“Yes, Mom, I know.” I try to contain my frustration as I tidy the house. She’s been yammering in my ear for the last ten minutes about how hard it is to maintain a marriage.

“Then you should know that a divorce is ten times harder,” she admonishes.

I understand that my parents have the marriage of the century, but my father is a unicorn. He loves my mother so much that it’s almost painful to be around. I tried to pretend that I had even a sliver of that, but I didn’t.

“You know what’s really hard? Being with a man who puts me down all the time. Loving someone who doesn’t love me back. More than anything, it’s hard when I know I can’t fix it because I’m never going to be good enough.” I pull in a heavy breath and fight back any tears.

“Oh, Kris.”

“I need you on my side, Mom.”

“I’m always on your side. Always. I just don’t want to see you do something rash.” Her voice cracks.

My mother and father have been there for me every step of the way. They are the kind of parents who should’ve had twenty kids instead of only me. There is no woman in the world who deserved to be a mom more than mine, but she couldn’t. She almost died having me, and Daddy refused to try again no matter how much she begged. I know she wants what’s best for me, but now that I’ve had time away from Scott, I see how bad it was.

“It’s not rash. It’s been a long time coming, and honestly . . .” I sigh as I plop onto my bed. “I should’ve left years ago.”

Mom goes quiet and then clears her throat. “I should’ve done more earlier.”

“What?”

“I kept making excuses for the things he said.” Her tone is dejected. “I would tell your father how much I worried, but then I would rationalize it away.”

“I did the same thing,” I admit. For years, I would find one reason or another to allow his behavior to continue. Then, after a while, I accepted it as normal and what I was worth.

It wasn’t until Nicole made a comment about a year ago that I finally took notice of how wrong things really were. She asked me about what I would have said if it were Aubrey who was married to a man like Scott.

For the first time, I saw it from an outsider’s eyes.

And I didn’t like a damn thing about it.

“I’m sorry, Kris,” my mother says.

“It’s Scott who needs to apologize . . . not you.”

We talk a little more about my job and how my first weekend has been without the kids home. I miss them terribly. Being in my home without them is weird, and I keep listening for Aubrey’s sweet laughter or Finn yelling at the video game.

“I want you to know how much admiration I have for you,” she says after I tell her I need to get ready for tonight.

“Why?”

“Because you’re doing something about your life. You could’ve taken the easy road and stayed with him, but you chose yourself and your kids, and I’m proud of you.” Her words mean more to me than she’ll ever know.

This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Some days, I’m not sure I’ll survive, but I haven’t died yet.

“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After not finding anything in my closet and unpacking two more boxes, I finally settle on a turquoise slip dress. I haven’t worn this in forever, but thankfully, it fits perfectly. My hair is smooth, hanging past my shoulder blades, and has enough Marula oil in it to keep it controlled without it looking heavy.

Considering the freak show I looked like when I left Heather’s, anything is an improvement.

I grab my phone to call Aubrey and see a text.

She’s never going to buy this.

I need new friends.

I smile and put my phone down. Now that I know he’s coming here, I start to panic a little.

He’s wealthy, gorgeous, and probably has some huge house while I’m living rent-free in my best friend’s place.

On the other hand, why do I care? This isn’t a date. I don’t have feelings for Noah. He’s just some guy I’m supposed to write about. No reason to care what he thinks of me.

None at all.

Who the hell am I kidding? I’m a bad liar and as parts of last night come back to me, I don’t know how I’m going to look at the man with a straight face.

Nervous energy pulses through me as I move around the house. I place a few photos on the end table, arrange and then rearrange the table decorations, and then I head to the couch to wait.

After a whole three seconds, I can’t stand the sitting and jump up. As I’m heading to once again fix the table, the doorbell chimes.

Okay, this isn’t a date, it’s a work function.

At this point, I should just hope I don’t pee myself, which is pretty much the bottom of the barrel for me.

I take two deep breaths and open the door. Noah’s face is right there as he leans against the frame. His emerald eyes are deeper than before thanks to the green shirt he’s wearing. His dark brown hair is pushed back from his face, and I can’t breathe.

He flashes one of his luminous smiles, and I think I actually hit the bottom of that barrel.

“Hi.” His voice washes over me.

I stare, and my legs go all mushy. I lean my head on the edge and smile back. “Hi.”

“I brought these for you.”

Noah hands me a large bouquet of calla lilies. “They’re beautiful.”

And I want to make sweet, sweet love to you.

I need a therapist.

I look at the flowers, which are an array of pink and white, and am grateful for something to distract myself with.

“Not half as beautiful as you are,” Noah says, bringing my attention slowly back to him.

My cheeks burn, and I swoon. I’ve never swooned before, but I rise up on my toes, sigh, and drop back down. Like a freaking teenage girl with her first crush.

If I could slap myself right now, I would. Instead, I straighten my back and vow to get a handle on my shit. “Thank you again. I’ll just put these in water if you want to come in.”

“Sounds good.”

Noah enters the house, and I head to the kitchen, realizing too late that Danni organized the place and I have no bloody idea where my vases ended up. I end up grabbing the first cup I find and put the flowers in my ghetto version of a vase.

“So this is Heather’s old home?” he asks from the other room.

“Yup. I spent countless nights here as a kid so it kind of feels like home to me,” I reply as I look around the cabinets for anything better than Aubrey’s pink Barbie cup. I search high and low, but there is nothing to be found.

Anxious, I close the drawer quickly, catching my finger. “Shit!”

“You all right in there?”

No, I’m the walking definition of a hot mess. “Yeah, everything’s great!” I call out and roll my eyes. I should assume this is how the rest of my evening will go.

Not wanting to keep him waiting or show my ass, even more, I grab the cup and place it in the center of the table.

