“Exactly. And I have the entire weekend to curl up with him. Some serious Mommy time.”
“You’ll be crawling out of your skin by the time Monday comes around.”
He’s absolutely right. “See? Perfect balance.”
“And everything’s okay here? You don’t need any money? Not behind on bills? Got enough groceries? Bub’s juice?” Dad’s practically reaching for his wallet.
“No. I don’t need your money, Dad. We’ve got everything we need.” I bump my shoulder into him, and he grunts.
“You know if you find yourself struggling with anything, there’s always room for you two at home.” His voice holds that wistful tone again. I hate that he’s in that house all alone, but staying there makes me feel like a kid. Like a kid with a kid. And it’s not a good look on me.
Besides, Paxton needs the stability of our established routine. It’s been in place since his birth, and it works. Only one more year until preschool. Then, we can make other changes.
“What would Jackie do without us?” I gasp in mock horror. “You can’t leave him out.”
“He can have your sister’s old room.”
We laugh together, quietly. And I hum. “I’d better go check on him. It’s been an hour.”
Dad pats my hand. “Let me do it. He needs some Pop Pop time.”
Pulling my knees up to my chest as he rocks himself up, I nod. “Thanks, Dad. He loves his Pop Pop.”
That grin redoubles. He’s more proud to have his grandson love him than anything else. It makes my heart feel huge and full.
Dad pauses after a stretch. “Is all this helping you figure out what you want, pumpkin?”
I search his face for what exactly he means, but I know my answer will be laced with much more than what he’s asking me.
“Yeah, it is.”
And I can say that honestly. I may not know exactly what it all means for me long-term, but I want to keep doing whatever it is I’m doing—at work, with Henry, Jake, and Eli, having my shared space with Jackie, and my special time with my son.
Although, my past experience says it won’t last.
But seeing Henry with Paxton made my heart soar. If I let my fears go, hope would take residence in my chest and build itself a little nest.
Can I do that to myself again?
ELI
Sunday football at Patrick’s house is as normal as we can manage, which is to say, I think we fake our way through it. At least, close enough that Patrick doesn’t pepper us with suspicious questions. He certainly would.
If he knew.
And what the hell do you say to a guy you’ve been friends with since high school—who captained your football team when you were an underweight freshman, who invited you over every Sunday for the last twenty years—that his three best friends are sleeping with his daughter?
He might just run us over with his truck.
In the back of our car, Henry and Jake are in their own stupors, so I pull up the chain of unanswered texts to Paige and start another.
Saw a picture of you at Patrick’s house. Well, I saw a lot of pictures I admittedly never looked at before, but this one was of you as a kid.
Cute little pigtails. Mud covering you. And a giant frog caught in your grip.
I don’t know where I’m going with this exactly. It’s too soon to think about what having a little girl like Paige would be like. With Paige. Would she be wild? Strong and demanding like her mother? Soft and protected? Would she have the same glint in her eyes that the tiny version of Paige had in that picture?
Pulling in a deep breath, I let it go slowly.