“Marrying a man with a kid is one step up from dating an ex-con, you know that right?” My best friend, Jenna, was practically screaming, shaking my arm so hard the ice rattled in my drink. I just kept smiling, chewing on my straw like an idiot. “It’s fine,” I’d said, full of a hope that felt foolish now. “A kid will make the house feel more alive.” Back then, I truly believed marriage was an island for two. As long as Leo loved me, nothing else mattered. That belief shattered the night his daughter got sick and his drunk ex-wife showed up, her hand cracking across my cheek twice before I could even register the intrusion. “Leo, is this what you promised me?” she shrieked. “Is this how you ‘wouldn’t let Maddie suffer’? It’s only been a few years and you’ve already found her a wicked stepmother!” The sting on my face brought me back to reality. A hot flash of anger surged through me and I raised my hand to retaliate, but Leo caught my wrist. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Not in front of Maddie. She’ll never forgive you for hitting her mom. Let me handle this.” He moved with a familiar, practiced ease, grabbing Sasha’s coat from the floor, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge, and steering her toward the door. In that moment, I realized Jenna’s warning might not have been an exaggeration after all. Thank God it wasn’t too late. I scrolled through my contacts and pressed a number with no name attached. “Are you still coming home for Thanksgiving? And if so… are you free to go on a date?”
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