I heated up a meal from the freezer but I don’t remember what it was that I actually ate. The kids didn’t complain though so it must have been taco casserole, mac and cheese, or something with chicken tenders.

“He’s going to be okay.” Kelly squeezed my arm. She’d stayed for dinner but Justin was waiting for her, so she and Abby were heading out. She hugged me. Tight. “Just remember that.”

Words wouldn’t come to form a response, not when my imagination was reliving what poor Rocco had gone through, so I just nodded. He was only a dog. It shouldn’t be bothering me so much. But Rocco was innocent, and he’d been at doggie daycare so I could have my meeting.

And Rob loved him.

I sighed. I loved the furball too.

Dammit.

I blinked hard.

“You know—” Kel winced and broke off when Abby yanked at a lock of her hair. She untangled little fingers and said, “I know you’re really good at it, but sooner or later you have to shed that martyr cape and let the rest of the world help.”

All the air left my lungs in a rush. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My sister—my younger sister’s face was full of pity “Oh sweetie. I love you, but you’re wrong.”

“I’m—”

“No one is perfect,” she said. “Or expects you to be.” Abby let out a screech and Kelly smiled down at her daughter. “Time for bed, huh?”

She called out a goodbye and headed for her car.

“I know I’m not perfect,” I muttered, closing the door and slumping forward to rest my forehead against the plank of wood.

“How about perfect for me?”

Rob’s voice made me straighten and my eyes immediately fill with tears. I turned, regret pouring through me when the smile he’d been wearing slipped from his face.

My news would further cement that.

He was in uniform, his duty belt still around his waist. I’d always loved him in blues. He was the female fantasy come to life.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

The question, filled with obvious concern and actual emotion for the first time in what felt like forever, coupled with him extending his arms, made me forget everything. The woman’s voice in the background of the call, the way he’d said I was nothing, his distance, how he’d been so oblivious and missed so much.

I wanted those arms around me. I wanted that comfort.

I wanted my husband back.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped into his embrace. Tears slipped down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and pooling onto the collar of my shirt. With Rob, it had always been different. All the walls that existed to keep me safely distant weren’t there with him.

But lately they’d crept in with my husband, and I didn’t know how to stop building them.

Not when he kept hurting me.

Not when I allowed myself to be hurt without talking to him.

Yet in that moment, none of it mattered. I had my husband, my best friend, and he was there for me.

“Shh,” he said, stroking the hair back from my face. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

“Why’s Mommy crying?” Allie asked.

I sniffed, trying to quiet my sobs. I didn’t want to upset her or Max.

“Mom?” Max asked, grabbing me around the leg.

“I-I’m okay,” I said, my voice only slightly shaky. “Just a little upset.”

“Why don’t you guys go pick out your books, and I’ll read to you tonight?” Rob said.

“Okay!” Allie started to run off before making a skidding turn and throwing her arms around me. “Love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

Max touched my arm, and I glanced down at him. He studied me for a long moment before nodding and pressing a kiss to my hand. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

He ran upstairs.

Rob waited until the pounding footsteps had faded before he took my hand and led me toward the kitchen. “Okay, spill,” he said, pushing me down in a chair then crouching in front of me.

“It’s Rocco. He got out today and fell down a ravine. H-he broke his leg, and Dr. Johnson wants to keep him overnight in case of internal bleeding.” I took a deep breath because my voice was getting shrill and my eyes were filling with tears again.

“How did he get out?”

It was a reasonable question. And also one I didn’t want to answer.

“Sandy isn’t sure,” I hedged.

Rob raised a brow and sat back on his haunches. “Why would Sandy be unsure?” His tone was harder now, laced with no-nonsense cop.

“Because Rocco was at Bow Wow Patrol when he got out.”

“Why?”

I hesitated.

“Melissa.”

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” My eyes went to a spot over his right shoulder, mentally dissecting the kitchen clutter. I needed to sort the mail, finish the dishes—

“Melissa”—my gaze flashed back to his face, angry and dark—“you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

I burst to my feet. “I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you, but you blew me off.”

“We talked last night.”

“Gah! I hate it when you do that.” I paced the floor we’d laid together and wasn’t that memory a nice little slap in the face at a moment like this? “Nitpicking my words, tacking on little disclaimers so that you don’t have to be wrong. Yes, we talked last night. No, you didn’t give me enough of your precious time so that I could tell you what’s been going on in my life.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he sighed and said, “I thought it was our life.”

“It hasn’t been our life for a long time.” When he didn’t reply, I said, “You might have been home with me and the kids in body, but your mind wasn’t here, your heart wasn’t and hasn’t been here for months.”

Silence.

“You pulled back, Rob, and I miss you.”

For a second, I thought my husband might actually make an appearance. His eyes softened as he stood and crossed to me, lightly brushing his knuckles down my cheek when he got near.

Then his face closed down. “What haven’t you told me?”

He might as well have slapped me. The words were cold, his expression tight and frigid.

I recited the facts in monotone. “I cooked for Justin’s work colleague a few days ago. His wife is an executive at a cooking channel. She loved my food, checked out my blog and recipes, and asked to set up a meeting with me today. They want me to come to New York for a screen test.”

“No.”

I blinked, startled from my recitation. “What?”

“No. You can’t go to New York for a screen test.”

I stepped back.

Rob stepped forward.

I lifted my chin. “Why not?”

“Your place is here. The kids.” He shook his head, turned away. “Rocco already got hurt because of this stupid idea—”

“Rocco getting hurt was an accident.”

“Because of this woman and her meeting,” he said, taking his own turn at pacing the floor. “He would have been at home if not for that.”

“It’s not Tammy’s fault Rocco was injured.”

“Fine,” he snapped and thrust a hand through his hair. “It was your fault.”

My stomach twisted, that wonderfully painful guilt flooding in. I held it close, let it batter me even as I pretended my husband’s words hadn’t cut me deep. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“You’re being irresponsible.”

I laughed. Laughed until my stomach hurt and tears threatened. I’d been called a lot of things in my life—by my mother, by jerky kids at school growing up, even by Kelly in her teenage years when I’d been more mom than sister.

But never by my husband.

“Irresponsible.” A shake of my head. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“I—”

The pounding of footsteps radiated through the floor above our heads and was punctuated by a resounding, “MOM!”

It also gave me the out that was needed. My insides felt like they’d been sliced by knives. I was exhausted. I was hurt and emotional and . . .

“Go read to our kids,” I murmured.

For once, I didn’t head to the fridge, didn’t pull out ingredients and start cooking my pain away.

Instead, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, a glass from the cupboard, and headed out the back door.

Some things just called for wine.

I didn’t look back as I went through the door and settled myself into a chair on the deck. I didn’t need to. This house and family were my everything, and I could track every movement without a wasted glance.

I heard Rob climb the stairs—not bothering to avoid the creaking one. I listened to the kids’ muffled but clearly excited voices as they talked about their days. I watched the glow disappear from the deck as their lights were flicked off. I heard quiet footfalls descending . . . and that damned squeaky step again.

I heard Rob’s car start up.

And drive away.

I finished the bottle of wine.