Page 25 of Absolution (Infidelty #3)

Jackie

Opening the front door, I’m instantly hit by the smell of garlic and cheese. Warm, familiar, heavy. For a second, I think I’ve walked into the wrong house.

I follow the scent into the kitchen and stop short.

Kyle’s in my apron, my actual apron, tied over his office shirt and pants, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s rinsing a pan in the sink, eyes focused, jaw tight. The oven is on. Dishes are stacked neatly beside him. The table’s been wiped down.

He turns when he hears me. “Hey,”

he says, trying to smile.

“Hey,”

I reply.

“Smells good?”

I say it like a question, because I’m confused. He’s not supposed to be here anymore, not cooking in this kitchen, not doing dishes like he never left.

He dries his hands on a towel, eyes darting.

“Sorry, I just… I couldn’t sit idle anymore.”

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, looking down at the towel in his hands.

“I, uh. I told them. About the divorce. Why it happened.”

“Oh.”

I shift my weight, unsure.

“What… what did they say?”

“I don’t know what I expected,”

he says, voice cracking.

“But the second I told them, it was like… I could see them losing respect for me. Right there. In their eyes.”

He swallows hard.

“They went upstairs. Haven’t come down since.”

I step forward instinctively, but he holds a hand up.

“No, sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this on you. It was me. My actions. And I need to take accountability. I keep saying I want to be better, but that doesn’t mean anything if I only do it when it’s easy.”

Kyle leans against the counter, staring at the floor like it’s got answers he never asked for. His voice is quieter this time, hoarse.

“It wasn’t just you I hurt, Jackie. It was them too. And I haven’t even told them about Duke yet. I don’t know how to do that.”

I watch him. There’s something about seeing him like this, unguarded, broken in a way that feels too raw. My chest aches. These were his actions, yes. But I don’t think he ever really believed that the kids would ever find out. I don’t think he thought he’d actually lose them.

“They still love you,”

I say quietly.

He lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“It’ll go away. The way I was? It’ll fade. All I’ll be is the guy who blew it.”

I shake my head.

“You might’ve been a sucky husband, Kyle. But you’re a good dad. They know that.”

His eyes flick up to mine.

Kyle doesn’t say anything. Just looks. Like he’s trying to figure out if I still see him the same way. If there’s any part of me that remembers the man before the betrayal. The one who made me laugh without trying. The one who talked me down whenever I spiralled. The one who, for a long time, I thought I’d grow old with.

The silence stretches.

I should look away, but I don’t. I can’t. His gaze is raw, searching. Not just for forgiveness, he knows better than to ask for that but for something else. A thread still tethering us, maybe. Something to prove we weren’t just a cautionary tale.

The kitchen hums around us, the refrigerator whirs, the faucet drips once, faint and rhythmic. Even the light feels different. Warmer. Softer. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Filling in the gaps where the words should be.

The oven timer blares, shrill and mechanical. It slices straight through the moment like a knife, loud and jarring. I blink, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

We both move at once, me brushing invisible lint off my jeans, him grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the lasagna out. The smell hits me, and stupidly, it almost makes me tear up.

God, I’ve always loved his lasagna.

I clear my throat.

“So, What happened at the school? With the kids?”

“Oh,”

he says, setting the dish on the counter.

“I guess there’s this kid, Tracy. In their class. She, uh… apparently knows Lucas.”

My spine straightens at hearing Lucas’ name from Kyle’s mouth.

He continues, quietly.

“The kids said Tracy made some comments. About you. About him. Said you were easy. That he didn’t even like kids. That you were just desperate.”

I close my eyes, feeling like shit.

“She said Lucas was gonna be their new stepdad. That he’d never let them see me again.”

I flinch. Then exhale.

“You know I’d never let that happen, right? Not that Lucas is...”

Kyle nods.

“Yeah, I know. And Lucas is a lucky guy.”

His voice goes soft.

“I just hope he doesn’t mess up and lose the best damn woman in the world.”

I freeze.

