by Mia Ford
I glance over at Grant, wondering if he heard me. But he’s focusing very hard on ripping the rest of the package away, and doesn’t appear to even realize that Allison and I are talking.
“Sorry,” Allison says quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I didn’t mean to snap,” I say with a small smile. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about what happened, yet. And the first person I should talk to about…”
I glance into the room again. If I ever voice my reasons for what happened between us three years ago, Grant has to be the first one to hear it. I don’t know why or if I’ll ever be ready to talk to him about it, but he does have the right to get the reasons before anyone else.
I don’t believe he’ll understand. No one will. But that’s okay. Some days, I’m not sure I understand what was going through my head. It was through sheer force of will that I didn’t go running back to Grant not long after we broke up. It was only the realization of my pregnancy that had kept me away.
“I understand,” Allison says with a small smile. “But don’t stress about it too much. You guys have got your plate full with Owen, now. And you should look at this as something good. Now you’ve got Grant to help out.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
I glance at Grant and Owen again. The truck is now free of its packaging, and the two of them are playing with it. Owen is giggling and there’s a wide smile on Grant’s face. It’s happy and free, and it strikes me that this is the first time I’ve seen that expression on his face.
The ache grows fiercer. It hurts to watch them be happy. It takes me a moment to understand why. When I do, I can’t believe how selfish I am.
Watching Owen with Grant doesn’t hurt because I’m worried about being usurped in Owen’s eyes. It hurts because I’ve missed three years of watching them play together. This quiet, pleasurable peace, standing in the doorway and watching my son play with his father, is something that I didn’t realize I wanted. Now it aches to know that I could have had it all along if only I hadn’t been so foolish.
Yet it’s my own fault. I don’t have the right to be upset about what I’ve been missing. Grant missed far more than I did, and now he’s here in the hopes of making up that lost time.
I close my eyes and nod. Here and now, I’ve decided. I’m going to make sure Grant gets as much time as he can with Owen. Owen deserves to know more about his father.
And Grant deserves to have some time with his son.
Abruptly, I turn away.
“Coffee?” I ask Allison.
“Yes, please,” she says gratefully.
I take one last look at the scene. Neither Owen or Grant are paying any attention to us. Then I head to the kitchen with Allison. I don’t know how my life is going to change now, but I can only hope that it’s for the better.
Chapter Twelve
Grant
Watching Owen play with the toy truck that I bought him makes my chest tighten with a feeling that I’m not familiar with. It’s warm and deep, and utterly terrifying. The sound of his giggles as the wheels of the truck run back and forth over the carpeted room makes me feel happier than I could have thought possible. But, at the same time, it brings the fact that this boy is mine, that I am half responsible for a small child, into sharp clarity.
What am I supposed to do with this kid? At the moment, he seems happy to play with his toys while I’m sitting there, none the wiser to the fact that I’m his absent father. He hasn’t asked me any questions or made any accusations, and I’m kicking myself for even expecting that to happen; the boy is three, after all.
At the same time, though, I know that I’m still just a stranger in his eyes. He isn’t worried about my presence, if only because his mother, the one person he’s familiar with and trusts more than anything else in the world, has allowed it. On one hand, I’m grateful that Jessica hasn’t caused a fuss about allowing me to get to know Owen, and isn’t petty enough to try and turn the boy against me.
On the other hand, though, it hurts.
If I had known Owen since he was born, this wouldn’t be an issue. He would look at me with the same loving admiration that he looks at Jessica with. Instead, I’m just another visitor, and that’s all it will be until his young mind eventually connects the dots and tells him that I’m something more.
It’s going to mean visiting a lot. Owen can’t get used to me if I’m not around, and I’m determined to become just as big a part of his life as Jessica. I toyed briefly with the idea of fighting for custody, but I quickly dropped that idea. Not because I don’t want to take Owen, but because the thought of taking him away from Jessica, who raised him for three years on her own, makes me uneasy. For now, I’ll settle for visitation rights, and we can work out a way to parent him as a team, even if we live apart. Lots of parents do it, after all; if they can do it, we can, too.
I glance toward the kitchen. I noticed when Allison and Jessica left the room, and it makes me feel warmer than I want to admit to that Jessica is comfortable leaving me alone with Owen, even if only for a few minutes. Does that mean she trusts me? Of course, that makes me wonder, even more, what possible reason she could have had for not telling me about Owen in the first place.
“Here!”
At the sound of Owen’s childish voice, I blink and look up. Owen is beaming at me, his smile spread wide over his chubby cheeks, and holding out a small, blue car. Not sure what else to do, I hold out my hand, and he dumps the car in my palm.
