by Lara Swann
Besides, it is real. That’s the whole point. You have the documents to prove it and even if you feel self-conscious about it, no one can claim you’re not married.
I have to keep reminding myself of that. Just because I don’t consider it real doesn’t mean it isn’t.
“Believe me, I’ve got the very best lawyers working on this and I’m her Mom.” Stephanie retorts. “So if you don’t want to be stuck with insulting supervised visitations like you’re shafting me with, you should give up now.”
What. The. Actual. Hell.
I growl in sudden fury, my blood pumping as anger takes me.
“You wouldn’t dare.” I glare at her, eyes flashing as I try to stop myself from jerking the stroller from the excess energy. I feel like I’m crushing the handles with my grip at the moment and even though I’ve never pursued any kind of martial arts in my life, all I can imagine right now is being left alone with a punching bag for a few hours. “You can’t come here—with Emma just there—and threaten me—”
So far Emma doesn’t seem to have noticed anything - we’re keeping our harsh remarks barely audible and she’s still humming happily to herself - but having this kind of argument, this kind of energy, so close to my little girl sets me on edge.
“You dare.” She meets my gaze with an angry one of her own.
“Because she doesn’t know you.” I repeat again, through clenched teeth.
“I’m her Mom.” She says, as if it’s all that simple.
“You haven’t been—”
“As you’ve said.” She says, irritably, before her tone changes, taking on a condescending sweetness. “But come on Nathan, let’s at least try to be civil - for Emma’s sake, if nothing else.”
My vision turns red and I have to stop myself from snarling at her.
For fuck’s sake.
Of course. Of course she’d casually threaten limiting visitation rights and then try to tell me how to behave. Using my daughter to do it, as well.
Fuck off.
She always did know how to wind me up perfectly.
“You lost all chance of that when you tried to take my daughter away from me.” I say, barely keeping my temper in check. “If you wanted civility, you should have gone about this totally differently.”
“You and your god complex.” She shakes her head, tossing her hair behind her. She’s got that air to her that I just know she’s enjoying looking down at me from her firmly entrenched position on the moral high ground. “Everything always has to be about you, doesn’t it? You can’t think for a moment that maybe I’m doing this for her?”
That’s the moment I realize that she’s doing this deliberately - that she wants me to engage. She wants this argument, just like she wanted all the ones we had at the end. I swear there’s something in her that likes the drama, or the attention. I shut down, my whole body stiffening up in remembrance of what those times were like and if it weren’t for Emma, I’d walk away right now. Hell, I’m so god-damn tempted to walk away with Emma, screw what George said.
But I don’t. Instead, I do my best to bury my emotions as deeply as I can, and respond in a clipped, deliberately neutral tone.
“I’m not talking about this with you now, Stephanie. Not with Emma here. Not at all. We’ll settle it in court.”
With that, I call down to Emma in a forced-cheerful tone. “Hey munchkin, do you want to go fast?”
She turns around to look at me, twisting in her seat, and I make myself grin at her before starting to run with the stroller. I just want the outlet - the chance to get away from Stephanie and stop her from responding for one moment - and I’m relieved when Emma shrieks in glee, encouraging me. I do that all the way to the duck pond and thank god that it doesn’t give Stephanie a chance to continue goading me.
There’s only so much a guy can take.
When we get there - Stephanie power walking to catch up behind us - I don’t miss the contemptuous look she shoots me, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus on leading Emma down to the ducks, and when Stephanie tries to take over helping with the bread, I let her. After that, I refuse to argue anymore, but we continue to irritate and rub against each other for the next couple of hours.
By then, both Emma and I have had enough of being out, albeit for entirely different reasons - and when Stephanie leads her back from the swing set she’s playing on, I call it. To my surprise, Stephanie accepts it without an objection. I guess an afternoon is a lot of child-entertaining to get used to when you’ve never done it before.
Yet another reason she should be reconsidering this whole thing.
It’s too much to hope that will occur to her too, though.
Before we go, I crouch down next to Emma and tuck her under the chin.
“Did you have a good time with Mommy?” I ask, keeping my voice gently encouraging and deliberately pushing away how I feel about the time I’ve just had with her Mommy. This isn’t about me, even if Stephanie makes that very hard to remember sometimes.
“Yes!” She grins at me, then flings herself forward and hugs me tight - and a wave of mixed emotions comes over me, my gut clenching tight.
Oh fuck. How is it possible to feel this much love and hurt at the same time?
“I had a great time with you too, Emma.” Stephanie says, joining us, and I reluctantly let go of Emma so that she can hug her too. “And I’ll see you again really soon, okay?”
“Okay.” Emma nods easily, even as I give an inward sigh.
I know that was always going to be inevitable, but I didn’t exactly want to think about it right now.
“Okay, munchkin. Time to go home.” I say, helping her into the stroller.
She nods, her eyes blinking heavily, and I can already tell she’s going to be asleep in this thing before we get to the car.
“See?” Stephanie says in a quiet tone, as I stand back up. “It’s good for her to see me.”
