Page 27 of Forgiving Her First Love

The handful of times Sophie had played What-if with herself, wondering how Logan would have handled fatherhood, she had taken a dark comfort in believing he would have been terrible at it. He was as selfish as Nolan, but in different ways. He wouldn’t have left the payment of rent up to her, but he would have been single-minded about his own pursuits, not generous with himself or his time.

At least, that’s what she had always believed. Now, she wasn’t as sure. He was capable of holding a baby with tenderness and waiting patiently while she drifted off. He cupped Storm’s neck, set the backs of his fingers against her cheeks, and seemed satisfied that her temperature had come down.

He slipped upstairs and came back with a baby monitor.

“Where’s that Popsicle?” He looked around.

“I put it in the sink.”

“I would have finished it.”

“Do you want Storm’s plague?”

“Good point. You want one?” He went to the freezer for a fresh one.

“I’ll have an ice cream bar.” She’d seen the high-grade dark chocolate and almond-coated treats when she had retrieved the Popsicle.

He brought it to her and unwrapped a green Popsicle for himself.

“Thanks for coming. She had a fever after her shots, but it wasn’t serious, and Em handled it. I was ready to call a medivac.”

“I don’t think you’re there yet. If she gets worse or she’s still feverish in the morning, call across to the clinic in Bella Bella. See what they say.”

“What do you think it is? Flu?”

“She’s a baby. It could be anything. A virus or something she ate. She’s at an age where she’s putting everything she touches into her mouth. When Biyen was one, I caught him chewing a slug. He was mad as hell when I pried his teeth open and got it out.”

“That is the grossest story I have ever heard. And I’ve watched my brother eat bugs on his show.” He pointed his Popsicle at her.

“Toughen up. Parenting is not for the squeamish.”

“Exactly why I don’t want to be one.”

Well, that certainly slammed a door on this conversation.

She dropped her gaze and focused on finishing the ice cream she no longer wanted. She used the damp cloth to wipe her fingers when she was done.

“I’ll—”

“How did you do it?” he asked at the same time, voice pitched quiet enough she had to say, “What?”

“This.” He waved at the house. “Juggling a baby and work. How did you do it with your mom and everything?”

She couldn’t take that near awe in his gaze. She dropped her attention to a bruise on her knuckle she couldn’t remember getting. A pipe wrench in a small engine room, probably.

“I wasn’t working while she was sick. I should have found a job as soon as I realized I was pregnant. Then I would have been eligible for maternity benefits, but I stuck out my second semester at school. Mom didn’t have much left of the settlement from losing my dad, but it was enough for her to live on while she was in treatment. She left me what she could, and I lived off that until Biyen was a year old.”

“I guess Biyen’s father was there to take him when you needed to be with your mom.”

“Not really.” She felt the shakiness of emotion that entered her voice when she revisited that time. “Biyen didn’t take a bottle so I couldn’t leave him with anyone. Sometimes I wonder how he turned out so easygoing when he was drinking pure anxiety as an infant,” she joked faintly. “I’ll always be happy I was able to share him with her, though. We had so many laughs over my new mom adventures.” Her throat was growing raw. So was her chest.

“Janine was very funny. I always remember that about her. Whenever I was sent to the store for milk or whatever, she would make some crack about something, and I’d leave chuckling. I know Mom really misses her.”

“Me, too.” Seven years later, the grief could still rise up so intensely it threatened to swallow her whole. But wallowing in her private agony had been yet another luxury she hadn’t been able to afford. “Having Biyen forced me to get on with things after she was gone. It probably could have gone either way, but he kept me from sinking into depression. He’s so delighted by simple things. I miss him when he’s with Nolan, but he’ll come home in a week and tell me with great pride that he pooped in a hole he dug himself. It puts all of my agonies and aspirations into perspective.”

He snorted. “No kidding. Hashtag mental health hack.”

“Right?” She chuckled, embracing her love of her son to ward off all those other, difficult to bear emotions.

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