“That’s your car,” he informs me, dropping back to the ground. “Look!”
He’s got another car, a green one that has obviously been well loved from the dents on it and the chips on the paintwork. He’s gripping it tightly as he scoots over to where he’s put a few blocks together.
At first, I’m not sure what he’s doing. Then, excitedly making “vroom” noises, Owen puts the car on the blocks and pushes it alone.
“Oh, it’s a road!” I say in sudden comprehension.
It’s a small road. I eye it and then grin.
“Want to make it bigger?” I offer.
Owen looks up at me, his eyes sparkling.
“Yeah!” he exclaims.
I lose track of time before I know it. Between Owen and I, we clear a huge space on the floor, and I help him make a long, winding road out of blocks. At one point, I see Jessica poke her head in the room to see what we’re doing, but I don’t pay her any attention, and then she’s gone. I don’t see her again, but I don’t doubt that she’s hanging around.
Once the road is finished, we spend more time than I realize racing the cars around the track. Owen is laughing the entire time, and I don’t want to stop. He’s so happy, smiling at me with such brilliance, and part of me is terrified that I’ll never have a chance to see this again if I stop playing with him now.
Before I realize it, though, the sky outside the window is darkening, and Jessica steps fully into the room for the first time.
“Are you hungry, Owen?” she asks.
The spell broken suddenly, Owen and I blink at Jessica in unison, surprised at the interruption. As her words filter through my brain, I look out the window. It’s already evening. Have I really been playing with Owen for so long?
“Yeah!” Owen cheers, scrambling to his feet.
“Come on, we have fish,” Jessica says, holding out her hand.
Owen runs to her and grabs her palm without hesitation. Envy floods through me at the sight. The relationship between Jessica and Owen is so loving and trusting. I want that with him too, more than anything.
Then Jessica looks at me. She still looks tired, but there’s an openness about her expression that wasn’t there before. A small smile creeps onto her face.
“I hope you’re staying for dinner,” she says. “I made extra for everyone.”
I recognize it as the peace offering it is. It isn’t quite an apology, but it is Jessica reminding me that I’m welcome to stay for as long as I want, even if it encroaches on dinner
time. Even if she’s uncomfortable sitting at the same table with me, she’ll endure it for Owen’s sake.
“Yeah, Daddy, stay for dinner!” Owen beseeches before I can reply.
I can’t say no to that. Hearing Owen say “Daddy” gives me a jolt each time, and I know it will be a while before I’ll be able to resist him for anything when he says it.
“Sure,” I say, then glance at Jessica. “Thanks.”
Her smile grows just a little bit. “It’s no problem. Allison is still here, too.”
As terrible as it is, that fact makes me relieved. Dinner with just Allison and Owen would have been incredibly awkward, because I wouldn’t know what to say or how to act. I’m grateful Allison is staying and, from the look on Jessica’s face, she is too. Neither of us wants to be alone with each other, especially after what happened the last few times we were together in the same room.
Allison is in the kitchen as we walk in, and she smiles over at all of us.
“Have fun?” she asks Owen and me, though there’s a teasing glint in her eyes as she glances at me.
I suddenly wonder how many pictures she’s snuck of me playing with Owen to show Kyle later. Shit, I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?
“Yeah, we had fun,” I tell her, refusing to rise to the bait. “Jessica said you’re staying for dinner?”
“It got late and I’m hungry,” she says with a laugh, winking at me.
I can tell it isn’t the only reason she’s decided to stay, so I give her a small smile. It surprises me that Allison can be so cheerful around me; I’ve been worried that she was upset about me using her to get Jessica’s address and phone number. While I never actually lied to her, and I definitely didn’t correct her when she jumped to the wrong conclusion.
What does she think about everything? Either Kyle or Jessica would have told her the story by now. She doesn’t seem to think anything less of either of us, but that doesn’t surprise me. As headstrong as Allison is, she also cares deeply about the people around her, and I already know that neither Jessica nor I would lose her friendship over this. Somehow, she’s managing to balance it all, I’m okay with that as long as she doesn’t feel badly toward me.
“Anything I can do?” I offer.
“Can you get some plates out?” Jessica asks, gesturing to a cupboard.
It’s oddly awkward to be opening Jessica’s cupboard and looking at the plates and cups in there. A long time ago, Jessica and I used to host people for dinner all the time, and I was always the one to set the table. Now, though, it feels like I’m a stranger trying to step into my past self’s shoes, as though I don’t belong in Jessica’s kitchen, rummaging through her cupboard for plates.
I shake the feeling away. After everything that’s happened, looking for plates shouldn’t be the most awkward thing.