“I’ve never disputed that.” I say, none of my earlier fire making it into the comment. Right now, I just feel weary. “I would have been happy to work something out, but—well, never mind. We’ll message to arrange another time.”
With that, I turn and head out of the park. By the time I get to the car, Emma is dozing just as I predicted, and I sigh deeply, part of me wishing I could join her. Right now, the idea curling up under some blankets and never having to face the world again sounds incredibly appealing. Instead, I gently set her into her car seat and then get in myself, feeling like I’ve just been through an emotional ordeal and I’m totally wrung out. I can’t remember the last time I felt this exhausted.
As I drive home, all I can think is that this is what co-parenting with Stephanie is going to be like - and if anything, it’s just going to get worse.
* * *
I make it through the rest of the day, and it’s not until I put Emma to bed that I allow myself to collapse at the kitchen table, my head in my hands.
Jessica looks over at me from where she’s standing in front of the stove, stirring something that smells amazing. For someone who claims she can’t cook, she’s got a couple of pans on the go and something else in the oven too. I’d probably be impressed if I had the slightest ability to think right now.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks, her gaze sympathetic.
“Ughh, I don’t know. That woman. It was—she—I—damn, she drives me crazy—does it deliberately too, as if it’s some kind of game to her—and I—ughh. No.” I finish, leaning back in the chair and throwing my head back to look up at the ceiling in despair. “No, I don’t think I do want to talk about it.”
“Then how about you join me for some of this instead?” She suggests, bending down to open the oven and pull out a tray of beautifully fluffy looking flatbread, the delicious savory scent of it washing over me.
I look up in surprise. “Wait, really? Are you sure?”
I haven’t even thought about dinner yet, but my stomach is already grumbling at me - especially as I keep looking o
ver at what she’s doing.
“Yeah, of course. I was making it for both of us.” She gives me knowing look. “I’ve been wanting an excuse to make a curry for a while. It’s one of the few things I can reliably cook - mostly because I found that if I tripled the recipe it lasted me a whole week of cramming in med school - and I’ve been craving it lately. I figured you could maybe use a little pick-me-up after the day you’ve had, too.”
She drains the rice while she’s talking and starts serving up onto the two plates laid out before her - something I hadn’t even noticed until now - and before I can think of anything to say, she’s setting a steaming plate down in front of me.
“It’s definitely the kind of comfort food I find myself wanting, anyway.” She adds, her expression softening as she looks at me for a moment, before she turns away to set the naan on the table and grab a few condiments.
I get a sudden surge of warmth as she does, feeling undeniably touched by the gesture - that she knows I’ve had a shit day and she went out of her way to make me something she loves because of it. I have to swallow down that feeling of gratitude and appreciation as the strength of it threatens to overwhelm me, knowing I’m probably absurdly overreacting, my emotional state still totally off balance from the day I’ve had.
“Shit, Jessica…that’s…thank you.” I say, and I think I’m grateful when she just laughs.
“It’s just dinner, Nathan.” She says, grabbing a bottle of wine sitting on the counter too and pouring a couple of glasses, throwing a smile over her shoulder as she does. “Well, and maybe the wine too.”
She brings the glasses over and finally settles down opposite me.
“I figured that if we’re going to have champagne when we’ve got something to celebrate, then we should have wine on nights like this to commiserate.” She places one in front of me and shrugs idly. “But if you don’t feel like drinking, I’m sure I could manage them both myself.”
“No, wine sounds…like a good idea right now.” I say, taking a long sip and sinking the comforting, warming nature of the deep-bodied red wine.
Maybe the fact that I feel like I need it right now should deter me - I’m pretty sure that’s a terrible reason to drink - but screw it. Right now, lulling myself into forgetting the rest of the world seems like a good idea.
She joins me, but we don’t bother with the toasting or any of that - instead helping ourselves to the naan bread and starting to eat.
“Oh god, Jess. This is incredible.” I enthuse, after just a few mouthfuls.
“As I said, one of the few things I can cook.” She grins at me, inhaling in appreciation herself.
We eat in a companionable silence, too focused on enjoying the food and wine for anything else, and it’s just what I need. It’s only when I feel my body start to relax, slumping a little bit in the chair, that I realize how tightly wound I’ve been ever since this afternoon with Stephanie. Eventually the wine kicks in too, and I start to breathe a little bit easier, some of the stress melting away. That might only be temporary, but right now, I’ll take that.
“Thank you, Jess.” I say, my voice warm as I finish the last of the curry on my plate, sitting back with a contented sigh. “This was exactly what I needed.”
“Any time.” She smiles, turning the wine glass idly in her hands as we sit there together.
I feel a wave of gratitude that she’s content to stay like this, not needing to ask about the visit or pry any further. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t called Mom yet, even though I desperately wanted the comfort of her support earlier. I know she’ll want to hear all about it and I just couldn’t face that level of questioning. It’s understandable, of course - Emma means just as much to her as she does to me - but sometimes it doesn’t make this any easier.
After a while, though, some of it just starts coming out of me anyway.
