Chapter 2

2

Mack

Me:

SOS.

SOS. SOS. SOS.

The second Davey is nestled upstairs with the kiddies, my official freak-out begins.

Three months ? I get him home for three whole stinking months? Maybe if I can make the next three months the best they've ever been, if I'm sweet and romantic and look after him, if I remind him how things always were together, this will be my chance. A life that good is too hard to walk away from twice. Right?

The group chat has not reacted to my distress signal, which is, quite frankly, rude and insulting.

I skip the fun of keeping them in suspense because I'm bursting with energy and a plan, and I need to get it all out. Now. Immediately.

My phone lights up with a call from Art. He's one of my closest friends and was happily playing the field before Joey made him fall head over tit.

"Hello?"

"What's the emergency?"

I grin. "I'm going to win my husband back."

There's complete silence, and I check the call is still connected. Then, Art says one word.

"No."

I halt, head in the freezer, as I look to see if we have the ingredients for the casserole Davey likes. "No what ?"

"You will not be doing that."

A little of my excitement dims. "Why not?"

"Because," Art says patiently. "It goes completely against our current plan, which is to get you dating again. What happened to Luke?"

I think of the guy I went out with once and who's texted me a few times. Our one and only date ended up with me in the hospital from anaphylaxis. "We, uh, haven't caught up again. No good time. I'm very busy."

"Mack, it's me. Cut the shit."

"Fine. I don't want to go out with him."

"Okay, then. We'll find someone else. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. Maybe you can take a leaf out of Griff's book—got any best friends I can push you together with?"

"Yes. Davey."

His sigh is less patient than his words. "You're divorced. For a good reason."

"But what if?—"

"No. "

"But—"

"Mack. No. We've been over this." He groans. "Look, I'm only going to say this once because I will support whatever you choose to do, but you know that if you go through with this plan, you're going to get hurt. Davey is going to leave again. I love the guy, I loved you two for each other, but I'm friends with him too, and I know a workaholic when I see one. He loves his job. You made him choose once, and he did. You won't survive coming second again."

I swallow around the lump building in my throat. "I know. But I have to try."

"Okay. I tried. I said my piece. If that's your choice, what do you need me to do?"

"Really?" The fact he switched sides like that so quickly makes me think this could actually work. "You'll help?"

"Of course. Nothing shady, but I'm a good sounding board, and I'm romantic as fuck. Ask Joey."

There's a murmured voice in the background.

"Ah, actually, don't ask Joey," Art says. "I'm your friend, and they basically call me Casanova—that should be evidence enough."

There's more I can't make out from Joey in the background before Art continues.

"Again, do not ask Joey. He's very busy with schoolwork and being locked in my sex dungeon."

"I miss sex."

Art chuckles. "I have tried many times to fix that for you, but my blow job offer is officially off the table. I happen to like my balls still attached to my body."

"That's fine. I don't know where your mouth has been anyway," I say absently as I hear Davey's footsteps on the stairs. "I've gotta go," I hiss into the phone .

"In that case, I will begin plotting the worst idea ever. Talk soon."

I hurry to hang up as Davey rounds the corner into the kitchen. It always throws me how perfectly he fits into the house and my life. He's never out of place, and the urge to walk over and wrap my arms around him, to back him laughingly into the wall as I try to steal all the kisses I can, is strong.

Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets.

"They asleep?"

"I didn't even get to finish the book." He walks over to the sink to wash his hands. "There was something sticky in Van's bed."

"Huh. I guess that's where the candy cane went."

"Candy cane?"

I wave the question off. "Want to watch a movie?"

Davey's face lights up, and it makes me smile back automatically. "Yeah, what were you thinking?"

"Anything that doesn't have kids' characters in it works for me."

"I might just duck out and check on my?—"

"Your LEGO?" I grin. "It's fine. It's always fine. The kids aren't allowed out there without you, and I give it a dust every Sunday night."

"You've been looking after it?"

"With how long it took you to build that spaceship and all the cursing and late nights, of course. I can't go through that again."

Davey laughs and grabs two cans of Coke out of the fridge.

He follows me through to the living room, where we both scoop up handfuls of little cars to toss inside the bucket I keep them in. Then we flop down on the couch, side by side, and it's exactly the same as it ever was .

"You work tomorrow?" he asks as I flip through the options, looking for something interesting.

"Yep. I'll drop the kids at school and then go in."

"I can do it if you like? Just get yourself ready."

That will make things easier. "Sweet, thanks." I debate over asking about his work, but how can I not? It's the most important part of his life … for now. Even if I want to kill it with fire. "How's the promotion going?"

"Eh, you don't want to hear about that."

"Of course I do. It makes you happy." And I'll stop talking there because perfect husband Mack doesn't do bitterness. Only support and all things positive. Davey's number one fan.

"It's sort of strange to have a team reporting to me."

"Really? But haven't you done a lot of that anyway?"

"Yes and no. Before, I was part of the team. Part of coming up with the ideas and things … now, people bring the promotion packages to me to go over."

Dammit, it sounds exactly like the type of thing Davey would love. This is going to be harder than I thought. Doesn't matter. I just have to try even harder.

"Sounds stressful to me."

"Well, yeah." He turns his head to give me a soft smile, and this close, his dark freckles are more prominent in the glow of the TV. I've kissed those freckles too many times to count, and I dream about doing it again. "We're very different people."

"Not that different." The response is immediate and doesn't make sense, considering we always used to joke about being each other's missing piece. Davey loves traveling, he's organized, sensible, calms down with LEGO, and loves a good challenge. I love nothing more than settling at home, either reading or playing video games, and being goofy with my friends and family.

I don't want serious. I don't want a jet-setting life.

I want the kids and Davey and my job at the library. That's it.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, turning to prop his elbow on the back of the couch. "What's the same about us?"

"We, uh … like stir-fry."

Davey's eyes twinkle. "What else? Not food related."

My heartbeat quickens at being the sole focus of his attention. How many other men have sat across from him like this over the last two years and got to witness being in the best place on earth?

Still, it's a sad couple of minutes when the only other things I can think of are the kids and sex.

Stir-fry, our kids, and sex.

The three things we have in common, and they're shaky at best. We have to love our kids, and food and sex aren't exactly strong building blocks of a relationship. Maybe our problem was never his work at all. Maybe it's that we're too different.

I'm scrambling to come up with goddamn anything, and that teasing light is fading from Davey's face.

Am I an idiot? Just an idealistic moron thinking I can single-handedly fix this all because we have more time together?

The problem is that I can't not believe that because if I do, it means admitting this thing between us is over. It can't be. I refuse to let us grow apart until we don't even have this anymore.

Davey's the only man for me, and I really hope he'll remember I'm the only man for him.

I just have to make him remember .

Three months, and I'll shower him with all the love in the world. Starting tomorrow, there's no more ex-husbands, only us. If I want to hug him, I will. If I want to do something nice for him, I will. Davey is going to be smothered in affection unless he tells me to stop because this divorce was never supposed to happen. He was supposed to fight for me.

So now, I'm going to do what I should have done back then. Even if I fail.

"We're both stubborn mules," I finally say. Whether it's his LEGO or my games or the way we're raising the kids. Everything down to the divorce I want to forget about.

Neither of us wants to lose.

If I can get him fighting for us too, nothing will stop us.