Page 109

I pick up my wine glass and hold it up, not saying anything. I hope this moment speaks for itself. He clinks his glass to mine, our eyes not leaving each other’s. It is bad luck not to, but now I’m having a hard time looking away. I clear my throat nervously and take a sip, looking to Josie, glad to have an excuse to look away.
We spend most of dinner watching Josie, laughing at how messy she eats and the silly faces she’s making at Marco. Afterward, Marco pats his stomach with a satisfied smile on his face.
“That was so good. I’d have thirds if I didn’t think I would burst.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” I say, starting to clear the table.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”
“You don’t have someone to do that for you?” I ask.
“Like a chef?” he asks with a laugh.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Nah. I live on takeout or dining out. This is really a treat for me, so thank you. Really.”
I bite back a smile. “You’re welcome.”
Marco offers to wash the dishes, but I wave him off, telling him to spend time with Josie. As I clean the kitchen, I watch as she proudly shows him all her toys, and each one he gets more and more excited about. He really is good at this.
After I’m done, he helps me with Josie’s bedtime routine. Bottle, bath, book, bed—the four Bs. He’s careful about everything, as if he might break her, which is really the sweetest thing. I have to admit it’s nice having someone to do this with. It’s not about the help really, though that’s a bonus, but it’s more about having someone here with me. It doesn’t feel so lonely.
Once Josie is settled in her crib, I walk out of the room, but notice Marco isn’t behind me. I turn and see him looking at her from the doorway, like he can’t get enough. I smile to myself and let him have his moment as I walk to the living room. A few moments later he joins me, awkwardly standing in the space between the living room and the hallway toward the door. He rocks on his heels before eventually looking at me.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“Thankyoufor helping with bedtime.”
He nods, looking down at the floor. It’s rare to see him this nervous. This unsure. It’s humbling, and it’s reeling in my heart like a damn fish.
“Do you think…”
I look at him expectantly.
“I could come over again tomorrow night?” he finally asks, his eyes looking up and searching mine. I swallow hard, trying not to get lost in them because if I do, I’d be the one inviting him to come over every night for forever.
“Sure,” I say.
I can tell he’s holding back a smile, but his dancing eyes give him away. He doesn’t have to say thank you because it’s written all over his face. And it doesn’t fade with each night he comes over, which is every night this week.
We fall into a little routine and I find myself growing more and more excited each time 6:30 p.m. rolls around. Even Josie anticipates the knock on the door. Every night is the same. He shows up with a bottle of wine and a new little gift for Josie. I cook dinner and weoohandawwover our daughter, before cleaning up and getting her ready for bed. I find myself growing more and more comfortable with him being there, but somehow more nervous just the same. Every accidental brush of a hand sends the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. It’slike my body is begging for more, but my brain is cautious. But even my caution is starting to wind down.
Marco begins to stay longer, even after Josie is asleep. We enjoy the rest of our wine on the couch over conversation that has started to stray away from our usual topic of Josie. Our eyes meet more often and they hold, making it harder and harder to look away. It’s almost impossible to not imagine what it would feel like to kiss him again when his gaze strays to my lips. There’s no denying this feeling I have when I’m with him. This spark that’s been there from the beginning, though I’ve tried desperately to put it out.
When he leaves, I find myself lying in bed thinking about him and how different things could have been if we both had made different choices. But we didn’t. After everything that’s happened, I feel foolish to think we can be anything other than co-parents. We’ve never been able to make it work. I can’t risk us ruining what we have going on for Josie’s sake.
Chapter 52
Marco
“Ihave to leave for a few days,” I say, taking a sip of wine as I try to gauge Erica’s reaction as she sits across from me on the couch. I see her face falter just for a second, and as much as I hate to see her frown, a part of me is glad. Does it mean she will miss me? She doesn’t let it show for long as she pulls her mouth into a weak line and gives me a nod.
“Business?” she asks.
“Yeah. Canada.”
“The U.S. just isn’t enough, huh?” she asks, smiling behind her glass of wine.