My natural inclination was to throw on yoga pants and a sweatshirt, but there was part of me that wondered if I should look nicer while Nick was here. It wasn’t that I wanted him to be attracted to me or anything; I just didn’t want him to think I was a slob.

Not that he didn’t know me better.

Not that he hadn’t seen me in yoga pants and a sweatshirt a million times.

But I couldn’t help wanting to show off a little bit for him. I wanted him to notice me like I noticed him. I wanted him to look at me and think, have I ever really seen this girl before? Do I realize what I lost?

Because maybe it was just me or maybe I was crazy, but those were the thoughts tumbling through my head.

Had I lost the best thing in my life? Had I lost the best I could do? The only man that would put up with me and love me for me?

Even if we had problems?

I swallowed down my remorse and changed into my black yoga pants and an old sweatshirt. I had cut the neck off of it in college, so it hung off my shoulder in a way that maximized comfort and cuteness.

Or at least I thought so.

I took my time upstairs, fiddling with my long dark hair. It was naturally curly, not like Kara’s wild hair, but there were some definite volume issues I had to work out on a daily basis. I usually wore it down to work or partially back, but nothing felt better than at the end of the day when I could throw it up on top of my head in a messy bun.

I was pretty sure that would be what heaven felt like. Like a thousand years of messy buns.

I stared at myself in the mirror for long minutes after that. I looked at my dark brown eyes and the light smattering of freckles that dotted my nose and cheeks. I tried to rub away the barely there crow’s feet that had started to crease next to my eyes and the smile lines I knew would only worsen.

Thirty.

I would be thirty-one soon.

And this was the moment in my life I had finally realized I was getting old. If not old, then older.

I thought back to when I first met Nick and how I had imagined my life at thirty.

This was not it.

I had not planned on getting divorced.

I had not planned to live in a tiny house on the edge of the city.

I had not planned to feel this much stress or this much emptiness.

Once upon a time, thirty had felt like I would finally have made it.

It had felt like a destination.

Like a good destination.

It wasn’t fair of me to ask Nick to change his expectations if I wasn’t willing to change mine. Was my life so bad?

Apart from the divorce, was it really such a terrible thing I didn’t have the perfect house, the perfect job, the perfect two-point-five kids?

My hands settled on my abdomen and I felt a stinging pain lance across my soul.

Some things were okay. I loved this house. There were days that I even loved my job. And if I didn’t love it, at least I felt fulfilled by it.

But there were things I wanted too, things that weren’t terrible to want, things that were worth being disappointed with.

My marriage for instance.

My lack of kids.

This shattering of my heart and spirit.

I needed to do something. I needed to fix this hole inside of me and figure out what else I could have in life that would replace these things.

Or at least I needed to heal and move on.

I needed to change my expectations… my dreams. I needed to find new ones.

I needed to find something else to hope and wish for.

Unable to look at myself for a second longer, I turned away from the mirror and made my way back downstairs. My stomach grumbled loudly and I was happy to feel hunger again.

Ruby’s had been the catalyst yesterday. I had been able to eat ever since and my body thanked me for finally getting some nourishment.

Nick was just finishing up with the sink when I walked into the kitchen. He’d removed his oxford and stripped down to the black undershirt he wore beneath it.

I swallowed convulsively.

That was just not fair.

I had to invest millions of dollars in antiaging creams and worry about my boobs trying to high five my bellybutton. And he turned thirty and looked like that. Like thirty was the best thing that ever happened to his face.

And womankind.

Men were the worst.

He turned around with a half-smile tilting his lips. “When I was out in the garage, I checked out your car. When’s the last time you had the oil changed?”

I swallowed again, but for completely different reasons. “The oil?” Oops. He was going to be so pissed. “I think it was probably last month.”

He raised his eyebrows in challenge. “Last month?”

“Maybe it was the month before that…?”

“Or maybe it was when I changed it last spring?”

I pressed my lips together and tried not to look guilty. “Is it bad?”

He let out a patient sigh. I expected him to lecture me or rip into me about how I break everything I touch, but he didn’t. Instead, he put his wrench down and said, “Do you want me to change it while I’m here?”

“No, that’s okay,” I rushed to say. “I can take it in tomorrow.”

“Take it in where?”

I hoped he didn’t notice the weighted pause while I struggled to come up with, “The… oil change place.”

“The oil change place?”

I cleared my throat. “Sure. The place… with all the oil.”

“How about I just do it now, so you don’t have to figure out where the place with all the oil is.”

I blinked rapidly and tried to figure out how to get out of this. I couldn’t let him change my oil. The sink was one thing. His name was on the mortgage so he had a vested interest in the house not falling apart. But my car was something else. It was my responsibility. He had forfeited his right to help when he moved out.

Why did we get married so young? I should know how to do these stupid things on my own!

Except I moved straight from a college dorm into an apartment with him and I had never learned how to be a grown up on my own. Nick had always taken care of everything.

He’d always taken care of me.

“Let me do it, Kate. I’ll feel better and your car will feel better.”

I looked at the counter where he’d set his ice cream bowl while he worked on the sink. “Then let me at least order dinner. As a thank you.”

His blue eyes lit up with something I couldn’t describe. Happiness? Satisfaction?

Hunger?

“Really?” He was hesitant, but I could tell he was interested.

“We’re both hungry, right? Consider it a thank you for keeping me from falling into disrepair.”

His mouth spread in a wide smile. “Alright, yeah. That sounds good.”

“Pizza?

“You pick. I’ll be happy with whatever.”

“Okay, sure. You change my oil. I’ll get us dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds good.”

He walked out of the kitchen and my stomach ignited with nerves.

What had I just done?

Chapter Nine

16. He’s a bad habit I can’t shake.

I waited to order the pizza until Nick came in from the garage. In the meantime, I had cut up some cheese and laid it on a plate with crackers. I didn’t have much for food, but I always had cheese and crackers.

I survived on cheese and crackers.

Good cheese, though, like white cheddar and smoked Gouda. Not Kraft Singles- much to Nick’s dismay.

He grabbed a few slices from the plate and smiled at me. “This is nice.”

“I figured you’d be starving by now.”

He nodded his head and took another slice of pepper jack. “Do you mind if I shower before we eat?”

I ignored everything that buzzed through me. A thousand emotions mingled together and made me hot and cold all at the same time. I was frustrated with him for spending so much time over here, mad that he even stopped by, hurt from our past, heartbroken from our present, but something else too. Something I couldn’t name.