Page 111 of One and Only

I didn’t wait to see what my words did to her. I couldn’t.

There was no way to chase the threads I’d just pulled open. Not quickly or easily.

Because if they made her sad, I’d do just about anything to erase that feeling for her. If they frustrated her, I’d let her tell me why, simply to undo a little bit of the burden we were both carrying. If they angered her, well … we’d probably end up naked on the floor within three minutes, her thighs tight against my side, my hands gripped tight in her hair, and none of those options seemed especially prudent.

“I’m gonna shower,” I told her. “I’ll be ready to leave in about thirty minutes.”

The drive to pick up Olive was quiet.

Painfully.

Uncomfortably.

I’d seen Greer a lot of different ways since she barreled into my life, and I’d never seen her quiet.

And once my daughter was strapped safely into the back seat of my car, the quiet continued. Olive told us about her sleepover, and Greer asked her some questions about her cousins, but the two of us didn’t have much in the way of interaction.

Suddenly, the distraction of being at her family’s house wasn’t quite so simple.

Because we couldn’t distract ourselves forever, and the one time our eyes caught and held before I turned down their driveway, I could tell she was thinking the exact same thing.

Showing up this time, more than the first or even the second, I felt like a fraud.

It crawled up on me slowly, throughout the drive. Like a delayed ramification of the purely need-driven moment we’d shared at the reception.

It was all wrong.

It shouldn’t be this way.

And the only reason it was this way was because of me. Because I’d convinced myself that it would work, I’d convinced myself that it had to work so that I could have this chance to be the parent I’d never had. Be the parents I needed and hadn’t got.

My lungs felt brittle and cold. My brain raced in choppy pulses that I couldn’t stop.

Olive gripped my hand tightly as we left the car, still holding the slightest of nerves at showing up to this big, welcoming place where everyone was so thrilled to see us.

Poppy greeted us first, a tight hug for Greer and a more reserved polite smile for me. And for Olive, she crouched down and told her that their barn cat had some kittens, if she wanted to go for a visit.

Olive glanced up at me with excited eyes, and I nodded. Poppy held her hand out, and Olive took it tentatively. Standing quietly by my side, Greer glanced up at me with questioning eyes.

“You look like you’re freaking out a little,” she said evenly. Her parents hadn’t come outside yet, neither had Cameron.

I managed a nod. “A little.”

But there was nothing to be done. We just had to get through this day of pretend.

Sheila opened the door first, smile wide and eyes happy. “Come in, come in, I’ve got some bread right out of the oven.”

Greer sighed. “I love coming here.”

“Ihaveoffered to teach you,” her mom said gently.

Greer slung an arm over her mom’s shoulders. “I can’t help it if it tastes better when you make it.”

Tim gave his daughter a hug, and I couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost weight, even in the couple of weeks since I’d seen him. But he was still walking on his own, and when he shook my hand, his grip was strong.

“How was the wedding?” he asked.

Greer choked on her piece of bread.

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