He said it like a throwaway line. Like something that’s just… true. But it lands in the middle of my chest like a weight.

Kyle unties the apron, folds it neatly like he hasn’t just shattered the air between us.

“Well. I should take off. I doubt they’ll come down while I’m here.”

He turns and walks off quietly, shoulders low. I hear the front door open, then slam shut.

I blink out of it and suddenly I’m moving, feet carrying me without thinking.

He’s at his car, door open, halfway in.

“How dare you say that!” I shout.

He turns, startled. “What?”

“That! That line. Best damn woman in the world.”

Kyle frowns, confused. “You are.”

“Don’t.”

I step closer.

“Don’t overcompensate now. You cheated on this ‘best damn woman,’ remember?”

“I know that!”

he says, voice rising.

“You think I don’t know that every time I see your face? Every time I go back to that fucking apartment?”

“Then why say it?” I snap.

“Because it’s true!”

he shouts, stepping forward.

“And because I can’t take it back, Jackie. I can’t rewrite what I did. But I can sure as hell regret it.”

We’re standing too close now. Breathing hard. Hearts pounding.

“You always do this,”

I say.

“You break something and then act like you can fix it.”

He shakes his head.

“No. No, I’m not trying to fix it. I’m just trying to say what I should’ve said a long time ago. I loved you. God, I still-”

He stops himself.

I stare at him. “Don’t.”

His jaw clenches.

“You don’t get to still love me, Kyle,”

I whisper.

“Not like that. Not when I had to bury who I was just to survive you.”

“I know,”

he says. His voice cracks. “I know.”

There’s a long pause. We’re still breathing each other’s air. Still caught between the ashes of what we had and the weight of what we lost.

Finally, I step back.

“Go home, Kyle.”

He nods. Quietly. Then gets into his car.

As he drives off, I stand in the driveway, fists clenched, heart full of a thousand things I didn’t say.

Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe not.

When I walk back into the house, the kitchen's already alive with noise. The kids are huddled around the island, forks in hand, shovelling lasagna straight out of the dish. No plates. No shame. Just ooohs and ahhhs between mouthfuls of bubbling hot cheese.

Instead of lecturing them about manners, I grab a fork and join them. I wedge in between Iris and Levi, stab a corner piece, and take a bite.

I close my eyes and groan.

“God. Your dad’s a great cook.”

All three forks pause midair.

I glance up to see them watching me like they’re waiting for the punchline. So, I shrug.

“He is. Your dad may have had a fatal flaw, but the man knows his way around a lasagna.”

Still chewing, Levi glances at his sisters before mumbling.

“We don’t wanna go to Dad’s next week.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

He shrugs.

“Because he…”

“Because he cheated,”

Iris cuts in, more bluntly.

I pause, chewing slowing, then say.

“Really? He cheated on you?”

“It’s not fair,”

Jemma jumps in.

“He betrayed you. So why should we have to go over there? He broke our family.”

That one lands like a slap. I put my fork down.

“Up until this morning,”

I say slowly.

“you thought I broke our family. Yet you stayed here.”

Jemma flushes, eyes dropping to the counter.

“It’s different,”

she mutters.

I nod, even though it stings. Then I take a deep breath and look at all three of them, really look. They act like little adults sometimes, but they’re barely twelve. Just babies playing grown-up with words too heavy for their shoulders.

“Look,”

I say gently.

“Your father made a series of mistakes as my husband. And yes, they cost him his marriage. But he didn’t make those mistakes as your dad. Did he?”

I look at Levi.

“He still came to your games.”

I turn to Iris.

“He sat through every band concert, even the ones you asked him not to record.”

Then Jemma.

“He helped you build that volcano that exploded all over the dining room.”

She cracks a reluctant smile.

“He is still your dad,”

I say firmly.

“Whatever happened between him and me is our business. Not yours. And I will never let that affect your relationship with him. Because he loves you. And I know you love him too.”

They’re quiet. Still holding their forks, still standing in that soft kitchen light, the air thick with more than just garlic and cheese.

Finally, Levi says.