“It was harder than I thought.” I say eventually, sighing deeply. “I haven’t seen Stephanie in so long and it just brings back all these memories…all these thoughts…not about her, I’m so over her, but I guess maybe I’m not over everything else in the same way. The life we were going to have…all those hopes and dreams for the future…stupid, huh?”
I shake my head, knowing it probably sounds pathetic, but unable to stop my mind from going there right now.
“It’s not stupid.” Jessica says, her hand reaching out to grip my arm, drawing my gaze back to her - and the understanding warmth in her eyes. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to have that in the back of your mind - those thoughts of how you expected this period of your life to be—”
“But that’s just the thing - it’s not in the back of my mind. It hasn’t been. It’s not something I think about. There’s been so much else to focus on and the only thing that really matters is giving Emma a good life, whatever that looks like, so…there’s been no space for those thoughts. Not until today, at least. And now…now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“This is the first time you’ve spent any real time with Stephanie since she left you both…that’s understandable, Nathan.” Jessica says softly. “Your mind is going to be all over the place for a while.”
“Yeah.” I sigh again. “I guess you’re right. It’s just—ughh—”
I run my hand through my hair, closing my eyes briefly. She’s right, I know she is, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
“I just didn’t think seeing Stephanie would affect me like this.”
“It’s not just Stephanie, though - it’s the case as well.” Jessica points out. “If you want my advice…try to cut yourself some slack, Nathan. You’re dealing with this just fine—and that includes all of this, too.”
My eyes flick to hers and I give her a brief, grateful smile, for the sentiment if nothing else - and that she’s here with me, listening to all my crap. I didn’t even realize I needed to talk. I’m not sure I wanted to, but there’s something about her that just seems to draw it out of me. I’m not sure when she got so good with all this, either. I’m pretty sure if someone unloaded all this on me, I wouldn’t have a clue what to say, but she’s sitting there, so calm and understanding that everything she says seems to help. There’s something soothing about it.
I should probably feel bad - she made such a nice dinner, we’re talking over a nice bottle of wine and…I’m definitely bringing the mood down - but there’s nothing about her that suggests impatience or frustration. It makes it easy just to talk, but still, I should probably just…stop.
“Emma likes her, you know.” I find myself saying instead, the words coming unbidden just when I thought I was done.
My gut churns as I say it, and I realize that this is the thing I’m really dwelling on - the confusing mess of feelings that I’ve been avoiding looking at too closely. Now, though, the words spill out.
“Which I should be happy about, I know I should—it’s healthy and good for her—and I am—I think I am—but, I don’t know—”
“Heyy, whoa, Nathan…” Jessica’s soothing voice breaks in, as I breathe in deeply and squeeze my eyes shut, my hands clenching on the table as I try to deal with the sudden tension.
It’s so messed up. It’s all so messed up. As I talk about it, my heart aches inside my chest, feeling bruised and torn even though it has no right to. Whatever Emma thinks of Stephanie, she still loves me just as much. I know that. My little girl hasn’t done anything wrong—and seeing her Mom—is probably—a good thing.
Even the thoughts hurt.
“Nathan…”
I blink through it, glancing up to see Jessica looking at me with concern. It’s only then I realize I’m taking gasping breaths, my hands are clenching and unclenching as I work through it.
“Sorry.” I say, my voice unexpectedly hoarse. “I…”
I don’t even know what I’m going to say, or how to explain the storm raging in my mind.
“You’re going to be okay.” She says softly. “I know it’s shit right now, but believe me, you don’t need
to be blaming yourself for how you’re feeling on top of all that. It’s totally understandable that letting Stephanie anywhere near Emma right now is difficult and challenging, even if you think it might be the right thing for her. It’s okay to feel that way - you’re still doing what you think is right, regardless, which is a hell of a lot harder than you’re giving yourself credit for. That’s what matters.”
Somehow, her words manage to penetrate, drawing my attention back to her - where she holds my gaze evenly, not flinching from any of the rawness of how I feel.
“And Nathan…” She continues, now that she obviously has my attention. “Don’t forget - whatever Emma might think about the idea of having a Mommy too - you’re still the most important person in the world to her. She adores you. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but it’s impossible to miss the way she loves and looks up to you…all the little ways she wants to make her Daddy proud…her excitement at seeing you…everything. You’re more devoted to that little girl than anything I’ve ever seen. The two of you are almost impossibly sweet together. Whatever happens with Stephanie, nothing is ever going to come between that. You’ve been everything to Emma these last few years, and that’s not going to change.”
Oh…fuck.
“Shit, Jessica…I…”
The surge of emotion makes it hard to talk, everything she’s saying hitting me hard. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until just now.
I’m doing a good job. Emma does need me. Love me. I matter to her.
I do already know that, of course, but it’s something else entirely to hear someone else say it - to know that someone else has seen it. I look up at Jessica, gratitude welling up inside me as she squeezes my arm emphatically, an earnest look in her eyes.
It almost undoes me to see how much she cares, and before I know what I’m doing I find myself reaching forward, spurred by gratitude and emotion…and the soft warmth that’s been here between us all evening.
