Sarge.
Of course.
“We should go there for breakfast one day,” Tate suggests, shifting Jules’ attention back to him.
“Maybe,” she mutters, distracted.
“What kind of ice cream would you get?” I ask, keeping the conversation going.
Tate taps a finger against his chin. “Rocky Road.”
I chuckle. “Yeah?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“I know,” I tell him.
The coffee shop door dings, and Tate’s face lights up. “It’s Mr. Red!”
I glance toward the entrance and spot a white-haired man in a red sweatshirt.
“Mom.” Tate tugs at her arm. “Can I go say hi? He said he’d bring me a snake skin today.”
Jules clicks her tongue. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Tate scrambles out of the booth, climbing over her in his eagerness.
I glance over my shoulder as Tate rushes toward the older gentleman in the red sweatshirt.
“Snake skin, huh?” I ask, turning back to Jules.
She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah. Don’t even start.”
I should let it go. But the way she looks at me, her lips pressed into a firm line, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she’s bracing for something. I can’t.
“Jules—"
“What are we doing, Corbin?” she asks quietly.
I lean back in the booth, exhaling. “Trying to be good co-parents.”
She lets out a hollow laugh. “How can you just sit there and act like this is normal?”
“It’s not easy for me,” I tell her.
She scoffs, shaking her head. “You make it look easy.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not.”
I want to reach across the table, take her hand, trace circles over her wrist like I used to when she was overwhelmed. But I can’t. That’s not what we are anymore.
Jules looks away, exhaling through her nose like she’s trying to rein herself in. “What happened the other night was a mistake. A slip-up. It won’t happen again.”
My chest tightens, but I nod. “Okay.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine, like she wasn’t expecting me to agree so easily.
“We have a son who needs us to be better for him,” she says, firmer now, like she’s convincing herself as much as she is me.
