(5) Ex-wife

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Chassie George

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Chassie George

Ethan rushed out of the car and dashed toward his grandparents, scattering cobblestones in his wake. I held my breath, horrified that I was unable to rush after him because after the long car ride, I still needed to stretch my legs.

My parents both stood on our front steps, their arms spread out for him – doesn't matter whose arms Ethan's hurried feet will take him first.

I regarded the beautiful house I have so much childhood memories in. We lived in the nicer neighborhood of town and even then, our house stands out in its graceful perch.

My mom has that extensive garden the neighbors admire. It wasn't her handiwork but at least she owns up to paying for gardeners to do all the "magic." She had a circle of friends that comes over more often than I invite my own.

Our home was never dull. She made sure of that. She enjoys parties as much as Kathie does. But she enjoys them more when she's hosting them.

"It's never changed at all," Nathan says from behind me. He unloads our suitcases from his trunk, Tessa helping out even with his firm refusal.

I look over my shoulder. "Never changed," I parroted. "Can I help you with that? I think I'm not getting any hugs here. They don't seem to miss me that much."

Nathan chuckles. "I can give you a hug."

I rolled my eyes. "That doesn't count."

"Chassie George!" My mother leaps in front of me, armed with a hug that takes me back to my childhood. It felt so nice to smell her perfume over again. It has always given me comfort from a scraped knee to a heartache. "You have no idea how this makes me happy."

"I can tell. I'm running out of air," I breathe.

She puts me in arm's length. "You've gained some weight," she sandwiched my face between her hands and looks me over, "but you're still my beautiful angel." Her rich brown eyes that match Kathie's rounded in delight.

Her hair barely shows any touch of gray, in fact, she's barely aged at all. It has nothing to do with her marrying my dad at eighteen who was just as young and that she had me when she was twenty. My mother never really faded as the beauty queen. She's only bloomed into a celebrity mom with a shimmering background behind her.

"I gained some. Thank you for not making me feel bad about it," I teased.

"Hush. I mean it. You look great."

Dad comes up from behind her, arms out for me. I'm getting hugs after all. "Come here and give your old man a hug."

"Really, dad? 'Old man'? Are you kidding? You look like the last time I saw you." I ushered myself to his waiting embrace.

Kathie is yet to grace me with her version of welcoming hug when she gets back from the preschool she volunteers at. Our mother has always loved charity works. Apparently, Kathie Jane happened to inherit her passion for altruism.

* * *

Ethan played with my parents in the garden. He barely looked like he spent hours on the road. He was asleep the entire ride though, so he's saved up a lot of energy – not that he's ever ran out of it. I lost my train of thought when my suitcases thudded on the floor.

"Sorry. I hope you don't have anything fragile in here." Nathan winced and laid them carefully on the foot of my bed.

I gesture a dismissive hand as a reply. I walk around the bed and dumped myself on it. It bounced against my back as I stare at the ceiling. "This feels the same."

Nathan engulfs me in an amused gaze. "Is that a good thing?"

"Definitely a good thing," I sighed. "Come here. This bed hasn't changed a bit." I scoot to make room for him.

He chuckled and lowers himself next to me.

I rolled to my side, grinning. "So, how's it feel?"

"Just like when we were kids." He grins back.

We stayed on the bed, both eyes on the cream-colored ceiling. It's been a long time since I felt a sense of familiarity. "This brings good memories."

I tuck my arm under my cheek and stared. His eyes stilled when they flick to mine, looking right through me like they always did. And I have always looked back as if searching for the same thing he has been.

I stare because I want to know if they're a glowing light blue like other days, or if they're a burning sapphire. I still hadn't decided which I like more. Light blue is when he's calm and collected. Darker when he's emotionally agitated. Or just happy.

"Happy?" He murmurs.

"Yep. Are you?"

As if to answer my question for him, his eyes went bluer. 

 

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