Classy is my middle name. My mother would have a coronary if she saw this.

“Sorry,” I say as I turn to find him watching me. “Ready?”

Maybe I can distract him and he won’t notice? I move over a smidge to block his view and lean against the edge of the table.

“You in a rush? I figured we could talk a little, get to know each other.” Noah’s voice is deep and smooth.

Couldn’t he sound like a girl? Anything to make him a little less appealing. I don’t feel like that’s asking too much. I need to find anything to keep me from embarrassing myself.

He moves toward me as I study him. Looking for that thing . . . he has to have one. I search his face, finding nothing but beautiful green eyes and a come-fuck-me smile. My gaze roams lower, already knowing this is a bad idea but unable to stop myself. His shoulders are broad and the angle tapers into a triangle. I remember how my legs fit perfectly around his waist and wish I could forget the way my hands moved against the muscles on his arms.

“Kristin?” Noah breaks me out of my trance.

“Oh! Umm,” I stammer. “Yeah, no. We should . . . you know . . . go.”

Real freaking smooth, Kristin.

Noah chuckles. “Did you hear me?”

Crap.

“Sorry, I must still be a little hungover.” Or a little smitten and unable to focus.

He pushes back a strand of my hair that fell forward and tucks it behind my ear. “Well, you look beautiful.”

My fingers grip the edge of the table, tightening at his compliment. “Thank you.” I look at my toes, hoping to hide the blush on my cheeks. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous around a man.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m free from Scott, but it’s strange and unnerving. This shouldn’t be how I’m reacting to him. He’s an assignment, and as a journalist—which I’m calling myself even though in actuality I’m writing for a gossip blog—I should be professional. Noah brings the doe-eyed girl in me out.

Noah’s finger moves to my chin, and he lifts it up. The intensity in his eyes causes butterflies in my stomach to flutter. Has a man ever looked at me like this? I don’t think so. There’s so much desire there that I could drown in it.

I’ve already drowned once before. In fact, I’m still treading water now.

“Noah,” I shake my head. “I . . . I have to pee.” He takes a step back, and I could quite possibly die of mortification. “I mean, I have to see . . . something.”

He laughs, and I slap myself mentally—twice. “No problem. I’ll move so you can . . . see something.”

“Can we just go since I clearly am hell bent on making all of our interactions awkward? I really need this interview, and I’d like for us to do it before I scare you off.”

Noah’s lips turn up, and he lifts his chin. “You want us to do it, huh?”

I release a heavy sigh while looking at the ceiling. “Shoot me now.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He nudges me.

“I guess I deserve it after you babysat my drunk ass all night.”

Noah slowly nods. “This is true.”

I push his chest lightly and giggle. “You’re not supposed to agree.”

“You said it,” he defends.

“I give up.”

Noah wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. “I’m kidding. It was my honor to make sure you didn’t drown in the pool.”

Our eyes meet, and something electric flows between us. It’s different from last night, more intense if that’s even possible. My heart races as his fingers tense, and we stare at each other.

The phone rings, and he slowly drops his arm from around me.

“I should get that,” I croak before clearing my throat.

“Right.”

I grab the phone and see Scott’s number. That’s one way to kill a mood.

“Hello,” I answer, keeping my back to Noah.

“Mommy!”

“Hi, baby.” I smile hearing Aubrey’s voice over the line.

I turn, look at the sexy celebrity standing in my house, and cover the receiver. “It’s my daughter. I’ll be just a second.”

Noah nods.

“Do you miss me?” she asks.

“Of course, I miss you. Are you having fun with Daddy?”

Aubrey lets out a heavy sigh, and I picture her little face. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Daddy is working, and Finn is being mean.”

“I’m sorry, Aub. Maybe you can ask Daddy to do something fun?” I suggest. Scott has never had the kids on his own. I was always there, handling everything and keeping them entertained.

She goes silent for a second. “I guess.”

“Is something wrong, honey?”

I hate hearing her like this. She’s my bubbly, happy kid. Aubrey is always the one who brings people’s spirits up. Her heart is huge, and her smile is contagious.

“No, I miss you. Daddy doesn’t tuck me in like you do, and he doesn’t cook.”

I do my best to explain that he and I are different and comfort her at the same time. This is the part of divorce I wanted to avoid. Having my children struggle is all I worry about. They don’t deserve this, but it’s unavoidable. That doesn’t mean I still don’t hate it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I remind her.

“I’m going to hug you!” Her sweet little voice proclaims.

“You bet you will!”

We hang up, and I release a heavy sigh.

“Everything okay?” Noah asks.

“Yeah.” I smile. “Mom life.”

“Not that I have a clue what that means, but it sounds like your kid loves you very much.”

Still smiling, I walk over to the table to grab their picture. “These are my babies.” Noah grips the photo frame, and I stand beside him. “That’s Finn, he’s ten, and that’s Aubrey, she turned six a month ago. This is the first time they’ve been with their father alone for the night, which sounds crazy, but they’ve always been with me or my parents.”

Noah’s eyes fill with a sadness that mirrors my voice. I don’t think I ever allowed myself a chance to think about it until now. I have no idea what they’ll eat, do, think about, dream of. My parents would come to our house if we wanted to go out, and Scott never wanted to go away just the two of us so they’ve only spent a night at my parents, but I went to get them before they woke up. I’ve been there each morning, and now I’ll have every other weekend without them.

His hand touches my cheek, and I realize a tear fell. “You’re not crazy to miss your kids, Kristin.”

“I’m sorry. I’m the most unprofessional reporter ever.” I wipe the other side of my face, take the photo, and put it back.

“You’re not.” He smiles, but I don’t believe him.

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe a little.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Okay, interview and no alcohol or crying, deal?”

Noah extends his hand. “Deal.”