a kissy face at me, and I hip bump her while I’m making my way past her, to which she replies by cackling in return.

  Brat.

  Obviously, I may have been denying it to myself that I had a super crush on Andy — but I was doing a shit job at hiding it from those around me.

  I knew good and well that’s what was happening, but I didn’t realize the extent of which it had built to.

  “What?” I ask while I’m walking to my office for some privacy.

  “Did you really not hear me, or are you just confirming what I asked?”

  “Just confirming,” I murmur.

  He laughs, which has my body warming.

  “So, would you?”

  “Now?” I ask on a shriek.

  “Uh, kind of figured you could come over tonight. Not like this exact instant. And bring Bri. I think it’s time I meet her also. At least, officially.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?” he asks, hurt in his voice.

  I shrug even though he can’t see me.

  “I’m not fighting it, Andy,” I promise him.

  “I want my boys to know you, Christine. And I want to know Bri.”

  “You’re not divorced yet,” I remind him.

  “You think I give a shit about Heather?” His voice is a cross between shocked and angry, and I feel a little guilty, but he needs to be thinking clearly.

  “You should. If she catches wind that you and I are…”

  “Are?” he asks, prompting me with a teasing lilt to his voice.

  “Well, um…” I stumble around for words. “That’s we’re…” I don’t know what we are. I know what I want to be. But I’m much further along in my single status than he is.

  “Christine. I like you.”

  I suck in a breath and spin around in my office chair.

  “Do you like me?”

  “Did you want Carly to pass me a note in class so I can check off yes or no?” I tease him.

  He chuckles again. “I know I’m not divorced. Yet. But I’m not asking you on a date. Yet. Truth time?”

  “Always.”

  “We’re not dating but we’re dating, yeah?”

  I hum a response because nothing is official, but it’s very clear there’s something happening between us. Him asking me to meet his kids just solidifies that.

  “Right. We’re not official, but I want to be with you. I want you to meet my kids, and I think it would be nice for all of us to get to know each other a little better. The five of us. It’s time, Christine.”

  “Okay,” I find myself saying, though knowing that I would have said yes anyway.

  He doesn’t hesitate or gloat that he got me to say yes so easily. “Seven o’clock. Just bring yourselves.”

  9

  Andy

  “Come on, boys! They’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

  “Dad. Calm down. We’ve met Christine before,” Reece says with a roll of his eyes.

  They don’t understand the significance of tonight. Hell, maybe Christine doesn’t either. But I served Heather divorce papers today, and now that the ball is rolling, I’m not willing to back off on setting my sights on something I want.

  And I want Christine.

  Not even knowing my boys, she worries over them.

  Asks about them.

  Wants to know what’s happening in their lives.

  And me not knowing Bri, I feel the same.

  We talk every day.

  Multiple times.

  I know that Bri is looking at colleges near home and that she and Grady are growing closer by the day.

  I know that she wants to go to school for Communications and is both nervous and excited about the change, much like Christine is.

  Christine knows that the boys play basketball and knows how their season is going.

  She knows how they’re doing in school, asks how tests or certain projects and assignments went after I had mentioned them.

  She knows their favorite foods and what vlogger they’re currently following and, even though they’re boys and she only has a girl, knows that puberty is a son of a bitch to deal with, especially as a single parent, and helps me understand that my kids were not, in fact, abducted by aliens.

  But it’s more than just our mutual single parenthood that has me wanting to find out everything I can about her, and get to know her better, and… yeah, eventually really get to know her better.

  It’s the fact that she’s kind and gentle and her genuine smile lights up my day.

  It’s the happiness that radiates from her.

  And it doesn’t hurt that she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.

  So, yeah.

  I want more with her.

  I want everythin
g with her.

  But I’m not jumping into anything.

  What we have already is great.

  I’ll take the rest as slowly as we need.

  But when those divorce papers are signed, I’ll have a hard time not speeding that timeline along.

  I won’t do a thing until the divorce is final, though. Even if our marriage ended long ago, I won’t do that to Christine. Or me, for that matter. I’m not a cheater and having the ink dried on the papers is just something that I need to have before I move that one final step forward.

  I blink at the boys and look around the house.

  The house we’ve turned into our home over the last few months.

  No sign of Heather anywhere.

  They won’t let me put up any pictures of their mom.

  Tess came over and helped make it, in her words, not a stinky man cave, but otherwise it’s all us.

  Our living room is simple.

  Chocolate brown oversized leather furniture.

  Large flat screen TV with a sound system set up.

  Video game console on the rustic wooden TV stand I built below.

  On the wall, there’s a collage of pictures of the boys.

  In the corner is the stand for the aquarium that houses the boys’ turtle, Harry. How ironic his name is, is not lost on anyone, trust me.

  Something Heather always said no to, but they had been wanting for years.

  Their wish came true on Christmas morning, and the joy on their faces was worth it. I had been dreading that day since their birthday came and went without a single call from their mother.

  Having Christine help me get the final touches of Christmas gifts ready helped more than I think she would ever know.

  Christmas Day proved that they were moving on when they were happy, laughing. Despite her absence. When neither of them asked for Heather.

  And I could do the same.

  “Yo! Dad!” I hear Aidan’s voice interrupt my thoughts, laughing at me.

  “What’s up?”

  “What’s up with the weird looks you’ve been getting on your face lately?”

  I decide not to tell him that on more than one occasion they’ve caught me daydreaming about Christine.

  “You ready?” I ask them both instead.