For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
He didn’t waste words. He just looked at things, figured them out, and fixed them.
By noon, the hissing toilet upstairs had gone silent.
By two, the back door closed tight, no more draft curling around my ankles.
By four, a roast was in the oven, filling the air with thyme and warm meat.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Lily hovered nearby, leaning against the doorway.
“You’re handy.”
Linda sniffed. “We don’t need a man doing woman’s work.”
Caleb just smiled. “Looks like we need work done.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
That evening, Ryan came home. He paused at the doorway, breathing in the smell of the roast, the faint tang of lemon from polished wood.
“Did you…” he began.
“Caleb did,” I said, keeping my tone even.
Later, in the kitchen, Ryan lowered his voice. “Who is he to you?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
“A friend. From before you.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You left me at the hospital. I carried your son home alone.”
“Sorry, but my Mom said Lily needed us. I can’t say no to her.”
“You’re a father now. A husband. You get to say yes to us. Even if it means NO to her.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
He swallowed hard. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s simple. It’s our house.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You tell him to go.”
