Page 130 of Lost in Love

And then he seems to lose focus about Ukraine when he looks at my wedding ring that catches his eye in the dim lighting of his room. And then he stares at me like he’s waiting for me to tell him no completely, or that I have to work so going out of the country for his birthday isn’t an option. I can see the questions on his face so I decide to change the subject.

“Does Mommy have any boys that are friends?”

That catches him off guard. “Boys that are friends? Like Uncle B?”

“No, like boys I don’t know.”

“Pedro?”

“Who’s Pedro?”

“I don’t know. He’s Pedro. He cleans the pool on Thursdays.”

We have someone who cleans our pool?

I don’t know why I didn’t know that. You’d think I would. I’ll have to look into this Pedro guy. “Does he come in the house?”

Callan shrugs and turns over onto his side like he’s ready for bed now. “Sometimes.”

Nodding, I pat his head and then lean in to kiss his forehead. “Night, buddy.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to be home early every night?”

I realize then how odd this looked to him, me coming home so early and taking him to soccer, two things I’ve yet to do in years. I swallow, feeling like my throat is dry. “Probably not,” I tell him, honestly. “But I know I need to make more of an effort to come home earlier, don’t I?”

“I liked it.”

And the look on his face, the one where he finally shows me today he’s the almost seven-year-old boy and not some kid who needs to be studying nuclear reactors reminds me I still need to be a dad, regardless of running a business. It’s not his fault I don’t trust anyone to hire them out for bids.

I’m feeling like shit as I walk down the hall to the bedroom where Madison is, half expecting the door to be locked.

Surprisingly, it’s not. There’s hope then, right?

Maybe. And that’s a slim fucking maybe after today.

She’s there, lying on the bed with a book in hand. I don’t bother looking to see what book because it doesn’t really matter. What matters is what she looks like lying on our bed. Fucking stunning. I’ll never get over how naturally beautiful my wife is.

Look at her.

Her hair is down, framing her face like a curtain, her skin perfectly tan with the right amount of glow. For a second, I want to lie down beside her, brush my knuckles over her cheek and tell her I love her. But I don’t. Maybe it’s my pride again, but I stay rooted in place by the door contemplating what I’m going to say to her. She filed for divorce today. I know she gave me a bunch of reasons earlier but that’s not all. There’s something more to this and I’m going to find out what it is.

As I stand there in the doorway of the bedroom, she’s unaware of my presence in the room. Part of me wonders how long I could stand there and watch her before she notices me.

Clearing my throat softly, her attention moves from the book to me.

“Is Callan asleep?”

“Yeah.” Our eyes lock, and I’m curious what she’ll do. Nothing. I nod and fold my arms over my chest. “By the way, he wants to go to Ukraine for his birthday.”

She laughs. She’s probably heard this all before.

Her laughter ignites my smile, and I shake my head. Focus, Ridley. Get some answers.

I kick the door shut, much like I did earlier today but softer this time because I don’t want to wake up Callan.

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