Page 121 of The Perfect Mistake

Isabel

Willa and Sam are my saviors. Focusing on their infectious energy gives me no time at all to think about my own life, about their father, or their aunt. After school, Willa has tennis practice, Sam plays soccer. Afterward, we collapse on the thick plush carpet in the living room. Neither of them wants to do homework, so I decide we’ll get it done lying down today instead. Picnic-style.

They both find this inordinately funny. Although the position isn’t great for Willa’s handwriting, we make it through their homework quickly enough. Sam’s is always a blast. He’s in kindergarten, so his tasks are things like identifying items at home in each primary color or counting the number of steps between the rooms.

Alec is out all night.

I knew he would be attending a gala tonight. Saw it on the schedule that’s mounted on the fridge, the one Katja, the kids, and I use as a bible to orient our lives around. It means we haven’t spoken, not properly, not since Connie found out at the party.

The talk with her scared me. It scared me because we’ve never had that kind of conflict before, not between the two of us, and this isn’t something that’s easily smoothed over. Not something that we can shrug our shoulders at and move on from in a heartbeat. She was clearly freaked out by what she’d seen. I never thought… you don’t feel taken advantage of? I don’t want you to be in a position where you’re afraid of saying no.

That analysis felt as far from Alec’s and my dynamic as one could get.

I’d told her we weren’t serious. Tried to downplay it all, even if the truth had hovered on my lips. I think I’m in love with him, but I’m fairly sure that he doesn’t feel the same way.

He’s jealous. He’s protective. He’s kind and interested and attracted, yes, but that doesn’t mean love. And he’s made it clear every step of the way that he can’t see himself having more kids.

I think what he really means is marriage. A real relationship, one where there’s a risk of being hurt just as much as there’s potential for healing.

I read to Sam at bedtime. He falls asleep before I’m even on the third page, exhausted as he always is on the days he has soccer. He looks sweet, long lashes over flushed cheeks, and his chest rising with quick breaths. I kiss his forehead and pull the door closed behind me.

Willa is already reading when I walk into her bedroom.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “Want me to read?”

It’s usually fifty-fifty whether she’ll let me help her fall asleep on the evenings her dad is gone. Lately, though, the answer has more often been yes than no.

She puts her book aside and nods.

I sit down on the chair near her bed. She turns over, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Page six.”

“Okay, I’ll continue from there.”

I read in a hushed voice, and she looks at the text with me, her eyes moving. She’s learning so quickly. It’s amazing how kids absorb the information at every turn, with their minds like sponges.

I’m on the last page when she speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?”

“For being rude. When you first got here.”

I smile at her. “Oh honey, that’s okay. I imagine it was hard having nannies come in and out of your life. But I appreciate your apology.”

She nods. Sighs a little. “I don’t like nannies. But I like you.”

“Thank you.” I settle back on the chair and fight the urge to reach out, to stroke her hair. It’s so rare that she’s this sweet and open with me, and it feels like a gift. “Why don’t you like nannies?”

She looks at the edge of her comforter, fingers playing with the fabric. “If we didn’t have a nanny, Dad would be home with us.” she says. “He wouldn’t be able to work.”

Ah. My heart breaks a little, hearing the conviction in her voice. I shift closer. “Honey, your dad wants to be with you. Both you and Sam. He’d be here all the time if he could. He just has a lot of other people depending on him, and he likes helping them, too.”

“Mm-hmm. I know.”

“Have you ever told him this?”

She shakes her head.

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