Saying those words killed a little part of me, but they needed to be said.

Dallas didn’t agree or disagree. His hand was gentle in my hair and on my ear as he moved one to the side. “I’m waiting until the divorce is official. I’ve never gone back on my word or my vows, even with someone who didn’t deserve it. I’d want that person I end up with to know they don’t ever have to doubt me.”

I already hated this imaginary person. With a passion. I was going to pull the plug out of her tires.

His next words didn’t make me like his imaginary next wife any more either. “I always figured I’d grow old with someone, so I need to make the next one count since it’s for keeps.”

My heart started acting weird next.

And he kept going, signing her death warrant without even knowing it. “She wouldn’t be my first, but she’d be the only one who ever mattered. I think she could wait for the time to be right. I’d make sure she never regretted it.”

There seemed to be this pause in my life and in my thoughts as I processed what he said and what my body was doing.

Was this a fucking joke? Was this really happening to me?

Was my heart saying, You’re perfect, you’re amazing, and I love you?

Or was it saying it was going to kill this bitch before she ever came around?

It sure as hell wasn’t saying the first, because I told my stupid heart right then as I sat on the floor with my eyes squeezed shut, Heart, I’m not playing with your shit today, tomorrow, or a year from now. Quit it.

Dallas…. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. It wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t fucking happening.

I wasn’t in love. I couldn’t be.

I also couldn’t be upset over him wanting something wonderful in his life. He deserved it. No one had ever deserved it more.

Somehow I found myself tipping my head back far enough so I could look him in the eye and smile, all wobbly and slightly on the verge of wanting to pull a tantrum even as my heart kept singing it’s stupid, delusional song. “I said it before and I’ll say it again, your wife is a fucking idiot. I hope you know that, Professor.”

Chapter Eighteen

We were all busy looking back and forth between the two huge crate-like boxes on the lawn to really say anything. We all knew what was in them.

When Louie claimed that he’d finally saved up enough money to buy a kit that would get him a quarterpipe so he could skateboard at home, I hadn’t thought much of it. His other aunt had sent him a hundred dollars for his fifth birthday—I would have given him ten if I was in her shoes—and with the cash he’d collected from everyone else, he’d almost reached his goal. I had offered to cover the last fifty bucks he needed to cover shipping.

Fifty dollars for shipping should have been our first warning of what would be showing up. Now that I was seeing it in person, I was surprised it hadn’t been more expensive.

What I hadn’t put together was that his quarterpipe would need to be built.

And who would need to build it?

“Abuelito can help,” Louie croaked almost instantly, wringing his hands from his spot a foot away from his crates.

I glared at him. It wasn’t like I wanted to build his thing, but I didn’t like him assuming I couldn’t do it either. Even though we both knew building things wasn’t exactly my forté in life. He still hadn’t let me live down the bed I’d tried building him when we’d moved into our apartment years ago. “I can do it,” I told him, only sounding slightly offended.

He shook his blond head, his attention still focused ahead. “Grandpa. Maybe Grandpa can help.”

It was Josh who turned to look at me over his shoulder, grinning wide with his mouth open, like he was way too entertained by Louie shutting me down.

I ignored him. “Fine. We’ll figure it out since you don’t trust my skills.”

All Louie did was glance at me over his shoulder and give me an innocent smile. Traitor.

“Hurry up and go get your jackets if you want to go to the movies,” I told them, eyeing the boxes one last time.

They must have immediately forgotten our conversation in the car where we’d agreed to go to the movies, because both boys nodded and headed toward the front door. While they dropped off their backpacks, I let Mac outside even though he could let himself in and out through the doggy door, and refilled his bowl with water and food. Still in my work clothes, I didn’t feel like changing. Plus, we were going to the movies to watch the new Marvel movie, not to go husband hunting.

I was tired already. It’d be a miracle if I didn’t take a nap halfway through the film, no matter how good it was. But we didn’t get chances like these all the time. We probably went to the movies six times in a year with how busy things always were.

On the kitchen stoop, calling out for Mac to come back inside, I heard the loud sound of what could only be a big pickup truck rumbling down the street. It had to be Dallas. That made me smile. With no baseball this weekend, I wondered what he was planning on doing. He’d come home with us a couple of days ago to have dinner as a thank-you for helping out with our lice incident. That was the last time I’d seen him.

Back inside, I rushed the boys out the door, giving Mac a kiss and a promise that we didn’t have any plans for the weekend, for once. I couldn’t believe how much I was looking forward to just hanging out at home. But as I was locking the front door, I heard the boys yelling. And I heard grown men yelling back at them.