Page 67 of Until August

“I know. And I understand why. Remember that scan?” Her eyes met mine, and she didn’t have to tell me which scan she meant. It was the twenty-week scan. We expected a gender reveal but got much more than we bargained for. That scan told us Sage would be born with a congenital heart defect. “I was so scared, and you were….”

“What was I?” I asked, prompting her to finish her thought. I had no idea if she still had any good memories of me left or if they’d all been obliterated by the dark cloud, a.k.a. my prison sentence.

“Great. You were great,” she said with a soft smile. “You told me everything would be okay, and our love for him would be enough to get him over every obstacle. You said that we wouldn’t treat him like a sick kid. We would give him the best childhood that any kid could ask for. You stayed strong through it all, August. You were my rock. I could never have done it without you.” Tears shone in her eyes. “And even though I hated you for what you did, I will always be grateful for those first two and a half years when you showed up for Sage.”

I didn’t know how to handle her words or all the emotions they invoked. Truth was that I’d been scared shitless. But I was relieved to hear she’d never suspected how deep-seated my fears were about that diagnosis or what it would mean for our son’s future.

In relationships, I guess the two people involved kept secrets to protect each other.

Luckily, the doctor chose that moment to enter the room, saving me from having to respond.

* * *

By the time I returned to the restaurant, it was four o’clock already, and I felt like shit for deserting Nicola. But after Sasha was released, we picked up Sage from school, and I spent some time with my son. It felt weird driving Sage home from school, the three of us in my truck like a normal family.

When I was dropping them off, Travis FaceTimed. A much-needed dose of reality.

The past twenty-four hours had been an emotional overload—reuniting with Sage, listening to Nicola’s story, sex with Nicola.

Sex with Nicola.

It was quick and dirty and over all too soon for my liking. That was not how I’d anticipated it to happen. I almost felt I should apologize, but it wasn’t as if I’d forced myself on her. She’d wanted it as much as I had, so there was nothing to apologize for.

Although now, judging by her set jaw, it looked like she was having second thoughts. Was she angry with me?

Fuck. I didn’t know how to read her.

“Sorry about leaving like that. Won’t happen again.” I’d texted her a few hours ago and said something had come up but kept it vague. “I had an emergency. I needed to—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “Is everything okay now?”

She didn’t sound like she cared one way or the other, but I answered anyway, my eyes never straying from her face. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Good. That’s the only thing that matters.” She plastered on a fake smile, and I wanted to say more, but there were too many people around, and this wasn’t the time or place to have a private conversation. “Can you take care of the family meal tonight?” she asked coolly.

As if I didn’t do the family meal every night. “No problem.”

“Good.” She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me to wonder if she regretted having sex with me or if it was something else.

No sooner was she gone when Luca thrust a container against my chest. “Do these shallots pass your inspection,chef?” he asked in the smart-ass tone he sometimes used whenever I pointed out areas that needed improvement.

Namely the knife skills he was so proud of.

I looked down at the container of diced shallots. “They look fine.”

“That’s what you asked for.Finelydiced, right?”

“Right,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“Do you want to check the carrots I julienned? Just to make sure they pass your inspection?”

I looked him in the eye and kept my voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. “Lose the attitude, Luca. The recipe calls for finely diced shallots, and on Saturday, I noticed that yours were cut too roughly. I thought you’d correct it on Sunday, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but you didn’t, so I made a note on your prep sheet. That’s all it was. A simple reminder to do it the right way.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your way, you mean.”

“No. Not my way. The right way. There’s a difference, and you damn well know it. You’ve been doing it correctly all along. You slipped up. It’s no big deal. Let it go.” He stared at me in stony silence. I raised my brows. “Something else on your mind?”

He let out a breath and shook his head. “Nah. I’ve just been… a little distracted lately.”