Page 177 of One Big Little Secret

It always comes down to Arlo when my own selfish feelings aren’t in the driver’s seat.

He deserves better, but he also shouldn’t get too used to nice things when it could all come crashing out under us.

But if Patton walks out on me, he won’t abandon his son. Whether I like it or not, the Rory wealth is part of Arlo’s life now,and it could easily sideswipe his future. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Ugh, why is this so hard?

I drop my head in my hands, jamming my fingers into my eyes until I see stars.

I’m doing what I do best.

Worrying.

The great family dinner, our big relationship reveal, it was all just a few days ago. How does it already feel like half a lifetime ago?

His whole family knows we’re a thing and I haven’t seen him since he took us home.

My fault. Partly.

But after the way he left me outside, I decided we needed some time apart, and he didn’t argue. Probably because he was frustrated I turned him down again.

Probably because I was a little thrilled he said he loves Arlo—and a lot let down that he wouldn’t say the word to me.

Also, we need boundaries.

Space. Borders. Walls.

Time in our own homes where we aren’t changing too much, too soon, and I don’t have to freak out about how it’s influencing my son. It’s just crazy unsatisfying.

I roll over angrily, jerking my phone from its charging cord.

He still hasn’t texted.

Fine, whatever.

I wasn’t expecting him to and he has no obligation. But every morning since that night, I’ve wanted to wake up to a message.

In a single frenzied month with barely any time alone and so much mind-blowing sex, Patton Rory has changed me into the unthinkable.

Spoiled.

That’s what I am.

He’s submerged me in kindness and stability I don’t know what to do with. I’m inexperienced, acting like a lovestruck teen when I should be handling an adult relationship.

One where we don’t talk for days at a time because we’re busy.

And I know better than anyone how busy Patton is.

His job is his life and right now, even on a Sunday, he’s probably working. Or getting coffee from that fancy place down the road.

Never mind the fact that he sometimes getsmesome coffee.

Groaning, I toss the phone aside and try to muster up the energy to climb out of bed.

It’s better that Arlo spends some time in his old home and old life. Patton’s fairy-tale palace is a dream, not a reality for us.

Don’t get me wrong. I want Arlo to have the world, but that’s not the world—that’s a parallel universe no five-year-old should have to digest.

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