Page 19

E arly the next morning, I walked the perimeter of our home to double-check the gates and fencing. Rufus followed at my heels, tail wagging, unaware of the new weight I carried in my chest. I needed to ensure everything was secure and safe for all of us.

But Sloane would want to know why we needed the added security, and I refused to lie to her about Angie ever again.

As much as I was ashamed by the situation, as much as I wanted to handle it myself, as much as I didn't want Sloane to worry more than she already did…

I refused to keep this from her. I needed to talk with her before I did anything rash.

Besides, this was Sloane's house. Me peppering it with spyware gadgets and hidden cameras without so much as consulting her was not a winning strategy for regaining her trust .

No, I had to find the right time to tell her about what happened after she returned with the kids. Then we could combat it together. As a team.

After pacing the entire property thrice and debating if it was too soon, I pulled out my phone and texted Sloane.

Hope the kids are having fun. Tell them I miss them.

I didn’t expect a reply right away but a few minutes later, her message came.

They miss you too. Violet wants your help painting her project when we get back. Thank you for watching Rufus.

Her texts had been simple and cordial. But I read what she had woven between the words, and I clung to that frayed thread of hope as if it could save me from falling.

I threw myself into work at Master Builders for the rest of the day.

While on the job site, I barked orders at my guys like a grizzled drill sergeant.

Jose gave me a few wary glances, but he didn’t ask any questions.

We had been a team for long enough that he knew when to push and when to let me simmer.

That night, I sat outside the rental on a rickety lawn chair that wobbled with every movement. The sky above was bleeding into indigo. It was the kind of quiet dusk that should’ve felt peaceful… but nothing inside me was quiet.

I lit a cigar I didn’t even want and thought about the house I'd built for Sloane: our home.

Every inch of it had been designed with her in mind.

The wide kitchen windows so she could watch the kids play.

The deep tub because she loved long baths.

The walk-in closet she never filled because she always put the kids first.

Tomorrow, I would set about getting it ready for their return.

My phone buzzed.

Violet wants to FaceTime. You free?

Always

The screen lit up with Violet’s name and a little heart emoji she must’ve added herself. I answered immediately, my heart thudding with excited anticipation.

"Daddy!"

Her face filled the screen, eyes wide, hair wild from the humidity. Behind her, the hotel curtains fluttered with outlines of the theme park's mascot and Liam was bouncing on one of the beds, clearly hyped from a day of overstimulation and sugar.

"Hey, sweetheart," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "How’s the trip?"

Violet launched into a full report as if she were giving a school presentation.

"We saw the fireworks and I met so many princesses and Liam got a churro that was bigger than my arm and I rode the big swirly coaster and Mommy said I can keep the princess cup if I don’t lose it!

And Daddy? They have so much gluten free food here! ”

I laughed. "Well, sounds like you’re livin’ the dream."

She beamed for a moment, before looking up. Her hand shifted, then all I could see was the hotel ceiling.

"Violet? Sweetie?"

There was a moment of silence, then her voice came back in a whisper. "I miss you, Daddy. I wish you were here, too. "

That kicked me in the chest. "I miss you more," I whispered back, "but I’m really glad you’re having fun with your mom. That’s important."

The video shifted and Liam appeared then, his grin half-crooked. "Hey, dad. I beat that laser ride score."

"You didn’t ," Violet snapped, shoving his shoulder. "Your gun stopped working.”'

"I still beat it after I fixed it!”

The phone jostled wildly between them, spinning in dizzying angles as their laughter erupted into full-blown chaos. Somewhere in the mix I heard, “Give it back!” and, “Stop sitting on me!” before the screen tilted sideways and all I could see was a blur of carpet and limbs.

Violet's frantic voice shouted, “We’re trying to find the phone! Don’t hang up, Daddy.”

I smiled until my cheeks ached. Good God I missed them . Every loud, ridiculous second of being with them.

Then Violet’s upside-down face popped back into view, her hair flying everywhere. "Found you!"

Sloane's voice came from somewhere offscreen. "Okay, guys… say goodnight."

