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“You ready?” Jules asks, her voice laced with amusement.

“For?” I arch an eyebrow.

“Your face painting,” she laughs, reaching for a brush.

I set the cake down on the nearby table and slide into the chair across from her. Jules narrows her eyes, tapping a finger against her chin as she considers. “Devil horns?”

Tate immediately doubles over, clutching his stomach as he howls with laughter. Beside him, Leo rests an elbow on Jules’ shoulder, grinning.

“What about a shark?” Leo suggests, giving Jules a light pat.

“A monkey!” Tate chimes in, his excitement bouncing off the walls.

Jules tilts her head, waiting for my verdict. “Well?”

I lean forward, my voice low and deliberate. “Surprise me.”

Her hazelnut eyes darken slightly, a slow smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”

Then she scoots her chair closer, her knees brushing the outside of my thighs. My hands instinctively find purchase on her jean-clad legs, thumbs grazing over the fabric in slow, absentminded strokes. Jules doesn’t pull away. Instead, she dips her brush into the paint, her free hand tilting my chin as she concentrates.

She chews her bottom lip while she works, the same way she always does when she’s focused. Her fingers rest lightly on my jaw as she drags the paintbrush across my cheek, careful and precise.

I watch her, my pulse thrumming.

Tate and Leo hover behind her, their small faces betraying nothing of what she’s creating. But I hardly care. The only thing I care about right now is Jules—her scent of coffee beans and vanilla, the way the golden glow of the setting sun outlines her auburn curls, the feel of her legs beneath my hands.

I almost tell her.

Almost tell her I’m sorry. That I never should have let her go. That I let my own cowardice and insecurities push her away. That I didn’t understand back then what I know now. That marriage isn’t about one person leading while the other follows. It’s about walking side by side. About making decisions together.

She never even wanted to buy the house.

She wanted to be near the water, maybe in a different state. I should have listened. I should have done better.

Instead, I let my father’s voice dictate what stability should look like, and I didn’t see that what Jules and I had—what we built—was stability.

I should have fought for her.

Jules finally sets down the brush and reaches for the mirror. “All done.”

Her smile is small but warm as she hands it to me.

I keep one hand on her thigh as I take the mirror, tilting my head as I take in my reflection. A snake winds its way up my cheek, curling over my forehead. I should’ve known she’d make sure Tate and I matched.

I chuckle, handing her back the mirror. “Clever.”

“I thought so.”

The space between us crackles. Her lips part slightly, and my fingers tighten on her thigh. I want to kiss her. Right here, in front of everyone. But I can’t. Not with Tate watching. Not with the entire festival buzzing around us.

So instead, I squeeze her leg—gentle, lingering.

“I’ll take the boys through the haunted house again,” I offer, standing.

Jules glances toward Tate and Leo, who are already buzzing with anticipation. “They’ll love that.”

“Join us?” I ask.