Page 87 of From Maybe to Baby

I grab my bag, my keys, my memories of my old life, and flee to the safety of my rental car, away from the choice that’s tearing me apart.

Ryan’s texts blink on my phone screen, a lifeline back to my former world:

*Paris is waiting. Your dream job. Your life.

But as I sit there, engine idling, Jace’s crying cuts through the noise in my head.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, staring at the house like it’s some kind of trap. Paris might feel like running, but stepping back into that chaos feels like drowning.

For now, I just sit there, the car idling, caught between a life I know and one that terrifies me.

12

JONAS

Gloria and Bertdecide to invade with a “casual family dinner.” Casual, my ass. They storm the front like it’s a military operation, armed with casseroles and enough judgment to start a second Inquisition, all under the guise of concern. It’s like deja vu, the same look they wore like armor after Genny’s death, ready for the next disaster.

“The children need stability,” Gloria declares, not even fully in the door yet, pearls and all. Her pearls mean business, and her arms full of food feel like a preemptive condolence. "Especially now, what with the hockey season and... changes."

"Gloria—"

“We saw the article,” Bert chimes in, already making a beeline for my whiskey like it’s his. “The article about Paris, about Alexa’s potential return to the glamorous jet-set life.”

Great. The whole world knows, it seems, except the two kids upstairs probably crafting ‘welcome home’ banners for a person who might not stick around.

"It's not a done deal," I try to interject, but Gloria’s already launched an investigation on her phone.

"Look at her Instagram, would you? Posts about solo travel and child-free resorts. ‘Missing my freedom days’? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘settling down’ now, does it?" She thrusts her phone in my face like it’s Exhibit A.

Bert helps himself a generous pour, probably wishing it were the old days of quiet grief when he just hid at home, missing his daughter. “Jace told us she wants to be a ‘traveler,’ like Alexa. And Lukas…” His voice trails off, but we know where he’s going. Lukas is hooked on Alexa as much as anybody is.

"I’m aware of Instagram, Paris, and all the articles," I snap, sharper than I mean to. My mother-in-law’s eyes narrow, the unspoken accusation hanging between us, a ghost of the past grievances and grief.

"This is different," I add, though it sounds feeble even to my ears.

"Is it?" Gloria plants herself at the kitchen island, the one Alexa organized, where we pretended for a moment as if we were some sort of family. "They’re looking at her like she’s replacement mom."

"She’s not their mother," I say, though the defensive edge in my voice feels like a betrayal.

"But she’s managing to do a damn fine impression of it," Bert observes, swirling his drink. "Or at least she was. She’s woven right into the fabric of your daily lives."

"I think she’s leaving," I admit, my throat tight.

Gloria narrows her eyes, like she’s ready to swing. "She’s all over social media, liking posts about Fashion Week in Paris and solo travel. Like she’s already gone," she adds, her voice a mix of sorrow and acid. But more acid.

I’m about to argue when my phone buzzes. It’s pain-in-the-ass Vince Vincent, worried about how this latest news will playout publicly. Great, now my failed personal life is PR fodder. I’m going to have to talk to my agent about getting the team to stop trotting me out as their resident widower-slash-regular-guy.

Give me a goddamn break.

Gloria’s still talking, something about how Genny would’ve wanted stability, wanted happiness for us. "Don’t tell me what Genny would’ve wanted," I bark, my frustration boiling over.

Shit. I can’t talk to my in-laws that way.

But Jace shows up and crawls onto her grandfather’s lap. "Is Lexa coming to dinner?" she asks.

This simple question is the worst punch to the gut a parent could hear. Damn it all, what have I done, setting the kids up for disappointment? This is on me, and I’m not happy about it. I knew from the start that Alexa had a different life than we did.

Guess I set myself up for disappointment, too.

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