“Better go. Gonna cuddle Ash until I no longer feel like throwing myself into the void. Um, Holden?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I, uh… Thank you.”
Something flickers across his expression, here then gone before I can interpret it. He just nods and ends the call.I love you, too. It’s too late, so I push myself to my feet and make my way back into the bedroom. Ashton waits until I’ve changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, then he scoots closer.
“Love you,” he whispers, burying his face into my side, and I can’t fight the tears any longer.
“I love you more than the rainbow, sweetie,” I say softly as I wrap my arms around him.
I hold him tight until he’s asleep. Even then, I don’t let go.
Days pass, and Ashton soon forgets about the incident. He quickly becomes the same cheery, laughing child I’ve loved for two years. His happy disposition should soothe my heart.
It doesn’t.
I don’t forget. The guilt still smothers me, especially when I’m alone—like I am now. I stare blankly at my laptop; the essay question sits on the screen, a line of blurred letters. I blink, and the words swim into focus.
“Monster incoming!” a voice calls from the foyer.
I sigh then plaster a smile onto my face as I turn in my seat. Phil, Samantha, and two toddlers enter the kitchen, and Phil sets Ashton on his feet. I open my arms in time for the toddler to launch himself at me. Kissing his cheek until he squeals, I let myself sink into the peacefulness that comes whenever he’s around.
“Oh, there’s my favorite little man. How was your playdate with Henry? Did you have fun?”
“Yes!”
Phil chuckles and takes the seat across from me. Samantha sits to his left, blanching when he announces, “He kinda ate part of a crayon.”
“You ate a crayon?” I ask Ashton, and he nods solemnly.
“Ick.”
“Yes, honey, it’s ick. Why don’t you go play for a bit with Henry? Auntie Dee needs to start making dinner.”
“Thanks for letting us stay,” Samantha says, and I wave her off. “No, seriously. It’s three more people to cook for.”
“It’s okay. Y’all are never an imposition. Besides, I always make too much stir-fry, enough to feed a few armies.”
“Is this the famous stir-fry Holden could never shut up about way back when?”
“That’s the one.”
I close my laptop and move it aside. With Samantha’s help, it takes little time to cut up the bell peppers and slice the onions, and I am soon enough sautéing them while Holden’s friend—our friend—mixes honey and soy sauce in a bowl. She sets the table while I finish scooping the vegetables and chicken into a large bowl. I carry the bowl and another full of rice to the table, calling for Phil and the boys. We’ve all just sat down when a low hum comes from the direction of the garage; a door creaks open moments later, and Holden’s voice fills the air.
“I’m home! And something smells amazing.”
I smile at Holden as he steps into the room, my heart settling in my chest. Ashton shrieks from his seat, and Holden crosses the room to brush a kiss to my cheek. Then he’s off to heft Ashton into his arms. Identical brilliant smiles split their faces, and I push aside the pitiful voice in my head that asks where my exuberant greeting is.
Phil catches my eye, cocks his head. I force a smile in response. I’m fine. I’m happy Holden is home. The heaviness, however, remains in my bones. I try to ignore it. This is nothing more than a small hiccup.
I’m not certain I believe myself. Not after the call last night.
It was normal, easygoing and full of eagerness for Holden’s arrival home. I’d spent the hour filled with the same sense of love and belonging I felt back in the beginning. But then we hung up. It wasn’t until almost two hours after I’d gone to bed, when I was lying wide-awake with a toddler’s feet pressed into my spine, that I realized Holden hadn’t said “I love you.” Instead, it had come in a text in the middle of the night, like an afterthought.
Sighing, I dole out a portion of food for Ashton while Samantha does the same for Henry. Holden takes his seat, launching into conversation with Phil. I glances at Samantha, and I want nothing more than to admit that there’s something wrong. It’s also the last thing I could stand to do.
The confession would only serve to disrupt the relative stability of my life, my relationship.
