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“It is closer to everyone,” Mom agrees, supporting my fictitious excuse.

“I suppose it’s easier for Derek to pop over from the office, too,” Cheryl says.

My breath stutters, and thankfully Elaine and Lane are coming through the door at that exact moment.

“We made it!” she calls cheerfully, and Lane makes a beeline to the little boys. “Where’s my mimosa?”

“Good idea,” I say, heading for the kitchen.

My hands shake violently as I reach for the cava. It’s only a matter of momen

ts before he’ll walk through the door, and I’ll have to face him. What the hell made me think I could do this? I should’ve insisted he wait to visit Dex at a later time when I could be elsewhere. Several deep breaths, I have to compose myself. It might have made things easier for me, but I couldn’t ban him from the party. It would be too cruel, and Dex would want his daddy.

Tears threaten in my eyes, and I quickly pop the cork. Elaine walks up behind me. “How’s it going?” Her voice is low, concerned.

“Okay,” I nod as I pour an inch of cava into her glass of orange juice. I take my wine straight, sipping it fast. “If I can make it through this party.”

A low voice from the living room interrupts my sentence. My heart stops then restarts beating painfully fast. In a gulp, I finish the rest of my wine and quickly pour another glass.

Elaine’s green eyes are fixed, and she holds my forearm. “Ready?”

Taking another sip, I see my hand tremble too much, and I set the flute on the counter. “I don’t have a choice.”

Holding hands, we start back for the living room. Rounding the corner, my entire body flushes with heat when I see him. He’s wearing dark jeans and a long-sleeved chambray button-down shirt under a brown tweed blazer. The shirt makes his eyes glow and the blazer accents the natural highlights in his dark hair. It’s ridiculous that he looks even more handsome than when I saw him two days ago. He’s carrying a soft brown teddy bear with a huge blue bow and a bouquet of red and white roses. I have to look away quickly before I lose the tiny bit of control I’m desperately clinging to.

“Oh, Derek, they’re beautiful.” Mom takes the flowers, holding his arm as if it’s a lifeline. “Did you drive straight in?”

“Yes,” his low voice cuts through me, and I can feel his gaze on my skin. “Had to get an early start, but I wouldn’t miss Dex’s party.”

“Were you out of town?” Hannah’s sitting on the floor near the boys.

“I had some business to take care of in Princeton,” he answers, and his long explanation last night on the phone of exactly what he was doing filters through my mind.

It’s too late, I stubbornly argue. Am I going to set the precedent that every time I need him to take me seriously, I have to throw him out of the house? My thoughts swirl with frustration and anger, and I realize Mom is asking me something.

“I’m sorry?” I say, blinking up to her.

“I said would you get Derek a drink?” My eyes land on his and lightning flashes to my toes.

“I-I...” I’m trying to recover when Elaine jumps in and rescues me.

“I’ll take care of it. Mimosa, Derek?”

“Just a soft drink will be fine.”

“Anybody else?” My best friend makes her way through the room, and I glance over at the clock. Fifty more minutes.

“We can head into the kitchen for cake if everybody’s ready,” I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound so fragile.

“You ready for cake, Dex?” Derek squats down beside our son, who suddenly recognizes his presence.

“Day!” Dex squeals and holds Derek’s shoulders, trying to climb him. Derek laughs, and my stomach cramps. I turn and head to the kitchen to light the candles.

An hour has never gone by so quickly. The little boys are full of cake and ice cream, goodie bags are passed out, and they’re chasing each other around the coffee table as Hannah and Cheryl say goodbye and snag their little guys. Mom sees them to the door, and I busy myself cleaning up.

Elaine has done her best to run interference between Derek and me the entire party, trapping him in the living room with discussions of all things Patrick, Stuart, little boys, buying a condo versus buying a house, car buying versus car leasing, basketball or football, fly fishing... I swear to god, if she feels responsible for our present situation, she’s redeemed herself a thousand-fold today.

Lane’s whining is the only thing able to pull her from between my ex-fiancé and me. “I guess I’d better get him home,” she says, and I can hear the worry in her voice. “Do you want to come with me, Derek? I’m sure Patrick wants to see you.”