Lex
It’s late when I get in. I slump onto the couch and yank off my boots. Then I strip out of the rest of my uniform. There are a million thoughts racing through my head. I need to figure out how I’m going to tell Tabitha I’m back in town and when I’ll be able to see the kids.
Piper and Gregory have no idea I’m back already. As far as they know, I’m still halfway across the world. Tabitha has been great about sending pictures and setting up times to video chat, but there’s still a part of me that’s worried the kids are going to be nervous when they see me. A year is a long time to be away from your kids at any age, but at these ages?
What if they don’t know me?
What if they don’t like me?
Insecurity threatens to overtake me, but I know I can’t let it rule my life. I didn’t get to where I am in my career by stressing out every time something goes wrong. In the heat of battle, every second counts. There’s no room for second-guessing or questioning or worrying. There’s no room for mistakes.
I need to treat my life more like that, but the truth is that relationships aren’t a war. They shouldn’t be, anyway. While I can apply some of my career skills to my failed marriage and to my parenting, I know I need to approach this from another angle. I know I need to really sink into these roles I’ve been assigned.
Tomorrow, I’ll call Tabitha. I’ll bring breakfast over for her and the kids or something. Maybe we’ll go to the park. I don’t know. I need to worry about it tomorrow, though. If I don’t make a firm mental decision to avoid thinking about it, I’m going to be up all night.
I can’t have that.
I make sure the front door to my apartment is locked, and then I get a glass of water from the kitchen. Tabitha kept her promise and made sure to keep my apartment in order. Honestly, I probably should have put all of my stuff in storage while I was gone and broken lease, but the place isn’t up to code and my landlord legally can’t charge a lot for rent. She’s an old retired lady who can use the regular income, and I couldn’t find it in my heart to put her out that way.
Besides, I pay far less than market value for the little one-bedroom. Where else am I going to find a deal like that? Eventually, the place will be purchased by new owners and the building will be torn down or gutted, but for now, I’m taking advantage of it.
And to be honest, it’s nice to be able to come home to a home and not have to stay in a hotel while I find a new place to live.
And it’s nice to know I don’t have to worry about anything because my incredible ex-wife had it all under control.
As I make my way back to my bedroom, I wonder what she’s going to do when I tell her I want her, need her. I wonder how she’s going to react. Tabitha is a spitfire. She’s strong and brave and fierce, but she’s also sweet and soft and wonderful. She’s got this hard exterior, but on the inside, she’s soft and gooey.
On the inside, she’s breakable.
And I broke her.
I know this.
The truth is that we broke each other, or maybe it’s just that the world broke us and we weren’t strong enough to put the pieces back together. Maybe we should have been better, braver. Maybe we should have been fiercer. We should have. We should have fought harder, longer. When you find something incredible, something you don’t want to give up, then you shouldn’t give that up, and I did.
I completely ruined everything.
I’m not completely at fault. I know that. Tabitha has her own issues to work through, but I’ve been watching her these last few years, and she’s not the woman I married. She’s certainly not the woman I divorced. She’s different now.
She’s tried to turn things around for herself and for our kids. She’s tried to make the world a better place, and she’s started with her own life. There’s only so much one woman can do, though, and she shouldn’t have to do it without help.
Tabitha shouldn’t have to face the world all on her own.
I hate that I was gone for so long. I hate that my job meant I had to leave her and Piper and Gregory. I hate it. I hate the way she looked so sad every time we talked. I hate how tired she seemed.
I pulled as many strings as I could to get home early, and now I’m here, and in just a few hours, I’m going to get to see her.
I’m going to get to see my girl.
I reach the door to my bedroom, but before I step inside, I realize something is wrong. All of my senses go on high alert, and I realize I hear breathing coming from the bedroom.
More specifically, I hear snoring.
“Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed,” I mutter, pushing the door open quietly, because I think I know who’s in my room.
Sure enough, the light from the hallway spills into the room and I see a tumble of dark brown hair pouring over my pillow. I’d know that hair anywhere. I’d know that face anywhere.
Tabitha.
She’s here.
She’s in my apartment.
She’s in my bed.
But why?
My first instinct is to wake her up and find out what’s wrong. Has something happened at the house? Where are the kids? Why is she at my place? Shouldn’t she have stayed at Veronica’s?
But then I look at her, really look at her, and my heart swells.
She’s here.
She’s in my bed.
Tabitha is here.
And suddenly, the only thing I want is to wrap my arms around her and kiss her, hug her. Suddenly, the only thing I want is to promise her that everything is going to be okay. Suddenly, all I want is Tabitha.
I step into the room and walk over to the bed. For a second, I think about simply slipping into bed with her and holding her while she sleeps, but the rational part of me knows that’s insane and creepy. I want to be romantic and win her over. I don’t want her to freak the fuck out. Instead of getting into bed, I sit on the edge and gently rub her shoulder.
“Tabby,” I say. “Tabby, wake up.”
Tabitha reaches under her pillow and pulls out a Glock 19, which she aims perfectly at my head.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Listen, asshole,” she says with a yawn. Are her eyes still closed? “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you have exactly four seconds to either tell me or leave. Otherwise, I’m pulling the trigger, and before you ask: yes, this bad boy is loaded.”
Apparently, my ex-wife isn’t as unprepared as I thought she would be. A G19? I recognize this one. I bought it for her last year for her birthday. Yes, I still get my ex-wife birthday presents. I’d be a real dick if I didn’t. She’s the mother of my children, after all, and whether she admits it or not, she’s the love of my life.
“It’s me, Tabitha,” I say slowly, holding my hands up. Shit. I really hope she doesn’t actually shoot me. Tabitha has no qualms about shooting home invaders. It’s one of the things I love most about her. “It’s Lex.”
Her eyes shoot open. They seem to focus and a flash of recognition crosses her face.
“What?” She asks, but doesn’t lower the gun. “What are you doing here?”
“Put the gun down, baby,” I whisper. My hands are still up. I’m not making any sudden movements, even if she is starting to make me a little nervous.
Tabitha suddenly seems to realize she’s still holding a gun and that it’s pointed at me.
“Oh, fuck,” she puts it back under her pillow. “Sorry! I, um, sorry. Wait, what? What are you doing here, Lex? I thought you weren’t coming back for weeks.”
I don’t say anything else. I just reach for her. I reach for my girl and I wrap my arms around her and I just hold her. I probably smell like airplanes and sweat and traveling and germs, but she doesn’t. She smells like lilacs and lavender and all that is good in the world.
She smells like home, and for a little while, I just hold her in my arms.