“Sorry,” echoed Cheyenne. She wore her skirt but no tights, and covered one bare foot with the other. About ten feet away, closer to the door, I could see where her black tights had been abandoned.

“Um, I can explain,” I said.

“No, don’t.” Griffin held up his hand and started heading for the door. “Really. Just don’t.”

“I’ll lock up,” Cheyenne called, like she was trying to be helpful.

Griffin said nothing and disappeared, leaving Cheyenne and I alone again. We looked at each other.

“Oops,” I said, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry. That was a bit loud. And rough.”

“I liked it.”

“Your brother didn’t.”

“No,” she said, laughing as she went and scooped up her tights. “He really didn’t. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I pulled into her driveway and put my car in park. “I guess Griffin knows about us for sure now, huh?”

Cheyenne giggled. “The whole block might know about us for sure now.”

I grimaced. “I was afraid the police would show up when that alarm went off.”

“Oh my God, can you imagine? I would have died. Died.”

“You and me both.” I exhaled, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb, wishing I didn’t have to say goodbye to her, even for the night. “I’ll be glad when things are different and we don’t have to sneak around.”

“Me too.”

“Once I’m in the new house, things will get easier.” But then I frowned, remembering what Jessalyn had said about sleepovers. How long would we have to wait?

“I’m nervous about tomorrow night,” Cheyenne said quietly, “about how Mariah will react. I’m trying not to be, but I am.”

“I understand,” I said, putting my arm around her and holding her as closely as I could. “But remember that Jessalyn said resistance would only be natural, even though she loves you.”

“I know. I just really, really want it to go well.”

“Me too.” I kissed the top of her head. “But even if she’s upset tomorrow night, it doesn’t mean she won’t come around eventually.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry—I’m sure you’re nervous too. I don’t want to make it harder on you.”

“You’re not. Now you better get inside, before I lose my mind and try to get your clothes off in the back seat.”

She laughed, pressing her hand to my cheek and her lips to mine. “Call me tomorrow. And good luck.”

After making sure she got in safely, I went home and put my car in the garage. As I was walking to the back door, I couldn’t help admitting I was nervous about tomorrow night. There was a very real possibility that Mariah would not be comfortable with our relationship.

And what would I do then? Give Cheyenne up? Go back to secretly longing for her? Spend all my nights alone, missing her?

No. It was out of the question. I’d just have to work harder to make Mariah understand that I had enough room in my heart for both of them.

I was willing to fight for her.

Upstairs, I snuck into Mariah’s room, and looked down at her sweet, sleeping angel face, then bent to place a kiss on her forehead. It’s going to be okay, baby, I promised her silently. You don’t have to be afraid. You’re never going to lose me.

But that night, after slipping beneath the covers, I did something I hadn’t done in years—closed my eyes and said a prayer.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God, but our relationship had been a bit strained after losing Trisha. I’d never understood how a God who was supposed to be good and just had allowed something like that to happen. It was an unsettling feeling, to have your faith stolen. To wake up one morning believing in something, and by nightfall, discover that belief has been destroyed. It made it hard to trust your instincts. Hard to plan for the future. Hard to believe that you can protect those you love—or protect yourself. Nothing was promised. Nothing was certain. And prayers went unanswered all the time.

But tonight, I found myself willing to try again.

Nineteen

Cole

The following evening, Mariah and I left for the ice rink as soon as I got home from work.

It was crowded, but we had fun circling the ice together hand in hand, and she showed off some of her moves from her figure skating class. She recognized a few classmates, and I was more than happy to stand to the side with the other parents while they darted around the rink, playing games and judging one another’s attempts at fancy twirls and jumps.

When we were done skating, we put our boots back on, tossed our skates in the car, and walked down to our favorite pizzeria. The owner greeted me with a handshake and made a big deal about how tall Mariah was getting before seating us in a red vinyl booth along the wall.

We ordered soft drinks and pizza, and I gave Mariah some quarters to go play video games while we waited for the food to arrive. I told myself I wasn’t putting off the conversation, I was just ensuring she was in the best possible mood before broaching a difficult topic. No sense in trying to talk seriously to her while she was hungry, or grumpy that I wouldn’t give her any game time like I usually did.

While she was gone, I looked at a TV screen that hung in the corner, barely registering the hockey game that was on. I sipped a Coke, wishing it was a beer, but knowing I needed to stay clear-headed. I texted Cheyenne that I was at the pizzeria and promised to call her when I got home.

And I twisted my wedding band around my finger. I’d dug it out of the drawer and put it on at the last minute, although I wasn’t even sure exactly why. Maybe I thought it would soften the blow of my announcement. Maybe I wanted to reassure her that I took my promises seriously. Maybe I hoped it would show her that she could still trust me to protect her from her fears.

Eventually she returned and the pizza was placed on a tall stand in the middle of our table. After sending her to the bathroom to wash her hands, I served her a piece and took one for myself, although my stomach was too knotted up to eat.

“So I wanted to talk to you about something,” I said as she picked all the pepperoni off her slice.

“What?”

“Well, first I want you to know that you are the most important person in the world to me, and your feelings matter more than anything.”

“‘Kay,” she said, licking her fingers.

“And you know how much I love you, right? How much I will always love you?”

She gave me a weird look. “Yeah.”

“Good.” I was tempted to pull the folded-up piece of notebook paper from my jeans pocket, but I didn’t. “Okay. Good.”

“Are you going away somewhere?” Her voice shook slightly.

“No,” I said firmly. “Nope, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay, good.” She picked up her slice of pizza and took a bite.

“I will never leave you. You understand that? It’s you and me forever, kiddo.”

She nodded and smiled, her mouth full. “In our new house.”

“In our new house.” I cleared my throat. “But sometimes moms and dads who don’t have a husband or wife anymore like to spend time with someone their own age. Sometimes they get a little lonely being on their own without a partner, and they meet someone they like spending time with, and they . . . they want to date that person.”