Chapters (24)
Brynne smiled as she surveyed the bikes and board games, electronics and clothes, all carefully staged for best effect. Davey, she suspected, was a budding photographer—he took pictures of everything, sometimes things he shouldn’t.
After admiring the kids’ treasures—remarkably, the siblings weren’t spoiled—Brynne turned to Davey’s email. She’d been saving that for last.
From: [email protected]
Hi Brynne. Hope you had a good Christmas. We really liked the books you sent, and Dad says we have to write you an actual thank-you note, ’cause an email isn’t enough.
There isn’t much news to share. Mom is still with Geoffrey, that douchebag, and Dad is dating some woman he met at a nightclub. Mom says she’s a floozy.
Maddie and I are spending New Year’s Day with Dad, at his place. He says the floozy won’t be there, ’cause she’s nobody we need to know.
Trust me, that’s a relief.
Anyway, Dad said if it’s okay with you, we could Skype or FaceTime with you while we’re with him.
Would that be okay with you?
If it is, which day and what time?
That’s about all there is to say for right now. Maddie and I both miss you a whole lot.
Love,
Davey
Brynne swallowed, waited for her vision to clear and replied, Text me the times that work for you. When it comes to you and Maddie, I’m available anytime.
About five seconds after she’d clicked Send, a response arrived from Davey, with no subject line. The body of the message was a row of thumbs-up emojis.
She smiled and replied with two hearts and four kisses.
Then she cried for a while.
Not over Clay. No, she had no tears left for him—she’d cried them all in the months after the breakup.
She cried because she loved Davey and Maddie, and missed them terribly, and because the way things were shaping up, she might never have children of her own.
She could go the single-mom route, of course—lots of people did, these days—but Brynne was too damn old-fashioned for that. She wanted the whole enchilada—loving husband and all.
She closed her laptop, sniffled and plucked a napkin from one of the holders on the counter, dabbing at her eyes and then blowing her nose noisily.
That done, she tossed the napkin, washed her hands and got to work.
She took down the aluminum Christmas tree and the plastic Santa heads and other decorations left over from her mom and dad’s day, then fetched a stepladder and climbed onto it to begin taking down the lights strung around the front window.
The roar of an engine startled her so that she nearly tumbled off the ladder.