“But it still hurts.”

I reach over and rub the back of his neck, pulling him close.

“I know, baby. It hurts me too.”

I let that sit for a second before I straighten up.

“Now, the other issue at hand. I heard what happened at school.”

All three of them instantly look away, cheeks pink, shame thick in the air. Jemma twirls a piece of hair. Iris fiddles with her fork. Levi stares at the oven like it might save him.

“I know it’s uncomfortable that I’ve been dating,”

I say gently.

“And I had no idea that this Tracy girl even knew Lucas. But I’m sorry you had to find out like that. That’s not how I wanted things to go. And I know it must’ve felt awful.”

I look at each of them in the eye when I say the next part.

“But I am an adult,”

I continue, my voice soft but firm.

“And adults get to make decisions about their lives. Sometimes those decisions are messy. Sometimes they affect other people. But I promise I’ve never done anything to hurt you on purpose.”

They don’t say anything. But they’re listening. That’s something.

“And I’m not seeing Lucas anymore,”

I add, watching their faces closely.

“So, there’s no chance of him being your stepdad. That ship has sailed. And I can assure you, no matter what, no one I date, and no one your dad dates, will ever come in the way of us being a family. No one.”

Jemma’s chewing the inside of her cheek. Iris is nodding slowly. Levi looks a little disappointed, but he hides it well.

“We’re all figuring this out,”

I say.

“Together. That means talking. That means asking questions instead of throwing punches. Deal?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jemma mutters.

“Dad’s not seeing anyone.”

I blink. “What?”

She shrugs.

“Grandma told Dad she could set him up with someone, but he said no. He said… he still loves you.”

The kitchen goes still. Even the lasagna stops bubbling like it’s listening too.

I exhale through my nose. Avoiding the moment, I say dryly.

“You’ve made a habit of eavesdropping, young lady.”

Jemma shrugs.

“Not my fault people talk loud.”

Iris cuts in.

“We don’t have school tomorrow.”

I raise a brow.

“Levi does.”

Levi groans.

“What? Why am I being punished?”

I grin.

“You’re not being punished. You didn’t throw anything. So…”

He slumps dramatically. “Unfair.”

I lean back, crossing my arms.

“You know, when I was your age, I got suspended once.”

All three of them freeze. “What?!”

they say in unison.

“Oh yeah,”

I say with mock pride.

“One day. For throwing a vial of paint at my cousin’s head.”

“Why?”

Levi asks, eyes wide.

“Because she told everyone who my crush was,”

I say, popping another bite of lasagna into my mouth.

“And I reacted… poorly.”

Jemma laughs into her hand.

“What happened after?”

“My mom and my aunt made us apologize to each other. In front of the whole school.”

I shake my head, smiling.

“Then they made us clean the paint I spilled. Off the floor. With toothbrushes.”

Jemma grimaces. “Brutal.”

Iris winces.

“That sounds worse than suspension.”

“Exactly,”

I say, pointing my fork at them.

“So, you guys are getting off easy.”

Levi sighs.

“That’s what I get for being the peacemaker.”

I pull him in again, ruffling his hair.

“And that’s why you get extra dessert.”

His face lights up instantly.

Jemma leans her chin on her palm.

“I miss Grandma.”

Iris adds softly.

“Grandpa too.”

I pause, my heart catching for a second. I reach across the table, brushing Jemma’s wrist gently. “Me too,”

I say.

“All the time.”

For a moment, the mood shifts, its soft, bittersweet, but it doesn’t linger long.

Then Jemma lifts her head again.

“So… you’re really not seeing Lucas anymore?”

I nod.

“I’m really not. He’s a good guy, but I realized I’m not ready for anything more than us right now. You three are my focus. Always.”

They go quiet again, but it’s softer now. Not heavy. Just processing. Letting it settle.

I nudge the lasagna pan forward.

“Now. Plates. Or forks in the sink. Your choice.”

Groaning, they finally get up and grab dishes from the cabinet.

And just like that, the night moves on, messy, imperfect, ours.