Page 149 of The Golden Hour

Honey’s mouth drops open, and Mason snickers into the tree at the shocked look on her face.

“I was a potty-mouth baby?”

“A very cute potty-mouth baby,” Melissa laughs.

“Rob, what are you laughing at?” Marlene says, raising an eyebrow at her laughing husband. “Mason’s first word was shit.”

Mason blinks. “Uh, I was not aware of that either.”

That only makes Rob laugh harder, which makes Phil laugh harder as Mason stands there, holding the heavy and tall tree steady.

Honey shakes her head, glancing down at Daisy, who is looking up at her mommy with wide, serious eyes.

“Remember to do as we say, not as we do, baby girl, okay?”

Daisy makes a hissing noise that Mason construes as agreement, and Honey smiles at him like she is thinking the same thing.

As Phil finally tightens the screws to hold the tree in place, Mason can’t help smiling as he thinks about the day they had at the tree farm.

The Hayes house has tall ceilings, so Honey always wanted to get the biggest, fattest tree they could find. And Phil would do anything to make his girl smile, so he always lets her choose.

Today felt special.

Daisy’s big eyes were wide as they walked through the rows and rows of firs to find the one. Mason would give Honey breaks from carrying her, holding Daisy close enough to the trees for her to reach out and touch the needles with her tiny fingers.

“Which one do you want, little flower?” Honey had asked her, pointing at the biggest, fattest tree on the lot. “This one?”

And when Daisy giggled brightly and kicked her feet, Honey laughed loudly.

“Sold!”

Then she looked at Mason, and the bright smile on her face didn’t fade. No, it softened into something so beautifully familiar that Mason’s chest went tight.

Honey was starting to look at him like she used to before he fucked everything up.

He was starting to believe that maybe he had earned some of those soft looks from her. Maybe the change, the complete overhaul, the collapse of the life they had built, had not been for nothing.

It’s strange to think about it, like some weird chicken-or-the-egg question.

Was their marriage actually better now, or did it only feel better because he had set the bar so low he’d buried it six feet under? Did he actually deserve Honey? Did he ever deserve her?

But it’s not a question of deserving or not.

Because if you asked him, no, he would never deserve Honey in his eyes. Not if he lived a million lifetimes and spent every single one of them trying. And that’s just centering himself again.

The real question is—what does Honey want?

She wants him to be a father to Daisy—gladly.

She wants him to prioritize his family over work—done.

She wants to go back to work next month—he will pack her lunches, drive her to work if she wants, and support her one thousand percent.

She wants to sell their house because she cannot walk back into a place that feels more like a prison than a home—he already has it on the market, and they’ve had several inquiries.

She wants a new home—he’s already in touch with an architect, and they’ll meet with them next week.

And he thinks, he hopes with everything in him, that maybe one day, Honey will want him as a husband once more.