That thought still makes my eyes mist up.

Turns out, Vale got her old job back with the Cold Fury, so despite Hawke’s grumblings, I know he’s a very happy man. I note that Hawke is now kissing Vale in Max’s kitchen—no wait, that’s my kitchen too now—and I use that as a good opportunity to sneak my way upstairs. I can hear Max’s voice right away and I head to the room at the end of the hall. This brings me past Levy’s room, which he chose to go with a dinosaur motif, then past Rocco’s room, which reflected his love of science. There was border wallpaper of all the planets and he had us put glow-in-the-dark stars on all the ceilings.

Both boys were not in their rooms but rather outside playing in the backyard, even though it was a seriously chilly day.

When I hit Annabelle’s room—which is my favorite by far with its pink princess decor—I find Max sitting on the floor with her as she dresses her doll up. He’s not actively playing with her but merely sitting down cross-legged and engaging in quiet conversation while she dresses the doll.

“Think Levy and Rocco will like their new school?” she asks him. Her back is to me so she doesn’t see me lean against the doorjamb, my arms crossed over my chest as I listen in. Max does see me though and I know this only because his eyes come to mine briefly, where they smile at me, before turning his attention back to Annabelle.

“I’m sure they’re going to love it,” he tells her, and she nods in silent agreement. “Ben goes there, and so do Ruby and Violet.”

“And do you think I’ll like my new school?” she asks, her fingers working the buttons on the doll’s dress. I can hear a little bit of tension in her voice and my heart squeezes for her.

We decided to enroll Annabelle in private daycare—well, they call them educational learning centers—to get her some more social interaction. She’ll enter into prekindergarten there and then start public school in the fall.

This was a source of some contention between Max and me because I absolutely cannot afford that school on what I’m making. Well, I could if I didn’t have any other expenses, but because I feel like I should be paying something to Max for my share of the house, that means I do have other expenses. While my share would be paltry in comparison to what it costs to run this monstrosity of a house, he knows it’s something I feel strongly about at this point.

But once again we both proved we could talk things out, and I could let go a little bit of my stubbornness and pride. We eventually decided that my income would go toward groceries, utilities, and Annabelle’s school. Max would cover everything else.

I capitulated and I didn’t dwell on it. I decided I couldn’t waste any more time in worries over how people would view me with Max. The only thing that mattered was what he thought.

“You will absolutely love your new school,” Max tells her with exuberance, then my heart melts again when he takes his big hand and palms the top of her head in a reassuring manner.

It melts further when Annabelle finally raises her eyes to his and I see them filled with trust and acceptance of what he says.

Four days later . . .

My phone rings and my stomach cramps a bit when I see it’s Dwayne calling. I’d not heard a peep out of him after his letter to me back in November. Max and I discussed how we should respond, and ultimately Max talked me into talking to an attorney so I could get some solid advice on how we should handle Dwayne. The attorney gave us great information, including until Dwayne got his child support caught up, he essentially had no rights nor any other leverage over us. Thus, we decided it was best if I didn’t respond to him. Sort of call him on his bluff and let’s just see if Dwayne will be Dwayne and sort of disappear the way he’s known for doing.

Looks like my reprieve from having to deal with him though is over.

I put my paintbrush down, take a deep breath, and pick up my phone. “Hello, Dwayne.”

“Where are you?” he asks in a bewildered voice. “I’m at your apartment and someone else is living there.”

I consider lying to him for all of about two seconds, but I know I can’t do that. If I’m going to handle Dwayne, I have to do it with everything laid out on the table. “The kids and I moved in with Max.”

“Oh,” is all he says, and he neither sounds put out by this information or happy about it. “Well, I need to see you. We need to talk.”

I agree. We need to talk, but it’s going to be done on my terms, and that essentially means that I want Max by my side when I do this. He’s my rock solid support and I need his strength. Unfortunately, he’s in New York and won’t be home until tomorrow evening.

“I can do it day after tomorrow,” I tell Dwayne.

“It has to be today,” he says, again . . . not overly put out but more just in a rush or something.

“Well it can’t be done today,” I tell him. “Day after tomorrow. I’ll have to text you the time as I’m not sure what Max’s schedule will be that day.”

I brace for an argument, but instead he says, “Okay . . . fine. Just text me when and where.”

Two days later . . .

The doorbell rings and Max gets up off the couch we’d been sitting on to answer it. I go ahead and stand up, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

Max decided to have Dwayne come here, and I had to agree with his logic. His reasoning was that Dwayne was still the kids’ father, and while he didn’t have guardianship, he still did have some visitation rights. Granted, those rights were suspended by the court because his child support was past due, but Max wanted to try to show him we could all get along.

So Max opens the door and Dwayne is standing there, looking in awe of Max’s house.

Correction . . . our house. Still having a hard time getting used to that.

Max steps back and says to Dwayne, “Come on in.”

Dwayne does so, and looks around at the bronzed tiled entryway before looking up at the massive iron light that hangs from the second story ceiling with the staircase winding around it.

When his gaze drops, it locks on mine. “Hey Jules.”

Jules? That’s interesting.

It’s also interesting that his voice sounds almost humble.

I don’t trust it for a minute.

“Come on into the kitchen,” I tell Dwayne, and turn my back on him. I can hear him and Max following as I walk through the formal sitting area, past the wet bar area with the staircase that leads down to the basement, and into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”