Page 76 of The Man I Love

The old woman smiledand, without letting go of Samantha’s hand she peeked up at Tristan. “Babies are like pancakes,” she said. “They’re messy at times, but they sure do bring joy to the table.”

Samantha grinned because that was the most authentic advice she’d ever received.

“I like that analogy,” Tristan stated.

The old woman continued. “There will be times in parenthood when you make mistakes. When you look back and wish you’d handled things differently. But give yourself grace. Growing up is never easy, and you must realizeyouboth are still growing up too.” She grinned. “We’re meant to evolve, to change our minds, to make mistakes, and to learn. When in doubt, when you’re getting so much advice you don’t know whereupis, remember to trust your instincts. They’ve been guiding parents since the first caveman sang his baby his first lullaby.”

The old woman turned away then, and the next guest was in front of them, but Samantha was barely listening. AuntGretchen’s words were replaying in her head over and over.“We’re meant to evolve, to change our minds, to make mistakes, and to learn…”Her eyes met Tristan’s profile. Was she giving him enough grace? Or had she locked him in a cage with his mistakes with no way to escape?

Within an hour, the remaining guests were outside and had disbursed into the backyard. Sam excused herself to the kitchen, needing to clear her head. She found herself at the sink guzzling down a full glass of water before refilling it again. In truth, she wasn’t sure what instincts were anymore because her instincts had wanted to take Tristan into the other room and tell him to forget everything she’d ever said. But could she do that? Can you ever fully take words back? They were like posts on social media. You could erase them, but they’d already been seen. They’d possibly already been screen-grabbed, recorded, and locked away on someone’s hard drive. She stopped at the kitchen window and looked out to the backyard at all their guests. There were close to a hundred people. All family, friends, or people who’d watched them grow up.

Flowers and balloons were everywhere, covering the tables, the bushes, and suspended from the trees. Their parents had really gone all out, and despite the sadness she felt in her heart, she realized how much their baby was loved. She vowed to collect some of the items from the tables and put them in her baby book after the party. Someday, she would want them. Someday, she would look back on this day and find peace.

Then, out of her peripheral vision, she noticed a small boy running with a peach-colored balloon. She set the glass of water on the counter and moved closer to the window. He looked familiar. She was sure she’d seen him before. His hair wasa messy white-blonde mass, seeming almost feral. His movements were so wild that at any moment, she was sure he was going to crash into someone’s legs and fall over. The boy continued torun in circles, his energy seeming to grow by the second, until suddenly he shifted direction. As though someone had called him. A man scooped him up from behind, and the boy squirmed in his arms and kicked his feet. The man blew on his belly, and Samantha nearly choked, because it was Mr. Montgomery who held him.

Panic settled into her chest, and she turned to go find Tristan—but it was too late. She watched in slow motion as Tristan walked out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He scanned over the space, taking in all the decorations for the first time. The balloons that were too many to count, forming an arch of browns, tans, and peaches. The chocolate fountain that had gathered a crowd of small children, and the Teddy bear that was as large as he was. Then his eyes locked onto his father, and her heart raced. She watched as he walked across the lawn, his jaw tight when he pulled his father in for a hug. Samantha covered her mouth, unsure ofwhat she’d just witnessed. They hugged for at least ten seconds. Tristan’s little brother stuck between them like honey between two slices of bread before they finally broke apart.

She then watched as the two men began to talk, carrying on a conversation that seemed civil and kind. She thought they spoke about Liam because they kept looking down at him and smiling. His illness had been a tragedy, yet somehow, it appeared to have healed wounds Samantha had never thought would mend. She was transfixed, unable to pull her eyes away from the window.

Then Tristan took his baby brother from his father, put him on the ground, and grabbed his hand. He guided him toward the chocolate fountain, and Samantha smothered an emotional laugh with her fingers.

Someone moved in the background, and she whipped around, finding Tristan’s mother standing in the doorway. Hershoulders were square, her blond hair twisted in a perfect French knot.

Her eyes were on the window, her expression unreadable, and Sam knew Mrs. Montgomery had seen the same moment she had.

“Did you know about this?” Sam asked her, unable to stop herself.

Mrs. Montgomery nodded and stepped closer. “Yes,” she said softly, stopping beside Samantha. Her hip leaned against the counter as her gaze shifted toward the window. “Tristan asked me to invite them.”

“Is it hard for you?” Sam asked her.

“Yes, and no,” she answered. But then she faced Samantha again. “I guess it will always be hard for me. He broke our agreement. He betrayed me by stepping out on our marriage, but I was wrong to ever get Tristan involved.”

Samantha pulled in a breath, shocked by Mrs. Montgomery’s realization. Samantha remembered all the phone calls Tristan had made trying to persuade his father to come to Renee’s wedding without success. In part, the phone calls were because his own mother had asked him to do it.

“I’ve blamed myself for their broken relationship for years, Samantha. In truth, Tommy was never a perfect husband, but he always loved his kids. And as much as Tristan denies it, he loves his father too.”

Samantha knew it was true. That was why he had been hurt so much, why he could never seem to talk about his father without getting upset.

“I can’t make him choose between us,” she said looking into Samantha’s eyes. “He deserves to have us both.”

Samantha swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from making the comparison between Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery’s failed relationshipand her own.

“It’s always the people we love the most who can rip our hearts apart, " she added. “It’s the people we love most whowehurt, and who get to see all of our broken pieces in the process.”

A lump formed in Samantha’s throat, and she turned toward the window again. It was true. The people we loved most were the ones who witnessed our mistakes, and who sometimes were hurt because of them.

Mrs. Montgomery placed a hand on Samantha’s back and leaned in close. “Don’t give up on him, Samantha. You may not see it now, but he loves you more than he loves himself.”

Samantha shook her head and blinked away tears because this was the first time Mrs. Montgomery had acknowledged their breakup. She was like a second mother to Samantha and talking with her about her son was always so confusing.

“No matter what happens,” Mrs. Montgomery whispered, “no matter how things end up between the two of you, be good to each other.”

“Of course”—Samantha choked—“I would nev?—”

Mrs. Montgomery placed one finger on Samantha’s lips. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you wouldn’t intend to, but sometimes pain makes us blind. Things are never one-sided, Sam. Remember that.”

Sam shook her head, wanting to ask what she’d meant by that.

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