Page 95 of Time for Change

Probably forever.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jack

I wish I could say I slept, but that’d be a lie. I didn’t sleep at all. Not a single wink. I couldn’t get my brain to calm down enough to relax, nor could I get the image of Stevie’s tears out of my head. Add in the fact there’s this painful dull ache in my chest that seems to be here to stay, and I’m living in some sort of hell.

Of course, this is one of the mornings Christian decides to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. My eyes are closed, sleep just within reach, when he comes bursting through my bedroom door.

“Daddy! Can we have pancakes?”

I want to groan, kick him out of my room in a desperate attempt to steal just a few hours of sleep, but I know I can’t. I won’t. It’s not his fault I was up all night. Usually, six in the morning is the perfect time to get up and start your day. Today, however, is not one of those mornings.

“Hey, buddy,” I mumble, opening up my comforter and letting him crawl into bed with me. “We can have some pancakes in just a little bit.”

He gets right in my face, completely oblivious to the concept of personal space. “Is Stevie here?”

My heart seizes in my chest.

“No, Stevie’s not here. She went home.”

“Can she come back and play with me?” he asks eagerly.

“Not today, buddy. Stevie has things to do at her own place.” I don’t have the heart to tell him she probably won’t be back here for a while, if ever.

“Next weekend?” There’s so much hope and happiness in his eyes, I can’t dash it away, so I do the only thing parents can do in these types of situations. I deflect.

“Maybe.”

“Yay!” he hollers, shifting and moving like he has ants in his pants.

I realize quickly that lying here with him and resting isn’t going to work. He’s completely awake, like I usually am, and in no mood to go back to sleep. “How about we go see if we have the makings of pancakes?”

“Yes!” he hollers, sitting up and throwing his arms in the air victoriously.

“You go on down to the kitchen—quietly,so we don’t wake your sister. I’ll brush my teeth and change my clothes and be down.”

“’Kay!” he bellows, jumping up and scurrying out of my bedroom.

Doing my best zombie impersonation, I slowly walk into my bathroom to pee and wash my face. Spotting myself in the mirror for the first time has me groaning. I look like absolute hell.

“I guess I look the way I feel,” I mutter to myself.

After brushing my teeth, I slip into my closet to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, all while wondering what I’m going to do about Gianna. I’m torn on what to do about whatever it was that happened last night. Clearly my daughter said something to upset Stevie, but Stevie being the kind, caring person she is, wouldn’t tell me what it was. That alone is pretty damning.

Now I need to decide how to approach my daughter. I have to ask for her side of what happened. I also realize I have to respect her feelings, just like Stevie advised. As much as I wantto demand they get along and my daughter like the woman I’ve fallen in love with, I can’t.

Maybe a little time will help Gianna come to terms with me dating.

I make my way downstairs and find Christian in the living room. He’s watching cartoons and snuggled under the blanket Stevie used last night. The thought of her on my couch, curled on her side and burrowed beneath the soft material makes my heart squeeze in my chest as I long to have her here.

With us.

“I’ll get started on the pancakes, buddy,” I tell him, slowly making my way to the kitchen. First thing’s first, though. I need coffee, and a lot of it if I’m going to make it through the day without sleep.

While I put the ground coffee beans into a fresh filter and dump water into the reservoir, I think back over my divorce to Mya. I was sad our relationship was ending, especially because of the changes it meant for my kids. Gianna was five, and we had an infant, but the problems in our marriage didn’t just start at that time. They were always there, a hairline fracture in the bones of our relationship that would progressively get worse over the five years we were married. I can look back now and see the problems we had. We weren’t meant to be together, despite giving it a try.

Stevie, on the other hand, is different. There’s a deeper connection than I’ve ever experienced and to know it’s ending rather abruptly is a shock to the system. I’m not sad our relationship has ended. I’m gutted, bleeding a slow, painful death all over my floor, and the fact we didn’t even really get to explore what could have been makes it that much harder to swallow.

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