Three Boys and a Baby. Laura Altom Marie

Only this time, you’re abandoning two kids instead of one? How are you going to worm your way out of that?”

      “Do you have to be cruel?” she asked, voice shaky while tears streamed down her cheeks. “I said I was sorry. No one’s perfect.”

      Jackson wanted to be cruel.

      More than anything, he wanted to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him.

      But her tears were his undoing, and the rescuer in him took over. “Come here,” he said, tugging her up and into his arms. “We’re both tired. It’s been a long day. Maybe this is all stuff that should be gone over tomorrow?”

      Sniffling, she nodded against his chest. “I love you.”

      Not knowing if he loved her, hated her, or felt a mixture of both, Jackson kept quiet. In the morning, he’d have clarity. Right now, all he wanted was sleep.

      

      AT ONE IN THE MORNING, Ella finally stopped even trying to sleep, tossed back the covers and aimed straight for the peanut butter and chocolate-chunk swirl she’d stashed in the very back of the freezer, hoping it would be safe from little hands.

      Baby Rose had been up a good half-dozen times, leaving Ella feeling more like a zombie than a well-rested physician who had to be in the clinic by eight.

      She’d just closed her eyes upon taking the first sinful bite of ice cream when a knock sounded at the back door. Startled, she jumped, nicking the roof of her mouth with the spoon.

      Through the ruffled back-door curtains, she made out a man’s figure. Heart pounding, she snatched the rolling pin from a jar filled with kitchen utensils, then flipped on the back porch light only to exhale in relief. Her late-night visitor was Jackson.

      Unlocking the door, she asked, “What are you doing here? Is everything all right? Where’s Dillon?”

      “Everything’s sort of fine,” he said with a grimace, brushing past her, overwhelming her with his size. “As for Dillon, he’s sound asleep. Julie’s at the house with him.”

      “She slept over?” Ella couldn’t keep from asking, her right eyebrow rising.

      “No,” Jackson said, face reddening. “It wasn’t that kind of sleepover. She said because of all the National Guard guys in town, she couldn’t get a motel room, so I set her up in the guest room.”

      “Oh.” After setting the rolling pin on the counter, she plopped back down at the kitchen table, wishing she’d slept in a cute baby-doll nightie rather than a baby-stained T-shirt and thin cotton shorts. “Not to be rude, but why are you here?”

      Eyeing the rolling pin, he grinned. “That could’ve hurt.”

      “I’m not accustomed to late-night—or, I guess that would be early-morning—visitors.”

      “Sorry. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep, and if the wind’s blowing the trees just right, there’s a view of your kitchen window from my master bath. I saw you were up, and…” He shrugged. “Got another spoon?”

      She got up to find him a utensil, then handed it to him where he sat in the chair alongside hers. There was something oddly intimate about the moment. The occasional kissing of their spoons, crickets singing through the open window above the sink. The way Jackson’s hair was mussed and the sleepy look in his eyes.

      “So,” he said, piercing the night’s quiet with the single syllable word. “Julie apologized. Burst into tears and said she wants to try getting back together.”

      “Th-that’s wonderful,” Ella said, more than a little taken aback. “I mean, assuming that’s what you want. I know that’s what Dillon’s been hoping for, but…” Her words trailed off as she searched Jackson’s unreadable expression.

      “You know, that’s what’s so weird about the whole thing. Being a family again feels like all I’ve ever wanted, but she hurt me. Bad. When I snapped at you out by the old paddlewheeler—when you said ‘for better or worse’—it was because for so long now, my marriage has been reduced to the or worse portion of our vows. With Dillon still having been gone, in that instant, I guess I felt as though if one more bad thing slammed me, I’d crack.”