I stiffened as my heart stuttered from the sound of her voice. I wanted to ask how her day was, to see a glimpse of her face. But I knew the rules: she was in control. If Sloane hadn't shown herself on the call, it meant she didn't want to. And… I would have to accept that.

Violet frowned and pulled the phone close again, her voice urgent, “Wait, wait! Daddy, can we work on my project when I get back? It’s due next week and I want to paint it with you.”

Oh, my sweet, darling Violet. I have missed you so much for so long.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and forced a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “We’ll make it awesome. Pinky promise.”

She raised her pinky to the camera and I did the same as we forged our digital vow.

“Love you,” she said around a yawn. "Night, Daddy.”

“I love you, too. G'night, bud,” I added as Liam gave me a lazy wave.

The screen went dark and the quiet rushed back, but this time it didn’t feel quite as oppressive.

The next morning at Sloane's, sunlight poured through the kitchen windows to cut sharp angles across the counter.

I stood barefoot on the cold tile, coffee in hand, staring at the new curtains I'd hung up throughout the house as if they might offer answers.

That was a project Old Me had promised Sloane he would complete over a year ago, but he'd been too busy seeing how far he could shove his head up his own ass to get it done.

Rufus padded into the kitchen, his nails clicking against the floor and gave me that look of half expectation and half judgment.

“You think she’ll notice the curtains?” I asked him.

He tilted his head, almost voicing his opinion that I was an idiot for even asking.

"Yeah, you're right. Of course she'll notice them. She notices everything," I said as I scratched behind his ears.

Over the next few days, Rufus watched me with quiet patience as I worked on small repairs and renovations.

Aside from the curtains, I tackled a dozen little odds and ends around the house: tightened wobbly doorknobs, oiled squeaky hinges, fixed the loose towel rack in Liam's bathroom, installed a new garbage disposal, cleaned the gutters, adjusted the pantry shelves, patched, sanded, and painted the holes in the drywall .

All of it gave me an excuse to spend more time at the house, and I needed a series of projects to ease my anxiety after that fucked up night with Angie.

After three agonizing days without them, I'd run out of things to fix. Thankfully, Sloane texted me that morning they were on the road and what time they'd be home.

Fuck me, thank God. I was about to start building a goddamn gazebo in the backyard.

I spent that entire day riding waves of anticipation and anxiety while preparing the house.

I didn't just clean. I cleansed. As if I could erase guilt from scrubbing grout lines.

Every surface was spotless, polished, and shiny.

I ensured there were freshly washed sheets on every bed.

I lit new vanilla and cedar candles, Sloane's favorite, throughout the house.

I stocked both the fridge and pantry with everybody's preferred snacks.

I even rearranged the furniture in the living room the way Sloane had asked me to over six months ago.

I moved the clumpy old dog bed Rufus preferred, the only dog bed we could ever get him to sleep in, near the window.

“Don’t mind me, boy… just rearranging your kingdom.”

Rufus sniffed the old bed in the new location, then flopped down with a groan. He approved.

“Good boy,” I said while ruffling his ears. He let out a huff. “I know. I can’t fix everything with elbow grease and clean floors. But hell… I gotta start somewhere, right?”

He didn’t answer. Obviously . But it felt therapeutic to say my thoughts out loud.

That evening, as I prepared dinner, I heard the car doors slam followed by Violet's high-pitched giggle. The front door opened and Liam was in the middle of a sarcastic quip about a spilled slushie in the back seat. Sloane’s melodic voice, tired but patient, rose to calm them both.

My heart filled with trepidation and joy. I was a man on the outside of his own life, unable to move forward without their permission. Rufus sat at my feet, ever patient for the three days I cared for him, almost as if he truly understood my rambling one-sided conversations with him.

Violet burst in first, already launching into a story about the roller coaster that made her scream so loud it gave Liam a headache. She clung to me like she hadn’t seen me in a month, and I soaked it in.

"Daddy! Oh man, what did you do to the house?"

I laughed and said, "Thought you might appreciate the change. Hope that’s okay."

"It looks fabulous, Daddy!" She gave me another hug before bolting upstairs to unload her luggage.

Both Sloane and Liam stepped in together and my lungs forgot how to work when I saw Sloane. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a loose pony tail, wisps framing her face. She looked especially beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes.