As real as the possibility was, I just…didn’t want to.
God, what was wrong with me?
I slid out of the booth without warning. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait, what? I was just kidding.” She reached for my hand, and her skin on mine repulsed me. I felt like one of those guys who gets hypnotized to make their cigarettes taste like worms.
Everything I’d ever loved, everything I’d ever craved…felt pointless.
Unappealing.
Disgusting, even.
I couldn’t have been less into it.
“No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have to…” I didn’t bother finishing the sentence, already making my way across the bar and toward the front door.
What was wrong with me?
What had Ainsley done?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AINSLEY
It was after eleven before Dylan finally returned to the room. Maisy and Riley were already asleep, and I pointed toward the box of pizza resting on top of the mini-fridge when he looked at me.
“We got your favorite.”
He walked past the pizza box without a word, kicking off his shoes and sliding into bed next to Riley. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders. I considered reminding him to brush his teeth, but thought better of it.
“Love you,” I whispered, to no response.
I watched him, waiting for him to look my way, to offer me even a moment’s glance to let me know the hatred didn’t run too deep, but it never came. I couldn’t blame him.
Ididknow how it felt.
I was glad he had at least one parent who was there for him, but I knew that didn’t make it better. Going through my parents’ divorce was the most isolatingexperience of my life, and I knew each of the kids would have to work through it in their own ways and their own time, no matter how badly it stung. What I knew most of all was that I couldn’t allow him to get in touch with Peter. I couldn’t allow Peter to get to him. If I did, I worried I’d never see my son again.
When an hour had passed and the large lump in the bed that was my oldest son rose and fell with steady breaths, telling me he was asleep, I picked up my phone.
She answered on the first ring, as if she’d been expecting my call. Maybe she had. She always seemed to sense when I needed her.
“Hey, love. Whatcha up to?”
“Oh, you know…” Just the sound of Glennon’s voice put me at ease. “Just sitting here watching TV.”
“Anything good?”
“Not really. What are you up to?”
“I was reading the new Brené Brown book. Have you read it yet? Life changing.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Everything okay? You sound sad.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just… I need a favor.”