But it had to be done. And maybe today she could at least attempt to start.
With a deep breath, Jill maneuvered her brand-new SUV through the parking lot and into the midday Savannah traffic. She’d purchased it on a whim about two months ago, back when she’d made her exploratory visit to Savannah to determine if she really did want to move back here. And her time spent with Carmen and Wayne and the kids then had convinced her—yes, she needed to come home. So she’d started the slow process of moving her life from the Caribbean back to Georgia.
The trip to Wayne’s house was short, since they’d lived near the dental center in a brick townhome with a cute, postage-stamp front yard and a multicolor mailbox that Carmen had insisted they paint in order to attract the mailman’s attention. She smiled as she pulled into the driveway, her mind wandering over as many pleasant memories as she could stand.
Jill fished the house key out of her purse and headed for the front door, bracing herself for whatever she might find. Pushing inside, she found the place eerily lived-in. Jackets still hung in the front closet, as though Wayne and Carmen would be stopping by at any time to use them again. A rumpled blanket was thrown over the back of the sofa, just as it had been dropped. Because this house had been lived-in, up until the accident that took them away from this world three weeks ago.
Carmen’s parents—including Maxwell’s father—had taken temporary custody of the kids right after the accident and had done their part to pack up all the things the triplets would need from then on out, as well as tossing all the perishable food into the trash. But that still left a whole world of belongings here. Jill stepped through the house carefully, a sick knot in her gut. The last time she’d been here, she and Wayne and Carmen had laughed for hours after the kids went to bed, sharing ridiculous childhood stories. And now…
She wiped a few tears away. It was better to start somewhere than to not start at all—that was something she lived by. She chose the living room. She’d give herself an hour or two, make what little headway she could, and then pivot to something else on her to-do list.
After digging up some boxes from the kitchen, she started three piles: definitely keep, unsure, and definitely sell or donate. Whatever she was unsure about, she’d get Maxwell’s opinion on, followed by Carmen’s and Wayne’s parents. Though Carmen’s mother—Maxwell’s stepmother—hadn’t been especially involved in Carmen and Wayne’s life since they got together. Carmen had confided in Jill that her mother still resented the fact that Carmen, a lily-white Southern girl, had married a Black man.
It always made Jill’s stomach hurt, thinking about how Carmen’s own mother had abandoned her over something like that, and it made Jill even less inclined to reach out to the woman regarding Carmen’s things. She was just thankful that Carmen had managed to develop a strong bond with Maxwell; even though they weren’t blood-related, they’d been close. And the more family people could hang onto, the better.
Jill’s thoughts wandered sluggishly while she examined trinkets and souvenirs, divvying things up into their corresponding boxes. She stumbled upon a box of photos tucked inside a cabinet, and she spent a full hour combing through the random memories collected there. Some of the photos were from Wayne’s childhood, some featuring Jill herself. Others were from Carmen’s childhood, and she spotted a young Maxwell with his arm slung around Carmen’s shoulders—no trace of his trademark biceps, since they were probably around fourteen in that snapshot.
A folder held some digital printouts of more recent memories. Picnics when Carmen and Wayne were dating. The triplets as newborns. And then…there they were.
Jill and her ex.
Smiling in a photo, sitting side by side in the backyard for Carmen’s baby shower.
Jill’s breath evaporated as she stared at the photo. She’d erased pretty much every existing reminder of her ex, whose name she refused to even utter. But just the sight of his winsome smile—too charming to be sincere—sent her stomach tumbling to the floor.
This photo had been taken mere weeks before she’d begun to put the pieces together about him. Just before her entire world had begun to unravel, thread by thread, until she was just a fool with a tangled mess of string in front of her.
She hurried to put the photos away. She didn’t want to continue down that path any further, and she’d reached her limit for trips down memory lane in general. She set the box of photos in the definitely keep pile, and then took a deep breath.
Time to switch gears.
Jill grabbed her purse and locked up the house, hurrying to her car. She’d handled it pretty well—as well as such a sad task could be handled, she supposed—but now she needed something different. Ideally, the opposite of what she’d just experienced.
And the first thing that came to her mind was seeing the kids.
She used voice recognition to dictate a text to Maxwell while she drove. “Hey, is it okay if I stop by to see the kids real quick?”
His response was fast. “Of course. We’re home. Come on over.”
Relief swept through her, more than she’d expected. Sure, hanging with little kids was a surefire way to turn a bad mood around, but there was something more. She wasn’t just relieved about seeing the triplets. It was that Maxwell was involved too.
Maxwell and the triplets. She hadn’t counted on him becoming a daily part of her existence…but she wasn’t opposed to it, now that it was real.
She tried to steer her thoughts away from Maxwell as she steered the car toward his house. But keeping her mind off him even as she anticipated seeing him after a few days apart was impossible.
But no, she wasn’t giddy. Just…aware. At least that’s what she told herself.
When she pulled up to the gate protecting his driveway, she tapped in the code—already feeling like an NFL VIP—and then eased onto the black asphalt drive. She parked in front of the closed garage door, gathered her purse, and then headed to the front door. Maxwell was already there by the time she reached the porch.
“You came just in time for dinner,” he said, a haughty look on his face that nearly split her in two. Because any other man—specifically her ex—would have paired that look about how she was late, or failing in some way.
But Maxwell used it to lift her up. And she noticed the little things like that.
“And I came hungry, too. How lucky am I today?” The smile that stretched at her lips was genuine, and that was another thing she was coming to appreciate about Maxwell. He had a way of brightening her day, and her spirits, no matter what. She followed him inside the house, where the scent of garlic and bread hung in the air. “What’s on the menu tonight, chef?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, pushing the door shut behind them. “And let me tell you—I made way too much. These kids eat like birds, so I hope you’re extra hungry.”
“From the way it smells, I think I’ll have no problem helping you out.”
He led the way into the kitchen, where the pasta cooked on the back burner while the oven timer ticked down toward zero. The triplets sat behind the island, away from the cooking action, their toys scattered on the floor. Jill kissed each chubby face in turn while the three of them shrieked “Auntie!” and alternated between showing off the toys they played with and taking each other’s things.