I let out a shaky breath. “Yes. I think I do. But it feels fast. Like I need time to be sure. Not just for me, but for Tate.”
She follows my gaze to Corbin and Tate at the table, both bent over a drawing. “Having his parents together is all he wants. And from the outside, Jules? It doesn’t look fast. It looks like coming home.”
I blink back sudden tears. “You really think this could work? That it’s not just nostalgia?”
“I think,” she says, squeezing my hand, “that love like this doesn’t happen twice. I think you and Corbin are stronger now. Wiser. I think this time, you’re building something together. Not just for Tate, but for yourselves.”
I glance at the living room again. At my paintings on the walls. The warmth in the kitchen. The laughter from the table.
She smiles. “And now that Corbin isn’t working for that snake of an ex-husband of mine, there’s one less thing standing in your way.”
“There is,” I whisper. “He’s so much happier now.”
“He is,” she agrees. “And I hear he’s learning espresso machines, too.”
I laugh. “He’s determined to figure it out.”
Deanna’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “This is all I ever hoped for you two. That you wouldn’t just share a life, but you’d build dreams. And help each other chase them.”
My throat tightens, and I can only nod. Because this? This feels like a dream worth chasing.
The doorbell rings, cutting off whatever Deanna might’ve said next. I see the moment wash over her face. The polite pivot from our intimate conversation to gracious host.
“I’ll get it,” she says, her tone warm and unbothered.
Corbin appears at my side, hands shoved in his pockets. There’s a slight tension in his jaw, one I recognize instantly.The kind that comes from bracing yourself for something unpleasant.
“This is going to be fun,” he murmurs, clearly unconvinced.
I reach for his hand, my fingers brushing his knuckles. “We have a lot of holidays ahead of us,” I remind him softly. “We’ve got to find a way to make this work. You and Sarge… you’re both my family. I’m all he has left.”
Corbin exhales slowly. The kind of breath that carries more than air—old grudges, unspoken worries, unresolved history.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “We’ll figure it out, Jules.”
From the entryway, we hear Deanna’s bright laugh. “It’s so nice to meet you, Trey,” she says, and I feel Corbin go still beside me.
“And you are?” she asks.
“Flor,” comes the woman’s reply, her voice light, lilting with a delicate accent.
Corbin doesn’t move, but I feel him bristle, his whole body subtly drawing inward. I squeeze his hand gently.
Deanna ushers them inside just as I turn, and it’s like we’ve stepped into a slightly warped version of a memory. Trey is as charming as ever, dressed smartly with a date on his arm who radiates poise and warmth.
Tate, of course, breaks the silence. “Hey, I know you!” he calls out with a wide grin.
“Hey, little man,” Trey returns, grinning as he reaches out for a fist bump. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” Tate says, then turns his bright eyes on Flor. “And who are you?”
“I’m Flor,” she says with a laugh, and Tate nods solemnly, absorbing this new information.
“I’m Tate. Trey had pizza with my mom once,” he announces, deadpan.
Heat floods my face. A beat of stunned silence follows, broken mercifully by Trey’s smooth cover. “We all did,” he says quickly, motioning between Corbin, Tate, and me. “Great pizza spot.”
If I had to guess, Flor doesn’t know about the brief, forgettable blip that was Trey and me. And thank God for that.
