Running Wild(Wild #3)(68)

Any time Jonah gets into a conversation with another pilot, it’s never just a minute. “It’s fine. I think I need a coffee.”

“Grab one for Calla, too. She’s on a kick. What are those things called?” He snaps his fingers. “A fog something or other?”

“London Fog?”

“Yeah. With soy milk. And lavender.”

I feel my face screw up. “Lavender? Here?” I throw my hand toward the little blue-and-green shack on the side of the road—a tourist landmark, its walls plastered with mushing-themed signs, the roof’s ridge adorned by wooden sled dogs and a sled, and a Porta Potty next to the back entrance.

“I don’t know?” He shrugs. “That’s how she makes it at home.”

I burst out with laughter, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the weight I’ve been under. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He grins. “Just get whatever they have. But make it soy.”

I hop out of the truck and walk toward the shack. I stop at the vacant window, my hungry eyes drifting over the assortment of danishes and other treats on display.

The window slides open. “Marie Lehr! Is that you?” Charlotte tosses her long gray braid over her shoulder. “My God, it’s been years!”

At least three since Micky, her cocker spaniel, passed. That’s how I know everyone in the Mat-Su area—by their four-legged family members.

“What can I get you today?”

I put in the order for Calla and myself—a plain old black coffee for plain old Marie—along with an order of biscuits and gravy that I will regret in an hour and Jonah will complain about. And then I listen as Charlotte fills me in on the latest local gossip while toiling in her little kitchen shack.

When my food is up and the rumble of a truck behind me says there’s another customer waiting in line, I quickly depart.

Jonah is still deep in conversation with Sam, so I head toward the picnic tables. I’m halfway there when I realize that I know the man sitting at one of them, leaning over to make faces at the baby in the car seat while a woman fumbles with a diaper bag, in a frantic search for something.

I stumble over my feet as I stop abruptly. Of all days … seeing my ex and his adorable little family is the last thing I’m in the mood for. Before I can make a sharp turn left toward Jonah’s truck, Jonathan looks up and sees me.

His hand lifts halfway before he falters, as if suddenly recalling how badly I hurt him. I’ve heard through mutual friends that he still sometimes drops comments that hint at lingering resentment. Finally, he commits to the wave.

With my hands full and a clear, straight path toward them, I’m now stuck.

Deep breath in, I force a smile and close the distance. “It’s been awhile. How are you?” I hover rather than taking a seat, silently hoping Jonah will rescue me soon.

My ex looks the same—clean-cut brown hair, lean build, head-to-toe Patagonia gear—but the dark circles under his eyes are new.

“Good, good. Actually, I’m great.” He gestures at the plump baby watching us, as if presenting an artifact. “Meet Clancy. My son. Our son,” he quickly corrects, turning toward the woman. “This is my fiancée Carrie. This is Marie.” Nothing else. Just Marie.

“Nice to meet you.” I nod toward the petite, dark-haired woman. I’m sure she’s heard plenty of stories about me. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she says, holding up a pacifier in the air. “Found it!” The diamond engagement ring catches my attention. It’s far bigger than the one I handed back to him.

“Oh, thank God.” Jonathan rubs his forehead. To me, he explains, “We’re heading up to Talkeetna for the day, and Clancy screams in the car when he doesn’t have it.”

“He looks happy enough right now.” I smile at the boy, and I get a toothless smile in return. “How old is he?”

“Almost three months?” He looks to Carrie for confirmation.

“Four,” she corrects sternly.

“Right. Holy. I can’t keep track anymore.” Jonathan chuckles, massaging the back of his neck. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. “Between our son being born, and work taking off, and the upcoming wedding, the days are flying by. But all amazing things. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I’m sure it’s not a dig at me, and yet I feel the shovel blade hit my back all the same.

Healthy baby, check.

Happy spouse, check.

Blooming career, check.

All things Marie doesn’t have. Check, check.

Not that he would know that last part.

But would this have been Jonathan and I, had I stayed? Had I settled?

It’s a discombobulating feeling—to stand across from a person who once knew your most intimate secrets and now is virtually a stranger with an entirely new life of his own.

“What’s new with you, Marie? Still doin’ the vet thing?”

“Still doing the vet thing.”

“And where are you living now?”

“Same place.”

His eyebrows arch. “With your parents?”

There’s no mistaking the judgment in that tone. “In the cabin on the property,” I correct with a shrug. “It’s easy.”