Page 89 of Her Ex's Father
I want to demand where she is. I want to push past him and tear through the rooms until I find her. But Jack’s composure holds me in place. It’s infuriating.
And then?—
“Jack? Who was at the?—”
Her voice.
I turn.
Madeline stands in the hallway, barefoot, wearing leggings and a loose T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot, strands falling around her face. She looks younger like this, softer. Vulnerable. Especially with our child stretching out the front of that shirt, making herself known.
My chest seizes so hard I grip the back of a chair.
Our eyes meet, and something inside me unclenches violently.
Relief floods through me so fiercely it’s almost painful. She’s here. She’s safe. My world rights itself in an instant.
“Ben?” Her voice is breathless, disbelieving.
“Maddie.” Her name leaves me like a prayer, reverent, aching.
For a moment I can’t move. I just drink her in. The slope of her cheekbones, the freckles scattered across her nose, theswell of her stomach under the fabric. My child. Our child. Alive, whole, standing in front of me.
I can’t believe I let her leave. I should have doneanything—whatever she wanted—to get her to stay.
Every nightmare I’ve tortured myself with the past three days—losing her, losing them both—evaporates. I can breathe again.
Jack glances between us, his face unreadable. Then, with quiet tact, he nods. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I should speak. I should demand answers, lecture her for disappearing without a word. But all I can do is stand there, heart thundering, desperate to pull her into my arms.
She crosses her arms instead, putting up a wall. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” I say simply. My voice is rough, raw. “Three days without a word, Maddie. Do you know what that did to me?”
Her lips part, guilt flickering across her face. But she just shakes her head. “We can’t talk here; Jack should be able to be in his own home. Come on.”
The rooftop patio is simple—metal chairs, potted plants, a few strings of lights sagging overhead. But it’s nice. Comforting. I glance at my wife and imagine her curled up here on a summer evening, hands wrapped around a mug of ginger tea, staring out across the city. A mix of jealousy and desperation courses through my veins.
I want her to be happy, but I want her to be happy withme.Home.
From here, Philadelphia stretches in every direction, gritty and alive, horns and sirens bleeding up from the streets.
Maddie leans against the railing, arms wrapped tight around herself. The wind teases at the loose strands of her hair.
“I get why you came,” she says softly. “But I needed space. Time.”
“I know,” I admit. I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “And you can have space, Maddie. As much as you want. But not distance. Not from me. Not from our child. I need to know you’re safe, and I can’t do that if you’re hundreds of miles away.”
Her arms tighten across her chest. “Ben…”
I take another step, my voice low, steady. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Not for where you went, not for who you were with. I don’t care about your past. I only care about our future. About raising this baby together.”
Her eyes fly to mine, wide, startled.
“You don’t—” She swallows hard. “You don’t mean that. If you knew everything?—”
