Page 85 of Forgotten Romance

She gives me that same loving, slightly guilty look she’s worn around me since the divorce. “It still hurts every day that you didn’t work out.”

We’re going to though. I don’t tell her that because I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, not even mine, but I can feel the certainty in my bones. I’m not going to give up. If we have to go back to him traveling all the time, at least I’ll do that knowing what it was like in the same position, but without being able to call him mine. That should help me get through. Hopefully.

I play with my fingers as I answer her. “Even if I can’t have him, I want to go on loving him forever. No matter what.”

She hiccups a sob before pulling herself together. “And you’ll always be our son. No matter what.”

“Thank you.” Davey’s parents welcoming me so easily was one of my favorite things about marrying him. Mom and Dad had me later in life, and while we all loved each other, we were never the closest of families. It’s one of the reasons I suggested Davey keep living with us; married or not, I want the kids to grow up knowing that we’re always there for them.

“Well, then,” I say, wanting to steer this conversation away from tears since I’m all dried out of those. “Where do we start?”

Mary helps me gather ingredients and props up the handwritten instructions. “It was what I could remember, so we might need to play with measurements until we get it right.”

“I’m game for that. There’s a whole four hours until I have to get back for him to pick me up.”

“Won’t he notice when you aren’t paid any extra?”

I pull out a pan and set it on the stove. “That won’t be until after Christmas, and I will have told him before then. I don’t keep secrets from Davey.”

“You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Being such a good person. You could at least have a tiny bit of asshole in you so I could be like there, that’s why my son walked away from the best man he’s ever known, but no. You keep being perfect.”

“But … I’m not.” I turn and look at her, genuinely upset she’s so hard on him. “You do know it was me who suggested the divorce, right?”

“Because he wouldn’t quit his job.”

And as she says those words, it sinks in that those weren’t our only issues. If I’m considering building our life back to what it was, his work and all, that proves it wasn’t really about that. “That’s the reason I used, but honestly, I think it was easier to blame him than look at myself.”

“What do you mean?”

It’s hard to talk about, but I owe it to him. “There was a lot going on back then. Van was a baby, and he was a lot to deal with. Kiera wasn’t exactly easy. And all I saw was Davey getting to have two whole weeks to himself. Getting to have his own life. Having a successful career and friends, and I … everything felt so dark. I didn’t talk to him about any of it, and when I think about it now, that was unfair to him. He did everything when he was home, including work, and he missed so much when he was gone. He was my only anchor when everything got hard, and he wasn’t there when I needed him.”

“I know, honey, but?—”

I shake my head quickly. “I shouldn’t need him. That’s my point. You don’t stay with someone because you need them; you stay with them because you want them. Because they make your life better. We weren’t making each other’s lives better then, and it was my fault. I’d get sulky when he talked about work, so he stopped. I had nothing of my own. Nothing but him and the kids. And that’s not healthy.”

Her mouth tightens. “That’s not all on you.”

“Maybe not, but I was so focused on resenting him that I forgot to be grateful for everything I did have because of him. He missed huge parts of the kids growing up so I got to experience it. He worked so hard so I didn’t have to work at all. He was always the one giving, and I was always the one taking.” I nod to the recipe. “I’m not doing that anymore. Now, I’m focusing on my life. On what makes me happy and a whole person, and maybe if I do that, I’ll be able to appreciate the things that make Davey a whole person too.”

“Mack …” She pulls me into a Mom-swamping hug, squeezing me as hard as her tiny arms can handle. The hug lasts longer than it should, but I know she’s trying not to cry, so I don’t mention anything. When she pulls away, some of the usual guilt is gone from her stare. “I really do love my son. I know I’m hard on him sometimes, but?—”

“Sounds like we all are.”

“Ah. Shit.”

“Can’t change that now though. All we can do is figure out this recipe while I get his LEGO rebuilt and we cross fingers like hell that it snows on Christmas. He leaves again soon, and I want to make sure he enjoys every last day home with us before he goes again.”

She opens her mouth to say something when the front door opening makes us freeze.

“Mom? You home?”

Davey.

I snatch the recipe from the counter and do a panicked spin for a hiding space before ducking into the pantry. It’s one of those open ones with no door, but unless he comes right around the corner and into the kitchen, he won’t see me.

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