Melinda’s POV
I hadn’t meant to wait by the window that morning.
But I did.
Draped in my robe, a half-empty mug of coffee cooling between my palms, I stood behind the sheer curtains and watched the street like it might give me answers. The twins’ backpacks were already by the door, lunch boxes packed, hair brushed, shoes waiting to be tied.
Still, I hadn’t tied them. I hadn’t moved.
Because James was late.
The thought made my throat tighten, and I hated how quickly old habits came clawing back—waiting on a man, hoping for consistency, bracing for disappointment. But this wasn’t Andrew.
And that was the problem.
James wasn’t anyone I knew how to expect.
I heard the familiar thud of small feet against hardwood and turned just in time to catch Elena dragging Elijah by the hand.
“Mom
