Looking down at the text Thane sent earlier as I compare it to a painting in my studio, he’s right. It does look just like the picture. Texting him back, I respond, You’ve got a good eye and send a picture of the painting to him.

“Braxley, it’s time to get in the shower,” I holler.

“‘Kay, Mommy,” he responds, and I start the water for him as he undresses and then hops in. “Can you get my race car pajamas?”

“Sure, I think they’re in the dryer, I’ll grab them now. You be safe, no jumping around. Stay on your rubber mat and wash yourself really well, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” he smiles back at me as I peek at him through the curtain. His grin missing that one front tooth melts my heart.

Racing downstairs and into the garage where my washer and dryer are, I notice the garage door is still open. I press the button to close it, but nothing happens. Looking at the sensors, both are clear, and I try again, but still nothing. Taking the remote from the car, it won’t work either. Frustrated that another thing in this house is broken, I grab Braxley’s PJ’s and dial my dad as I head back into the bathroom.

“You good, buddy?” I ask him.

“Yup.”

My dad doesn’t answer, and as I go to leave him a message, his voicemail reminds me that he’s traveling, which I totally forgot about. I hang up and ask Braxley, “Did you close the garage when we got home tonight?”

“I pushed the button, Mommy, just like you told me to.”

He finishes his shower, and I help him dry off and get dressed. “Brush your teeth, and I’ll meet you in your room.”

Going back into the garage to try and get it closed again, I press the button, and nothing happens. I begin to get aggravated and slam my hand against the button on the wall, but still nothing. Looking at the…whatever it’s called on the ceiling; I think Ben once told me there is a rope I can pull to close it. But all I see it a two-inch frayed string.

My phone vibrates, and I see a message from Thane, Could I buy that picture from you?

How about you fix my garage door and I’ll give it to you for payment?

Is it broken?

Yeah, it won’t shut, and I don’t know what to do.

Can you pull on the red rope?

I snap a picture of the remaining rope and send it to him, just as Braxley peeks his head out of the doorway. “All done, Mommy.”

“Okay, baby.” Leaving the garage open, I head inside and tuck Braxley into bed. He hands me a story to read him that he picked out, and I scoot in close. I can come by now Thane texts me.

Thanks, just come in, I’m putting Braxley down.

“All right, you ready?”

He nuzzles against me. His short hair is already dry, and I hold him tightly, loving our story time so much. This is where we get lost in magical worlds, and for a brief moment, that pain of our past washes away. I imagine Ben, sitting on the floor listening to us, just like he used to, and I find peace in hoping that he still does.

“There once was a fierce orange dragon, who lived deep in the forests of India.” I use my best narrator voice as I tell him the story. Braxley stares at the pictures as I read. “He was like no other dragon in the world…he was special and had magical powers. But his powers made the other animals scared of him, so he lived all alone and only went out early in the morning before the other animals awoke and the nocturnal animals were asleep.”

“What does nocturnal mean?”

“It’s someone who stays up all night.”

“Like you, you’re nocturnal, Mommy?”

“No, Mommy isn’t. I just have a hard time sleeping. Nocturnal are animals who sleep all day and are awake all night.”

“Like bats?”

“Yes, like bats,” I say, and he gives me a long yawn. I continue on with the story and make it through only a couple more pages before he’s out. Closing the book, I watch the tiny breaths reel out of him and kiss the top of his head. I’m so thankful that I have him. If I didn’t, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Quietly, I slip out of his room, and as I enter the kitchen, there is a glass of wine sitting on the counter for me. God, Thane is such a good man.

Picking it up, I head into the garage where I find him on a ladder, messing with the motor—that’s what it’s called—to the garage door. I take a sip admiring him for a second. Looking at him up there reminds me of Ben.

“So you gonna be able to fix it?”

“Hell yeah, I will,” he responds confidently. “I see you found your wine.”

“I did. Thank you for pouring me a glass, that was very kind of you.”

“I try,” he smirks down at me, and as he fidgets with the wiring, I find my eyes scanning his body—his perfectly sculpted abs are peeking at me from beneath his shirt that is lifted from his arms being above his head.

“Thanks for coming over.”

“Of course. Did you get Brax down okay?”

“I did. I didn’t even make it through the whole story.”

“What did you read to him?”

“Oranges The Magical Dragon.”

