Moving Out
“It wasn’t.” My voice was hoarse. “He left. And I… I don’t know. I feel like I broke something I can’t fix.”
Jo didn’t say anything, so I kept going. I needed to let it out. I needed someone to absorb it without judgment.
“I loved Rowan first,” I whispered. “You know that. Back when I was young, before the marriage turned into a cage, before the heartbreak—he was the first person I gave my heart to.”
Jo nodded slowly. “First love stuff… it doesn’t just go away.”
“No,” I agreed, staring down at my hands. “But Asher was the one who stayed. He held me together. I didn’t have to beg him to love me. I didn’t have to prove anything to him. He just... was.”
“So why are you crying over the guy who left?” Jo asked gently. “And don’t say it like I’m judging. I’m not. I’m trying to understand.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
She raised a brow. “Remi.”
I looked up at her, and for a moment I felt smaller than I had in years. “Why do I like toxicity?”
Jo blinked. “Okay. Wow. You just jumped straight to it.”
I laughed, but it came out watery. “Is it because he’s my first love? Is that it? Some chemical imprinting thing I can’t shake off?”
Jo tilted her head and gave me the kind of look you only get from someone who’s seen you cry over nothing and also stitch up wounds without flinching. “I can’t believe a neurosurgeon is asking me this.”
I let out an actual laugh, and it felt strange. Unsteady. But real.
“You open brains for a living,” she went on. “But you’re asking me why you’re in love with a man who drove you clinically insane for three years?”
“Yes,” I said, sniffling. “Exactly.”
Jo leaned back against the cabinets with me, thoughtful. “Okay. Here’s my unlicensed, unqualified, Jo-style explanation: You loved him when you were soft. When you were unscarred and optimistic and believed in second chances. And that part of you—what’s left of it—is clinging to him because he’s the only person who remembers her.”
I blinked. “Wow.”
“I know.” She nodded. “That was poetic as hell. I’m honestly gonna write that in my Notes app later.”
I laughed again, covering my face. “God, Jo.”
She nudged my shoulder. “You’re not broken because you love him, Remi. You’re not dumb. You’re not blind. You know who he was. You’re choosing to see who he might be now. And maybe that’s dangerous. Or maybe it’s brave.”
“Or maybe it’s just sad.”
“Sad can still be strong.”
I looked at her, eyes tired. “Asher deserved better.”
Jo gave me a soft smile. “He did. But you also deserve to follow your heart—even if it’s a disaster.”
“It is a disaster,” I groaned.
“Then I’ll bring popcorn.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “You’re the worst emotional support system.”
She grinned. “And yet, here you are. Crying into my hoodie.”
I leaned my head back against the cabinet and exhaled. My chest felt a little lighter. Still bruised, still aching—but lighter.
Jo nudged me again. “So… you’re really doing this? Moving in with Rowan?”
I nodded. “Yeah. For the kids. For security. For this insane, stupid, fragile chance that maybe he’s finally the man I used to see glimpses of.”
She didn’t respond right away. Then—“Okay. Then we do it together. But I get the guest room with the purple curtains.”
I smiled. “Fine. But don’t touch my espresso machine.”
“I am your espresso machine.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me for it.”
I didn’t say it.
But I squeezed her hand.
That was enough.
****
We had slept with one eye opened and the other close.
And we spent the day packing.
The sun had started to dip behind the rooftops by the time Jo and I finished stuffing the first round of boxes with clothes, books, and toys. The house smelled like dust and old wood and that faint mix of laundry detergent and memories.
I hadn’t told the twins yet. I was still trying to figure out how.
Jo had taken over folding duty after watching me zone out for the third time over Laura’s favorite hoodie.
Then there was a loud honk outside. Not one car. Multiple.
Jo peered through the blinds and let out a slow whistle. “Okay. Either the President just arrived… or Rowan has absolutely no concept of subtlety.”
I raised an eyebrow and went to the window beside her.
And froze.
There were three sleek black cars—luxury SUVs—and one gleaming silver one that looked like it belonged in a museum or a superhero movie. Drivers stood beside them, all in tailored suits.
“What the hell,” I muttered under my breath. “I told him we’d pack light.”
Jo was already laughing. “Maybe this is light for him. You did marry a billionaire with an ego the size of Lagos.”
I opened the door and stepped out, arms folded, just in time to see Rowan step out of the first car, dressed like he’d just come from a boardroom—pressed shirt, sleeves rolled just enough, dark pants, not a hair out of place.
He looked around the neighborhood like he was surprised it still existed.
I walked up to him, stopping at the bottom of the porch. “I thought you said we were starting small.”
He gestured casually to the lineup of vehicles. “This is small.”
I blinked at him. “No. No, it’s not. When you show up with four drivers and half the Forbes transport fleet, it’s not small, Rowan.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the cars. “You’re exaggerating. That one’s just for Jo. She said she wanted leg room.”
Jo waved from the doorway. “He’s not wrong.”
I turned to him again. “You didn’t have to come.”
He met my eyes. “I know. I wanted to.”
Before I could say anything else, I heard the familiar sound of feet slapping against the hallway floor inside.
And then—
“Handsome uncle!”
Laura bolted through the doorway, barefoot and grinning, with her braids bouncing behind her. She ran straight to Rowan and wrapped her arms around his legs.
He blinked, stunned at first. Then he smiled, crouching to her level. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“You came with so many cars!” she squealed. “Are we going on a secret mission?”
Rowan chuckled. “Something like that.”
Larry appeared a second later, slower and more composed. He eyed the cars and then looked at Rowan, arms crossed like a miniature adult. “Is this really necessary?”
Rowan’s mouth twitched. “Hello again Larry.”
Larry nodded. “Hello to you sir. I know who you are. We had a rough start.”
“I know,” Rowan said gently.
There was a beat of quiet between them. Then Laura poked her brother and whispered, not very subtly, “He’s even more handsome up close.”
I ran a hand over my face. “Okay, alright—back inside. We’re still packing.”
Rowan stood again. “I can’t let you stay here another night.”
I frowned. “We were going to leave tomorrow.”
“Too risky,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “They almost got to them, Remi. I’m not letting that happen again.”
“Rowan—”
“I’ll sleep in the guest wing if we end up sleeping tonight. I’ll have security posted outside. You don’t even have to see me unless you want to.”
I hesitated.
Laura grabbed my hand and tugged. “Mommy, can we ride in the shiny car?”
“Please?” Larry added, though he pretended he wasn’t as excited. “It looks like something from a spy movie.”
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