Page 21 of With You

Despite the fury racing through my veins, there is a bruised, tender part of my heart that throbs and aches whenever I think of our past and everything Deacon and I had endured, separately and together, and right now every ounce of pain it feels is for him.

“And I want what she has with Vic’s kids,” he confesses. “Otherwise, it’s just one more thing I miss out on. Something Reese misses out on.”

Even though the distance between us is minimal, I climb up onto the couch and straddle him, cradling his face in my hands.

“Whatever you want, we’ll do,” I tell him, despite every molecule in my body opposing contact with her. I could acknowledge that this is a decision Deacon needs to make, with no input from me. I can’t give him my opinion or sway him. In good times and bad, when it’s hard and easy, this is the exact moment marriages are made of.

“When she calls you next,” he says, tears spilling from his eyes and landing on my hands, “tell her if she has any hope of meeting Reese, she needs to talk to me first.”

DEACON

Anticipating the alarm on my cell to go off soon, I reach for the phone and quickly switch it off. After waking up for a third time, I gave up on trying to sleep and have been lying here, staring at the ceiling ever since.

Just like I asked, Julian waited for the next time my mother reached out, and passed on my message. The only issue was I didn’t think she would call the very next day, and I didn’t expect to have her flying to Seattle the week after that.

We agreed to meet here, with my father and Julian. Victoria was flying in with Mom and she would pick Reese up from Wade and Christie’s. It isn’t ideal, and I know Julian is torn between being there for both of us, but I refuse to risk my mother accidentally meeting Reese. It’s a hard limit, and I love and know him well enough that whether he’s with me or with Reese, our family is his priority.

It feels like an over-the-top secret mission, but protecting our peace is important, and in case this blows up in my face, I need to make sure this meeting does as little damage as possible.

My anxiety is borderline unmanageable, the lack of sleep proof of that. I can’t decide what I want. Do I just really want to lay eyes on the only woman to ever break my heart?

The sound of Julian’s phone vibrating interrupts my thoughts and has my anxiety increasing tenfold. It’s six o’clock on a Friday morning.

Who the hell would be calling now?

When the vibration continues and Julian doesn’t flinch, I stretch my body over his and grab it. I catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar number before it stops.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Juli?—”

Vibration from my phone cuts me off, and now my mind is whirling at who it could be. I launch myself off of Julian and dive for my cell. Noticing the same number, I quickly swipe at my screen and answer.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” A woman’s voice comes through the phone. “Is this Deacon Sutton?”

“Speaking.”

I feel Julian sitting up behind me, his bare skin grazing mine.

“Hello,” she repeats, her tone a little less formal. “I’m so sorry to call this early, my name is Gwen from Family Services.”

At her introduction, I put the phone on speaker and turn to face Julian, our eyes locked, my heart racing.

“We have you and your husband listed as foster parents,” she says, and Julian’s head bobs up and down before the rest of the sentence even leaves her mouth. “Our database says your status is available,” she continues. “And there is a young boy; he’s four and a half. His parents passed away in a car accident and he’s currently recovering from minor injuries at Seattle Presbyterian,” she explains. “He has a grandmother in a nursing home and no other living relatives.”

I quickly catch the tear that threatens to fall down Julian’s cheek, knowing exactly what he’s thinking, knowing exactly what this reminds him of.

“He’ll be staying in the hospital over the weekend,” she says. “But we wanted to touch base and see if you and your husband have the capabilities to take him in.”

My mind drifts back to everything we’ve been through up until this point, the decision to make ourselves available to be parents in whatever way that looked like. But all of that was before Reese, all of that was before a little, beautiful baby girl buried herself into our hearts and lives and became ouronlypriority.

“We have a daughter now,” I inform her. “A three-month-old.”

“Okay,” she drawls. “There isn’t really much tim?—”

“We’re not saying no,” I reassure her, and Julian, whose face has fallen. “We just need a minute to see what that would look like for us now.”

I talk to both of them, because while I know my husband has a bleeding heart, we have to take the time and make this decision based on facts and not on emotions.

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