Page 89 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Leigh: Shit.

Leigh: Do NOT go and buy a pregnancy test. I’ll do it for you. God knows you don’t want that shared on social media.

It’s at this point that I realize it’s not my career that I’m even thinking about right now. It’s Ethan. Being pregnant at the nine-week mark in a relationship must surely be categorized as jumping too fast.

Oh, god.

I feel sick.

Everything was going so well for us. Everything. And now it’s going to be all fucked up.

He’s a guy who doesn’t want to jump too fucking fast anymore and I’m a girl who won’t ever abort another baby.

My stomach cramps, I feel dizzy, and I quickly stand and vomit into the sink.

This cannot be happening.

30

Ethan

“Ethan.”

I turn at my father’s voice on my way to the terrace where Luna’s waiting, not so patiently, for me to take more photos of her. “Yeah?”

“Can you give me a minute?” He gestures toward Gage’s library.

I grimace. Not because I don’t want to give him the time, but because my niece is waiting and I’m aware that Gage doesn’t want her to stay up too late tonight, so every second I delay pushes her bedtime.

At the face I pull, Dad says, “Please, son. This is important.”

It’s his tone that causes me to agree because I hear warmth and vulnerability I’ve never heard from him. “Okay.”

When we’re alone, he indicates for me to sit with him, his expression earnest, leaving me wondering what we’re about to discuss.

“Ethan,” he starts, “I love you, son.” I wait for the but that always follows those words, however it never comes. Instead, Dad continues. “And this is a conversation that should have happened a very long time ago. That, I am sorry for. You’ll never know just how sorry.” He swallows hard and I’m stunned. My father is feeling emotional, which is something I have never seen.

His shoulders hunch a little, the complete opposite to his usual straight back, and he glances down at his hands briefly before meeting my gaze again. His words are measured when he speaks. “Being a father is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in life, and my mistakes are a testament to that. I failed often and, at times, I failed terribly. I also had my share of failures when it came to my marriage. The thing I didn’t understand for a very long time was that being a husband and being a father aren’t always separate things. You’re aware of how my marriage to your mother came about, so I won’t go over that, but I entered our relationship thinking that being a father had nothing to do with being a husband. I was very wrong.

Cheating on your mother not only hurt her, it hurt you boys. The difference was that she knew why she was hurting, but you did not. You had a mother hurting deeply during your formative years, unable to bond with you because of that hurt. And you had a father who couldn’t express his emotions or connect on an emotional level. I didn’t give you what you needed as a child, Ethan, which I have deep regret over. I didn’t understand just how profoundly my actions would affect my entire family.”

He stops talking when his voice wavers and I sit in shock while I wait for him to continue. It’s jarring to experience Dad’s strict and emotionally guarded demeanor give way to vulnerability. It’s also unexpected and disorienting.

“I made your teenage and early adult years harder than they needed to be, son. I watched you get lost in high school, drinking and taking drugs. I watched you make friends with boys who concerned me and girls who distracted you. Your school attendance dropped. Your grades dropped. And you were never happy from what I could work out. I didn’t understand why, because your brothers didn’t struggle in the same ways, and I thought that because you were all raised under the same roof, you should all have the same experience. I was harder on you than the others because I was scared. I didn’t know how to help you, and I just kept pushing, hoping you would do what I told you to and that together we could make everything right.

Son, I’m sorry it’s taken me until now to grasp that I was wrong. I’m sorry that when I found you that day, in your condo, high and paranoid after taking those drugs, clearly hurting and needing help, that I didn’t do everything in my power to help you. That I didn’t stop trying to fix you by force and that I didn’t see what you really needed from me. I won’t ever treat you that way again. I want you to know that, but more than anything, Ethan, I want you to know I love you and I’m proud of you. What you’ve achieved in your life is beyond anything I could have ever hoped for, and I know you may find that hard to believe from me, but it’s the truth. You were right when you said it’s wrong of a parent to expect their child’s happiness and life to look a certain way. I had it mixed up and I tried to force my ideas onto you, and I won’t do that again.”

I’m frozen, staring at this man I don’t recognize, listening to him say words to me I don’t think he’s uttered to anyone in his lifetime. Dad being so raw and open in this way has shattered the familiar landscape of our relationship, and where I’ve always had go-to defenses at the ready for him, I now have nothing.

I knew something was shifting between us. He’s spent more time with me over the past month than he’s spent with me in years. He’s initiated conversations, albeit stilted ones at time, but still, he’s made an effort to talk, to find out what I’ve been doing with my time, and to find out about my relationship with Madeline. But this? I never saw this coming.

Blowing out a long breath, I say, “This is a lot to process, Dad.”

He nods. “Yes. And I imagine that will take you a while. I don’t expect anything tonight, Ethan. In fact, if it takes you the rest of your life to process this, I understand. I wanted you to know my feelings. And I want you to know I will always be here, ready with whatever you need, son. I also want to say that I was very wrong to judge Madeline that first night I met her at Callan’s wedding. She’s an amazing young woman and I have great respect for her. Mostly, though, I like seeing how happy she’s making you.”

Dad has always been the epitome of stoicism. He was an impenetrable figure to me. And I have always been the opposite. This is why we always clashed. Now, seeing him admit mistakes and flaws, experiencing regret, and talking about his emotions, is stirring hope that I gave up on long ago. I also feel empathy for him, something I’ve always easily felt for anyone but my father. And for some reason, feeling this for him helps ease some long-carried tension from my body, which is a mindfuck all on its own.

“Growing up with you as a father was hard, Dad. That’s no secret for any of us. But I always desperately wanted your approval.” Fuck, talking about this shit with him is way harder than fighting about it. I grip the back of my neck and rub my hand over it. “I always felt like the son you and Mom never wanted. She ignored me. You punished me for not measuring up. And then you presented all us boys to the world as your pride and joy. It was confusing and painful, and every day chipped away another tiny piece of me.” I exhale a breath. “I never knew how or where I fitted. That’s why I went in search of things to make me feel better. I know, sure as fuck, it’s why I kept ending up in dysfunctional relationships with women who were wrong for me but who looked all kinds of right to begin with. And the app I made with Bradford? Sure, I enjoyed building it, but running an actual company? That was never going to be for me.

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