Patchwork Paradise(65)

“What does that mean?” Thomas asked.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

“Okay. I think I’ll be upstairs packing.”

Imran glanced between us, and Thomas rose to his feet. I wanted to stop him but didn’t.

“What the f*ck?” Imran asked.

“None of your business,” I said tiredly. “Go talk to Cleo.”

It was time for Milo’s bottle, so I lifted him from his play mat and went into the kitchen. My heart ached like it hadn’t in a long time, but it ached for Thomas, not Sam. At least Milo kept me distracted as I waited for his bottle to heat.

When I heard the front door slam, I had no idea who’d left, but I doubted Thomas would go without Milo. Unless he’d gone to park his car closer to the house.

Cleo appeared in the kitchen and took Milo off my hands to change him. The bottle was done by the time she came back. Milo had his hand tightly clenched in her hair.

“So what’s it like? Living here with Thomas and . . . I can’t believe it . . . his son?” she asked.

“It’s . . .” I grinned at her. “It’s exhausting. And frustrating. On so many levels, Cleo, oh my God. Half the time I don’t know why Milo is crying, and the other half I’m suffering from blue balls.” She wrinkled her nose, but I ignored her. “And it’s perfect.” I flopped down on the couch so I could put my chin in my hands and look at her. I sobered. “I mean, it’s not anymore. I want Thomas to move in, and he’s reluctant. I can understand why, but it hurts my feelings anyway. And at the same time I keep thinking this shouldn’t be possible. To be this happy twice? I keep . . .”

I blew a breath through my nose, trying to put this heavy feeling in my chest into words. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like . . . I’m afraid to give it my all because no one gets to have this twice, do they? I mean, I want it. I want him so much, Cleo. But how? How could I? It doesn’t seem possible. We’re going to take some time apart. He’s packing right now.”

“He’s leaving?” She gaped at me.

“For now. We’re not breaking up.” I hoped.

“Aw, babe.” She nudged my side with her small foot and shifted Milo so she could burp him. “Happiness isn’t a finite thing. It’s not a purse that runs out of happy coins. Happiness is . . . what you put into the world. You’re such a good person, and you have such a huge heart. You’d find happiness in whatever you did or whomever you chose to be with. It’s not something that overcomes you. You make Thomas happy, and so he makes you happy in return. Of course you were going to fall in love again. But maybe he’s right. Moving in together after what you’ve been through, and with a baby in the picture—that’s pretty intense. I’m convinced you guys will work it out. Give it time. You two are so good together.”

“You think so?” I whispered.

She pressed her lips together, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to smile or cry again. “Do you love him?”

I laughed a little giddily and rested my head on my arms before lifting it again. “Yes,” I said. “I really do.”

The smile she offered was brittle at the edges, and the levity of the moment drained away.

“What’s going to happen now? With you and Imran.”

She shrugged, but one tear dropped from her eyelashes, and my heart ached. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we can come back from this. We’re going to talk when we get home.”

I walked her to the door. As she stood on the steps, she whirled around and said, “Next weekend we’re babysitting for you.”

“What?”

“We both have the weekend off. Take your pick: Friday or Saturday. Go out for dinner, spend the night together. You guys deserve a break. And a real date.”

I wasn’t going to pass up an offer like that.

“I’ll talk to Thomas and text you.” I wasn’t sure if he’d want to take her up on this.

“Do it. And text me photos of Milo too. What a cutie.”

“Isn’t he?” I asked proudly, like I had anything to do with it.

She reached out, and I hugged her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” I whispered. “We’re here for you.”

“I’m so happy there’s a we again, Ollie. So happy.” She kissed my cheek, and then she was gone.

When Thomas came to find me, he was carrying three bags.

“Do you think you could give me a hand?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “Of course.”

He put his bags down and cupped my face in his palms. “This isn’t the end, is it, Ollie?”

“I don’t want it to be.”

“Me neither. Maybe when we’re back on our feet a little bit, we can talk about buying a smaller house together. Something that just belongs to us.”

I reared back and inevitably pulled myself free from his grasp. “You want me to sell this house? After all I’ve done to try and keep it?”

He sighed, looking uncomfortable, but pushed on regardless. “I always wondered why you were so bent on keeping it, Ollie. You got yourself into some dire financial straits, and for what? Because you couldn’t let go of Sam? I don’t want to live in his shadow forever.”