Page 90 of We Were Something
Jen snorts. “Ifshe comes back. She’s probably going through your mother’s jewelry.”
At that image, I actually laugh, a silly part of me enjoying the far-fetched idea that Paige wouldeverfeel the urge to paw through my mother’s old-fashioned jewelry when she has more money than either Jen or I could ever evenimaginehaving in our possession.
“That’s probably exactly what she’s doing,” I respond. “And you know what? If she is, I hope she finds something she likes.”
My ex doesn’t have anything to say in response to that, so we sit silently for a while longer, the distant beep of the heart monitor in my mom’s room keeping us constant company.
“I’ll be nicer to your plaything,” she says eventually, tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling.
“Thank you.”
I don’t waste my breath telling Jen that Paige is so much more than a fuck buddy or a plaything. Honestly, it shouldn’t matter, so I don’t know what Jen’s problem is. I can only assume her grief is causing her to lash out, because I really never would have thought Jen would care about who I’m dating.
“You need to move back, Logan.”
I turn my head to the side and find Jen watching me, sadness in her eyes.
“Whatever is wrong with your mom, she’s going to need you once she wakes up.”
“I’m not moving back to Seattle, Jen. My life is in California now. If my mom needs me, I’ll move her down to Hermosa.”
The gasp that falls from Jen’s lips is rife with pain, and her eyes—which seemed to finally run out of tears a bit ago—well anew.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers, her nose scrunching as tears drip down her face. “You wouldn’t take her away from me like that. Not now. Not after…” She chokes on her tears for a second. “Not now that Rod is gone. She’s all I have.”
I scrub at my face, shaking my head. “We don’t even need to talk about this right now. It’s been less than a day. There are so many possibilities facing us, and we can’t be jumping to conclusions. We just need to be patient and calm and wait to see what happens.”
Jen doesn’t say anything after that, but I feel her eyes on me for a long while.
Eventually, she gets up from her seat and mumbles something about going to the bathroom then wanders down the hall. I let out a long, relieved breath, thankful for the momentary reprieve from her tears and mood swings so I can focus my energy on my mother.
I don’t want to be a monster.
I understand that her guy just passed away.
But I don’t want to feel responsible for her.
I don’t want her to rely on me or my mom in the wake of her grief, and it feels like stretching myself too thin to be worried about how she’s doing when my mom is on the other side of this wall, barely surviving.
It isn’t that long before she returns, taking the seat next to mine and resting her hands protectively on her stomach.
“How far along are you?” I ask, hoping if I can direct the conversation, she won’t focus on the insane idea of me moving back to Seattle,oron her aggressive and unwarranted dislike of Paige.
“I’m due in five weeks,” she whispers.
I nod, folding my hands against my chest and staring straight ahead. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I already knew she was really close to her due date, but mostly that’s because she waited until her second trimester to tell me she was pregnant. Twelve weeks on the nose.
I knew instantly that the baby wasn’t mine.
“Who’s the dad?” I asked her as I leaned back on the dresser.
“Rodney Park,” she whispered, her eyes trained on her feet.
It made sense. They worked together at the architecture firm Jen had been at for ten years. They spent a lot of time together. I was honestly surprised I hadn’t caught on earlier.
But I hadn’t been paying attention. Hadn’t noticed the fact that she was coming home late, because I was working late. Hadn’t seen her undisturbed side of the bed because I’d been on call at the hospital.
And then, suddenly, she was twelve weeks pregnant.
