Two—I want my husband back, and I want him to come home. I miss him. A specific longing for touch and connection that, no matter how many girls’ nights or parties I attend surrounded by people, only he dispels.
“No time like the present,” I mutter to myself, rushing to the front to buy the test and then walking back out into the winter cold.
Chapter Forty-Two
Josiah
I’m home.
Not sure if I ever really stopped thinking of the house on First Court as home, but after days of not seeing my kids, not holding Yasmen, they’re here, so this feels like home. I didn’t even bother going to my place first, but drove here straight from the airport. Over the last few weeks of clandestine hookups, I’ve gotten in the habit of not knocking, but walking right in. With the kids home, I hesitate. We said we’d tell Kassim when I got back from Charlotte, but what are we telling him exactly?
Mommy and Daddy still like to fuck, but that’s as far as it goes.
Got it? Good.
Is that even true?Isthat as far as it goes? I hid it well, but when Yasmen told Deja our divorce was a mistake, it tore something inside of me right down the middle, something still hanging in raggedy shreds. The implications of her admitting that? Tectonic. Shaking and shifting the very ground under our feet.
We didn’t discuss what she said. I didn’t spend the night. Even though Deja knows now, it would have felt weird being in Yasmen’s bedroom with our daughter under the same roof. Our whole situation feels like it’s occurring in a time warp, trapped between cycles. There are moments when we feel like the people we used to be. That passion. That connection from before. And at times this feels completely foreign, like we’re strangers discovering each other for the first time. It makes sense, though. I’m one person made of two strands. The things from my past that continue to shape me, and the person I’m slowly becoming.
My finger still hovers over the bell when the door flies open.
Deja stands there, draped in sass and a BTS onesie. Her smirk is disturbing. Knowing. Like she has something on me. She caught me postcoital with her mom, so I suppose she does.
“What happened to ‘Daddy! Daddy!’?” I ask dryly. “Aren’t you usually squealing and hurling yourself into my arms when I come home from a trip?”
Her brows lift and her smirk deepens. “Seemed to me your arms were full last I checked.”
Smart-ass. How is she only fourteen? Just how bad will this become the older she gets?
Without a word, I step past her into the house.
“How was Charlotte?” she asks, closing the door and leaning against it.
“Good. Lot of work to get the operation up and running, but we’ll make it happen.” I hesitate, shooting her a searching look. “Vashti’s moving there to be head chef.”
“She wanted that?”
“Yeah. She asked and Cassie’s more than prepared to take over here. We’re looking for a sous-chef to take her place.”
“I’ll miss her.”
“We all will. She’s been great.” I keep my tone neutral, my gaze wandering up the staircase. “So where is everybody?”
She folds her lips in on a sly smile. “You mean where’s Mom?”
“Kassim’s not here?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“Basketball practice. Jamal’s mom is bringing them home.”
“Where’s Otis?”
“In the kitchen asleep.” She rolls her eyes. “Lazy dog’s been sleeping ever since I got home.”
And your mother?
I don’t ask the question, but the little minx knows I want to, grinning and canting her head in expectation.
“Anyone else you want to know about?” she asks innocently.