Page 87 of Push

“But the card said—” I bit my lip.That card. I knew it wasn’t from Toby.

“Said what?”

“Nothing.”

“Gwen, comeon…” His nostrils flared. Frustration? Disappointment? I wasn’t sure which, but he wasn’t happy. “I thought we moved past this. Please, don’t shut me out again. I can’t handle it.”

I slumped in my chair. Toby was right. I had to stop keeping secrets. Even if we never got back together, we needed to be good parents to Noah, which meant learning how to talk it out, even when it was tough.

Sighing, I reached across the desk to grab the card. “The card says…Today’s your new start. You’re an inspiration. So proud of you…” I swallowed.“Beautiful.”

Toby’s eyes squeezed shut. He took a deep breath before he looked at me again and asked, “Ian?”

“He wouldn’t…”

“Yeah, right. Just like how he wouldn’t hurt you when you told him to stop, right?” Toby shook his head as he forced in anotherdeep breath. He was battling to calm down. “Sorry, doll. Ignore me. I’ll sort myself out.”

In the old days, if Toby were upset or stressed, I’d promise him a kiss when I got home, and he’d smile and crack a dirty joke, but his breathing would even out, and he’d be calm in no time.

But we were wading through the quicksand of new territory. I couldn’t promise him a kiss. I could barely promise him that I wouldn’t storm out of the room every time I looked at him because remembering what he did still hurt so much.

“Did you see Ian at work yesterday?” I asked him.

“Nope. He called in sick. The less I see of that motherfuc—” Toby’s face twisted in a grimace. He pecked a kiss on Noah’s sleepy head. “Sorry, little dude. Forgot myself for a second there.”

“Toby, I’m sorry—”

His index finger covered his lips, gently asking me to shush. “Don’t you dare, doll. You don’t need to be sorry for anything.Ianneeds to be sorry. Ineed to be sorry.” He sighed. “Gwen, can I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“I’m struggling.”

“I can come home—”

“Not with Noah. Sure, we’re adjusting to you not taking care of us twenty-four-seven, but I’m loving being here with him.” He patted Noah’s back with another soft smile. “I’m struggling to deal with what Ian did. I’m struggling to be on my own. Gwen, I’m miserable without you. I hate living in the apartment. I’d rather spend every night for the next hundred years on the couch or even in a sleeping bag in the damn garage if it meant we were still together under the same roof. I know you’re not ready for that. I’m hanging on, but Sunday…” His eyes turned to the ceiling, and he exhaled a slow breath. “Sunday was rough.”

Shame stabbed under my ribs. I slumped forward. “It meant a lot to me that you listened.”

“And it meant even more to me that you were brave enough to talk to me. I want to be there for you. That’s something you can always count on.” He kissed Noah’s fuzzy head. “You can’t hear him, but NoBo agrees. You can count on him, too.”

A cold, hurt voice whispered in the back of my mind that I couldn’t count on Toby. The blue and red lights from the night of the accident still flashed when my eyes drifted closed some nights. Toby hadn’t been there. He hadn’t cared. If I took him back, maybe he’d try harder for a while, but what if there was another night when he didn’t answer his phone? Whatthen?

Toby’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Gwen, you okay?”

I shook my head.

I caught the curse he muttered as he dragged his palm down his face. “I’m sorry. This was meant to be a fun call to see Noah. He’s a little out of sorts, but we’re figuring it out. And seriously, he’s still cute as heck.” He squished the rolls of Noah’s chunky leg. “See that chub?Cuteasheck.”

“He really is cute as heck.”

“And he’s getting some extra beauty sleep because we’ve got big plans for when you get home. We’ll spoil you with a nice dinner and a bubble bath with one of those stinky bath bombs you like. You can even have an early bedtime because everything’s done around the house.”

“Seriously?Everything?”

“Well…” Toby’s eyes darted to the side. “I’m optimistic everything will be done.” He grinned. “Butobviouslynot the vacuuming.”

“Obviously.” I eyed him suspiciously. “You won’t be serving any of that non-alcoholic prosecco with dinner, will you?”

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