“Poopies!” He kicks his chubby legs. “Poopies!”
“Okay, buddy. Thanks for the warning.”
Except for the toxic diaper, the morning goes smoothly, but by lunch time, Mila’s not wearing that bright smile anymore.
This little girl who never stops moving is staring out the back window, completely frozen.
I kneel down next to her. “What’s wrong, honey? You look worried.”
Her lips twist in her cherubic face. She waves me closer to whisper in my ear. “Can we make my daddy something to eat?”
I almost laugh, except the serious expression on her face tells me I shouldn’t. “What does he usually do for lunch?”
“My grandma makes him food.”
Ethan expressly told me I shouldn’t make him any meals, but that’s kind of weird if he’s used to coming into the house to eat. Whatishe doing for lunch?
Movement catches my eye in the back yard, and I look across the expansive field to the beautiful red barn where Ethan leads a horse to his stall.
Returning my attention to Mila, I give her a hug. “How about we make some extra food in case he comes in for lunch?”
She looks down, still frowning, and nods. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer she wants to hear.
“Mila, what would you like to do for your dad? What would make you happy?”
“Can we make him lunch and take it to him?”
This kid is too sweet.
“Of course we can.” And if he doesn’t want it? Too damn bad because I’m not sure I can tell her no.
Ethan
Logan and I toil side by side the entire morning, grooming horse after horse. I should be shitting rainbows after seeing how well the kids have taken to Tori, but the phone call I got from my lawyer this morning put me on edge again.
My brother takes a swig of his water bottle and wipes the sweat off his brow. “So it’s set then? When you guys go before the judge in a few weeks, it’ll be a done deal? You’ll be divorced?”
I grunt, hating the looming court date.
That word.Divorce. Sounds so final. I guess it is.
The misery of the last two years weighs on my heart, the failure of it reverberating through my bones. This isn’t what I wanted for my kids. Splitting time between two houses. Me worrying if they left their clothes or toys behind. Wondering what they’re doing. Hating that I’m not with them. I may work a lot now, but I can check on them a dozen times throughout the day and hear their laughter when they’re playing in the yard.
“You want me to come with you to court?” Logan chugs another drink and then douses his face. “I could tag along.”
He’s acting like we’re talking about grabbing a beer instead of ending my marriage. I could use his support, though. “Yeah. Thanks.”
As I brush out the mare, it settles in—how out of reach my dream of riding cutting horses competitively has become. I’ll never be able to do it again, at least not when the financial future of the ranch is so uncertain. And definitely not while I’m still figuring out how to be a single parent.
What tears at my conscience is how much my father wanted me to get back in the arena, but I don’t see how I can make that happen with all of the responsibilities I’m dealing with right now.
With a grimace, I pinch the bridge of my nose.I can’t even drown my sorrows with a good bottle of whiskey’cause I have so much shit to do.
We wash down one more mare before Logan breaks the silence. “Sandra keeps asking about you.”
I have no idea who he’s talking about, but he ignores my foul mood and keeps talking. “She’s that cute realtor we met at the Lone Star. The one who got divorced last year?” He sighs. “The one with the son?”
It takes me a minute but then I remember, mostly because I heard her ex was abusive, which pisses me off. I don’t understand how a man can hurt a woman.
