My brother is observant. You have to be when you grow up walking on eggshells. You learn to recognize the subtle shift in someone’s mood, the flicker of an expression that warns of an impending outburst. That was life with our father before he left. Sometimes, I think that’s why Sarge is so overprotective. He doesn’t want me to feel that kind of fear ever again.
“It felt more like a public execution,” Sarge notes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Corbin didn’t seem happy I was here.”
“Corbin is…” I trail off, but the words don’t come. What is Corbin? A mistake? A regret? A memory I keep clinging to? He didn’t even flinch when I told him we could co-parent, have Wednesday night dinners together for Tate’s sake, but that was it. I should be grateful he respected the boundaries I set, but I hate that he didn’t push back.
He never fights for me.
Never has, Jules. Never will.
Then again, I don’t make it easy for him.
I thought he might at least try to explain why he’d sleep with me while he’s seeing Susan. He claims it’s casual, but the second I pushed, he shut down. That’s what Corbin does. Shuts down. Walks away. Files for divorce and blindsides you when you least expect it.
“I told him we needed to focus on Tate,” I finally say, my voice quieter now.
“And will he listen?” Sarge smirks, clearly skeptical.
My heart clenches. “Of course, he will.” Because that’s what Corbin does. He listens, he nods, he agrees. Because it’s easier than fighting. Because maybe he never really wanted this in the first place.
“He brought up Peggy Lou’s,” I tell him, changing the subject.
“Oh, shit.” Sarge’s brows lift. “You guys used to go there all the time.”
“It was awful,” I say, shaking my head. “The memories of that place.”
“I thought you had great memories of the diner.” Sarge frowns, clearly confused.
“I do,” I admit. That’s the problem.
I remember what it was like when we were young and madly in love. When our differences weren’t something to overcome, they were something exciting, something that kept us up all night talking, learning each other like a foreign language. When I couldn’t stand the hours we were apart.
It’s hard to love someone that much and end up here. Two strangers who share a child. Nothing else.
Sarge watches me carefully, like he’s gauging whether to push. Then, he exhales and shakes his head. “Like I said yesterday, you have to put yourself out there. Go on a date. Meet new people. There’s more to life than Corbin Banks.”
I blow out a breath, rolling the dough into a tight ball and placing it back in the bowl to rise in the warm window. “Maybe you’re right.”
Sarge grins. “You know I’m right.”
I don’t know if I believe that, but I do know I can’t keep standing here, letting myself get pulled into old routines. There are a lot of reasons I haven’t dated since the divorce. I wasn’t ready. I was too hurt. Tate needed me. I had to build a life that could support us.
I didn’t have time to think about anything else. I didn’t want to.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I guess you are.”
Sarge perks up. “Does this mean I can finally set you up with Trey?”
I groan. “Your friend?”
“He’s nice,” Sarge insists, grinning like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.
I hesitate for half a second before shrugging. “Alright. I’m free Sunday night.”
Sarge claps me on the back as I run a tired hand over my face.
“I knew you’d finally see the light of day, sis.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I fill coffee cups, bake pastries, and rearrange my office three times. Tate spends the afternoon working through his take-home assignments in the same booth where he sat with Corbin. Every time I glance over, I try not to let my emotions bleed through my skin and bones. But it’s hard when I think about the kind of family Corbin and I should have been building for Tate—one centered on mutual respect and understanding. One that made him feel safe. One that didn’t leave him forgetting things or asking to stay with one parent instead of the other.
