Page 202 of New Growth
When I got home, the lights were low and El was sunk into the couch in his glasses, sweats and a black fitted tee, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and some late-night documentary murmuring in the background.
His head turned when the door clicked shut.
“Hey, baby.”
I kicked off my shoes by the door, letting out a long breath. “Hey.”
He opened his arms before I even made it to him. I dropped my purse and climbed onto his lap, curling into his chest like I belonged there—because I did.
He kissed my forehead. “Long day?”
“You have no idea.”
I rested there, breathing in the clean scent of him. Then I pulled back slightly to look at him.
“Your ex-wife came by the store today.”
His brows lifted, but his expression didn’t flinch. “Samantha?”
“Mhm.”
“She start anything?”
“No. Actually, she was… calm. I offered to do her hair while we talked.”
His hand slid up and down my back slowly, eyes on mine. “You didn’t have to do that, Peanut.”
“I know. But I figured it was better than just sitting there in awkward silence. Besides, I wanted to see what she was about.”
He nodded, waiting.
“She said she wanted to see if you’d changed. Maybe compare us a little.”
He exhaled softly, jaw tightening.
I smoothed my thumb along his cheek. “It wasn’t ugly. I held my own.”
“Of course you did.”
“She asked if I knew why y’all broke up. I told her yes. She asked if I was really okay with the decision you made. About being child-free.”
His hand stilled on my back.
“What’d you say?” he asked softly.
I shifted in his lap, so I could look at him fully. His expression wasn’t guarded exactly—just careful. Like he wanted to prepare himself for whatever answer might come next.
“I told her what I told you. I’m fine with it. I told her that I got why she wasn’t, but it’s not a dealbreaker for me.”
His eyes searched mine. “You sure?”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if I wasn’t.” I paused. “You know that, right?”
He nodded slowly, then rested his forehead against mine. “Yeah. I know. I just… I don’t take that kind of thing lightly.”
“I don’t either,” I whispered. “We’re good, El. Really.”
He kissed me, slow and sweet, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck. But even after we broke apart, I could tell he was still thinking about something. His jaw worked, and his thumb tapped absently against my thigh.