“Oh, Jack loves that one, especially at the end when Oranges saves the forest.”

“Well, I didn’t finish it, thanks for ruining it for me.”

“Damn, sorry.”

“I’m only kidding. So you worked today?”

“I did, I was in five states. On the ground, that is.”

“Wow, busy day.”

“It was.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“With Char, hopefully asleep.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She doesn’t have a lot of structure when she has him. He runs the show if you know what I mean.”

“That’s gotta be hard.”

“Not harder than what you’ve gone through. How are you holding up?” he asks me. And I’m not sure how to answer him. I have my moments. The pain comes and goes, but I don’t always want it to be about me and what I’ve been through.

“I’m okay. I started a new painting today.”

“Yeah, what of?”

“I’ll show you, and you can tell me what you see.”

“Will you push the button?” he asks me, and I try, but nothing happens.

“I hate to say it, but I think your motor is fried.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, notice how the light here won’t turn on anymore?”

“So what, it worked to open when we got home and then just died?”

“I think so. But a new one’s only a couple hundred dollars, and I can put it in for you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I tell him.

“Do you want to back your car into the driveway and I’ll manually close the door?”

“Sure.”

Grabbing my keys, I back my car out, and then he closes the door, his arms flexing as he maneuvers it down, and then he latches it locked before we head inside.

“Do you want a glass?” I offer him, as I top mine off.

“Sure.”

“Thanks for trying to fix the garage door.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he steps in front of me, and I swallow, the closeness of his body to mine has my heart racing, and I have to stop it. “Wanna see the painting?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

We head into my studio and on the easel is the new painting. Thane’s eyes are drawn to it right away, and he keeps walking closer and closer until finally, he sits down on the stool I spent the day on creating it as I let all of my pain out while I painted. His glass of wine hangs in his hand, dangling over the wood floor and he’s lost in the colors, the same way I felt painting it—so lost.

“Did you do all this today?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop once I started.”

“God, it’s beautiful, Faye.”

He touches the canvas, feeling the dry paint beneath his large fingertips, and I stand behind him, breathing him in. Closing my eyes, I let myself relish this moment. I’m not sure why when I’m around Thane, he makes me feel so turned on, but he really does.

“Are you going to sell it?” he asks me, pulling me back to reality.

“Maybe, what do you see when you look at it?”

“I think it’s the most breathtakingly painful and beautiful painting I’ve ever seen.”

Studying the mixture of paints and how they bleed together, painting a vision of what one could describe as heaven and someone else might see as hell, I lose my breath, and suddenly Thane has me in his arms. I cling to him as if he is the answer to my problems. Leaning into his touch as he cups my face, I can feel Ben urging me for some strange reason, telling me that it’s okay. But I don’t feel like this is okay, not at all.

Thane holds me, not giving me an inch of wiggle room, and his breath is heady against my lips. Then slowly he brings his lips to mine and our mouths mold together. A blazing connection ignites, so hot my soul burns. He’s tender kissing me, gentle like he doesn’t want to hurt me, and the gesture reminds me of how much pain I’ve been through. How hurt I still am. I pull away from him and second-guess everything. That connection to Ben is suddenly gone, Ben is not here, and Ben would not be okay with this. This is another man and what I am doing is betraying my husband.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m not ready,” I tell him. The expression across his face is wounded. I’ve hurt him, and it’s the last thing I wanted to do. But…I’m just not ready.

“It’s okay; I shouldn’t have done that without asking you first. I…I don’t know why I did it. I lost control of my actions. I’m very sorry.”

“You should go,” I tell him, tears burning the back of my eyes and he nods setting his glass down on the table by the door. Before walking away from me, he kisses the top of my hair, and the simple gesture makes everything that much worse. With my back against the wall, I slide to the floor, hugging my knees, disgust running through my veins. What have I done? What am I thinking?

Looking at my empty glass, I want to blame it on the liquor, but I know that two glasses of wine are not what caused me to give in to him. I did this on my own and can only be mad at myself, not Thane. I asked him to fix my garage door when I could’ve called a company or asked my neighbor to take a look at it. But I didn’t. For some reason, I let myself get lost in the connection we have. That pull towards Ben made feel like he was giving me his blessing when really it was all in my mind. Because he’s fucking dead—gone—never coming back to me. There is nothing or no one that is going to bring him back no matter what.