Page 39 of A Place Like You

And though this moment feels domestic, it also makes me feel guilty. The guilt of not having experienced moments like this with Noelle and our son, Sinclair. He was too young when we lost him, but still, I can’t help but feel regretful for the time we didn’t get to share.

The grief buried deep within me seeps through the cracks in my armor, a slow and steady leak beyond my control. It gathers momentum, turning into a torrent of emotions, threatening to overwhelm like a river breaking its banks. It catches me off guard in its relentless grip, overwhelming and raw, a storm raging within, tearing at my heart.

My chest tightens, and I struggle to catch my breath as memories of Sinclair flood my mind. The laughter we never got to share, the memories we never got to create, all echo through my heart with a painful ache, like an unfulfilled promise that hangs heavy in the air.

All of these reminders weigh heavily on my shoulders, reminding me why I’ve been numb for so long, why I’ve chosen to shield myself from feeling anything too deeply. It’s as if the universe is telling me to turn around and leave, to retreat back into the cocoon of safety I’ve created.

Wren’s eyes meet mine, and at that moment, it’s as if she sees through me, seeing the pain that I’ve kept hidden from the world. She reaches for my hand, her touch warm and gentle, offering comfort and understanding.

The gesture mends some of the cracks in my soul.

It’s a glimmer of hope.

It’s the possibility of a new day.

It’s . . . something that I don’t think I deserve.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wren

Since we skipped our Saturday night reunion, Gina, Sutton, and Jez arrive at my house after eight. Once Milo is fast asleep and Jez has left the bar in good hands—I don’t know exactly what that means.

“Where’s Daisy?” Sutton asks when she enters the house holding a tray of cookies.

“Sleeping in Milo’s room. Do you think you can pick her up tomorrow?” I give her my best puppy pout, imitating my son’s trick when he wants something.

“Sure, but just one more night,” she warns, chuckling. “I’ll get her while he’s still in school to avoid the ‘One more week, Aunt Sutton’ plea. That boy knows how to work his charm.”

“Thank you,” I answer, surprised that she already has a plan to avoid his puppy pout and all but yet, I’m thankful she’s willing to accommodate Milo’s attachment to her cat.

Once Jez finishes preparing the margarita pitcher, we head outside with the food Gina and Sutton brought. The evening breeze carries the aroma of lemon and chocolate.

“How was your parents’ anniversary?” I ask, settling in my favorite chair.

“I need to drink half of that pitcher before we discuss my family,” Sutton replies, reaching for a glass.

Before I can insist on getting the scoop, Jez asks, “Tell us, Wren, how was working with the new doctor in town?”

“Like any other shift at an emergency room,” I respond, sounding casual. “He knows what he’s doing, and that’s a good skill to have as a doctor.”

“Huh, she was doing great and even sounded uninterested until she added her not-so-breezy, ‘that’s a good skill . . .’” Regina bursts into laughter, and the other two join in.

I shoot her a playful glare. “Sometimes, I don’t like you.”

Gina grins. “You love me.”

“And lunch?” Jez probes, ignoring our nonsense. “I heard he made something very special for Milo.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, genuinely confused. How does she know about that?

“You can’t deny it.” Jez smirks. “Gael helped him with the meal.”

Right, the chef who’s quite comfortable invading her personal space. Yet so far, Jez hasn’t uttered a complaint about him. I find that fascinating and use it to deflect attention from myself.

I turn my gaze to Sutton and Regina before shifting it back to Jez, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe you can enlighten us about how things are progressing with Gael, your new chef.” I lean forward conspiratorially. “I heard he’s been thoroughly exploring all your, shall we say, secret nooks and crevices—in the kitchen, of course.”

Jez shoots me a piercing glare while the other two women stare at her, curiosity piqued.

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