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I write for:
- Avengers/MCU
- Criminal Minds
- Harry Potter
- Star Wars
- The Originals
- The 100
- Twilight
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*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
It's been three years since you and Spencer divorced.
And, even after three years, you still love him.
That's why every time he comes to get Diana for his weekend, you avoid seeing him at the door. Looking at him hurts too much. Hell, hearing his name hurts too much.
Diana is just getting old enough to ask why you and Daddy don't talk. You usually tell her that it's because you and Daddy live different lives. She doesn't understand it yet, but she accepts it.
"Mommy," Diana whines. You squat down and smooth out her hair.
"Yes, baby?"
"When Daddy comes to get me, can he come inside and see Sprinkles?" she pleads. Your heart stalls. You bite your lip, praying that you find the courage to say no to those adorable puppy dog eyes.
No such luck.
"Sure, honey." She squeals and runs to her room to grab the new kitten you had recently brought home from the shelter. She'd finally worn you down after almost half a year of begging and, after being an angel of a daughter, you agreed.
A knock sounds at the door, and your breath catches in your throat. Why you stop in front of the hallway mirror is beyond you, but you do, trying in vain to fix your bed head. Figuring nothing will help you now, you open the door quicker than needed.
Spencer looks down at you in surprise, his hand still raised to knock once again.
"(Y/N)," he breathes. You clear your throat.
"Spencer," you smile softly, stepping aside. "Would you like to come in? Diana wants to show you something." He finally lowers his hand, and clears his throat.
"Um, yes. Sure. Thank you." He steps into the house, taking off his jacket, holding it awkwardly.
"There's a coat rack there," you say, pointing to his left. "Coffee?"
"Please. Two spoonfuls of sugar and—"
"—a splash of vanilla cream," you finish quietly. The silence is deafening as you get to work preparing his coffee.
"You remember," he says quietly. You turn around, handing him the mug as he perches on the barstool.
"I never forgot," you reply, setting on making your own.
"Three spoonfuls and two creamers," Spencer says. You freeze. "That's yours. I remember, too."
"You have an eidetic memory. You remember everything."
"I don't need an eidetic memory to remember it." You close your eyes, focusing on breathing.
"I'm going to go see if Diana is ready," you say, moving toward her room.
