Page 39 of I’m Already Gone

“He’s a sweet kid,” Dad murmurs. “All I see is Lily in that little boy.”

I slowly turn, finally facing him, a knot forming in my stomach. “Do you see him often?”

He sighs, a deep, weary sound. “He doesn’t spend time with us, if that’s what you’re asking. But Lily is like a daughter to us, Ethan. And Ollie, he’s still part of her. Part of Jake and Maddy.”

But he’s not mine, I think to myself.

My father seems to read my mind, his brow furrowing. “I’m sorry if that bothers you, son.”

I lean back in my chair and raise my beer bottle to my lips, taking a long swig. Swallowing hard, I say, “Not in the way you think, Dad. It’s been four years since the divorce. And for the longest time, I didn’t understand why she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive me. To give me a chance to make it right.”

I stare down into the amber liquid, swirling it aimlessly. “I still hate that I lost her,” I admit.

And that hurts more than I ever thought it would. She made her choice because I was the one who broke us. I keep thinking if I had done things differently, if I hadn’t been such an idiot, I wouldn’t be standing outside of her life looking in like an intruder.

I look toward the sun that is starting to dip below the horizon. Watching the sun go down is one of Lily’s favorite things to do.

“I miss her so much, Dad,” I confess, the words tearing from me. “I still carry that guilt with me, every single day, like a bad rash.”

“You can’t go back four years and change what happened. But that doesn’t mean you can’t make a difference now.”

I shake my head slowly, the weight of the years pressing down on me. “I think that ship has sailed, Dad. No matter what I say, what I do… It’s too late for Lily and me.”

He holds my gaze, a flicker of stubborn hope in his eyes. “Never say never.”

After dinner, we helped Mom with the dishes, and as the kids were saying their goodbyes, Mom pulled me aside.

“Honey, can you please give this to Lily when you drop the kids off?” She hands me a bag of leftovers. “And tell her to give me a call when she has a second. I miss talking to her.”

Something in my chest tightened at that. It was a reminder that while we were no longer married, the relationship created through our family still exists.

“Sure.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Night, Mom.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” She walks back into the house.

I climb into the car and put the bag in the back seat with the kids.

We ride to Lily’s in silence. When I pull up to her driveway, the house is dark, but her car is here, so she has to be home. As the kids jump out of the car, I grab the bag from the back seat and follow them. Jake unlocks the door and calls out for his mother, but there’s no response.

I close the door and stand in the doorway like an idiot. I glance around the space. It’s very homey and cozy, two things Lily tried to accomplish when we lived in the mansion. I think that house was too much for her, which was why she was quick to sell it.

My eyes drift to the photos adorning the wall, capturing moments of her with the kids. None of me, which I can’t blame her for. I wonder if she threw them away.

Each image reflects Lily’s radiant smile and the happiness she shares with our children and her little boy. I swallow hard as I push the pain away, forcing myself to look away. We used to dream about expanding our family. It’s hard to believe the last time we had that conversation was only a few years ago.

“What are you doing?” She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that still sent a delicious shiver down my spine after all these years.

“Just admiring the view,” I murmured, my gaze lingering on the curve of her neck, the way the fading light caught the stray strands of her hair. “And how much I want to kiss my Sunshine.”

Before she could respond, I unbuckled her seatbelt. My hands found her hips, pulling her gently but firmly across the console. She gasped as she tumbled into my lap, her body molding perfectly to mine, her head now resting on my lap.

“Oh, my God!” She giggled, but there was no protest, only a melting surrender.

I stared down at her, memorizing the delicate spray of freckles across her nose, the way her skin glowed, kissed golden by a lifetime spent in the sun. I reached out, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, then brushed her long, dark blond hair away from her face, letting it fall over my leg.

“You are so beautiful,” I whispered. My thumb stroked the soft skin beneath her eye, feeling the subtle flutter of her lashes.

“So are you,” she countered, her voice a low purr, her eyes shining up at me.