Page 33 of The One I Want
I ignore the rush of warmth that goes through my body at seeing Betsy with my youngest. But I can’t ignore the fact that for the first time in months, things just feel right. My kids don’t look stressed. They don’t look tired or confused or worried. They look relaxed. Comfortable.
Loved.
That must be the effect Betsy Sullivan has on my kids.
I gently tap Emerson to wake her up, and to my complete shock, when she slowly wakes up, she holds her arms out for me to carry her. I push down the wave of emotion as I pick her up. She hasn’t had me carry her since she was Magnolia’s age. My girl was independent out of the womb. Once she realized that she could walk to bed on her own, my days of daddy duty were done. Sometimes I forget that she’s still a little girl, one who at first grew up fast because she wanted to. And now I’m scared she thinks she has to.
“Daddy?” she whispers as I enter her bedroom. I do my best to pull back her covers while still holding her. It’s not as easy as it used to be. Once I do, I gently place her down and bring the blankets back up.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I really like Betsy.”
I smile, because the Emerson seal of approval is the real deal.
“I do too.” I smile as I brush her hair back from her head and kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
I exit the room, slowly closing the door behind me. I quickly go to Hank and Magnolia’s room to pull down their blankets so it won’t be as hard to put them to bed.
When I make my way back down the stairs, I stop again at the sight in front of me. Betsy has fallen back asleep. Hank and Magnolia haven’t moved an inch.
I don’t take a picture this time. No, this time I take it in. But I’m not looking at my kids.
No, I’m looking at the woman who came into our lives when we were least expecting it. The one who is quickly making all of us forget the hurt. Who is reminding us what it’s like to be happy.
The one who is making it harder and harder for me as the days go by to not feel some sort of way about her.
Chapter14
Betsy
I’ve been knownto make some pretty dumb decisions in my life.
There were the plethora of jobs that I took, most of them with me knowing they weren’t going to pan out. There were, of course, the men I’ve dated and/or slept with. I’d like to forget about most of those. Except a few. When I’m old and gray I’ll still—hopefully—have the memory of the male stripper from spring break in Vegas.
And still, even with all of those questionable decisions on my resume, today might take the cake. Because I came home to Birmingham for Thanksgiving with my parents.
It’s everything I hoped it wouldn’t be.
“So Betsy,” my mother begins. “Did you hear about your cousin Ingrid?”
I let out a breath as I set down my fork. “No, Mom. I haven’t.”
“I’m surprised, I know she put it on social media. She got engaged.”
I try not to roll my eyes at the news. My cousin Ingrid has been trying to get her M.R.S. degree since the day she stepped foot onto campus at Alabama.
I have a lot of other things I want to say. Like asking if she’s going to drop out so she can start popping out kids now, since she only went to college to find a husband. Or I could ask how many fraternities she had to go through before she found him.
But I don’t. Because I’m a polite fucking Southern lady.
“Good for her,” I choke out, quickly taking a bite of turkey so I have a reason to not talk.
“It is,” Mom continues. “The wedding will be this spring.”
“She pregnant or something?”
“Betsy Ann!” she yells. Oops. Apparently I didn’t say it as under my breath as I would have liked.