I grab three china plates and find a plastic plate that doubtlessly belongs to Owen. He’s already scrambled up into a chair and is making two toy cars, the green one and a red one, crash into each other over and over again. He isn’t paying any attention to the adults in the kitchen.
“We’ve got some potatoes and salad,” Jessica says to me. “That okay?”
“That’s fine,” I assure her.
Allison carries the salad bowl over the table, and I turn away, busying myself with getting some cups out and filling them with water. Strangely, the room feels a little more cramped now that it’s just Jessica and me, and I try to ignore her.
“Can you take this plate over to the table?” she asks suddenly.
“Sure,” I say, taking the plate of hot potatoes and fleeing the room. I pass Allison, who gives me a sympathetic smile.
Owen looks up as I approach and grins.
“Look!” he says proudly, holding up the battered green car. “Green won!”
I glance at the floor. The red car is there on its side, where it was either dropped or forced off the side of the table. I laugh and lean down to pick it up.
“I can see,” I say, amused. “It’s almost dinner, so do you want me to put this car on the table?”
I almost offer to take the green car, too. But he’s clutching that car possessively, and I know better than to try and take it off him right now. So I smile and put the red car on the kitchen counter before taking my seat as Jessica brings over the plates I left in the kitchen in my hurry to leave, and Allison carries a plate of fried fish pieces.
If I’d thought working beside Jessica in the kitchen was weird, though, sitting down to dinner with her, her best friend and our son is even stranger. Jessica gives me a strained smile as she sits, no more impervious to the atmosphere than I am, and clears her throat.
“Did you have fun, Owen?” she asks the boy.
“Yes!” Owen beams, and I smile at him. “Is Daddy going to come back?”
“I…” Jessica falters and looks at me, unsure of my answer.
“Of course,” I tell Owen. “I’ll talk to your mom about it, okay?”
“Okay,” Owen says, satisfied.
I glance at Jessica. She doesn’t look unhappy at my answer, but she isn’t smiling, either. I look down at my plate and busy myself with cutting up my fish.
Owen chatters all the way through dinner, drawing conversation from all three adults, but it’s hard not to see the tension between Jessica and I. When dinner finally ends, Allison coughs and gives us a strained smile.
“Hey, Owen, do you want to put a movie on?” she asks.
“Mommy and Daddy too?” Owen asks, glancing at us.
“We’ll come soon,” Jessica assures him. “Right now, we just need to chat, okay, Owen? So, can you go with Allison and put a movie in?”
Owen grins at her and trots obediently after Allison, taking her hand when she holds it out. I watch them go.
“He’s a good kid,” I murmur when they’re gone.
“He is,” Jessica agrees. She sighs. “Okay, so how are we going to work this? Do you have some idea of what days you have free?”
She’s really going to work with me on this? I’m pleased and a little touched.
“I thought I’d find out what days Owen is at daycare first,” I explain. “I won’t be here every free day, so you get your time with him, too.”
Jessica blinks and then smiles tremulously. It hits me that she was just as worried about my meeting working out with Owen, but for a very different reason.
“Sounds good,” she says quietly. “He only goes to daycare two days a week, on Wednesdays and Saturday. I usually work those days at the local grocery store, though I had last Saturday off because we were closed for renovations.”
“Right,” I say with a nod. “I don’t work on Saturdays or Sundays. I work all day on a Friday, and Fiona and I swap day and night shifts through the rest of the week. What if I say I’ll come around on Sundays and during the days on Thursdays? That gives you Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays without me here.”
She looks slightly stunned, as though she can’t believe how reasonable I’m being over all this. I frown at her, feeling a little insulted. I want to make this work, for both of us.
“Yeah, I think that’ll be great,” Jessica says after a moment. “Thanks for being willing to work around us.”
“There’s no point in upsetting the balance,” I say, shaking my head. “I want to be part of Owen’s life, not rip it apart.” I pause. “Thanks for the tip about the toy cars.”
“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile. “Regardless of…anything else, I really do want this to work, too.”
I tense. She’s touched on the one subject I don’t want to talk about. I would have given anything for explanations or even for her to just say we’ll talk about it one day, but I got nothing. Now I don’t want any of it. I just want to see my son and figure out the feelings I still have for her.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Jessica got the memo.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to message you,” Jessica says quietly. “I really think we need to
talk.”
Anger flushes through me. So she has the right to demand a conversation when she wants it? I glare at her and she draws back, startled.
“No,” I say bluntly.
“What?” Jessica asks, shocked that I’m refusing her. “What do you…?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I say. “Not about anything that doesn’t have to do with Owen. Right now, I’m only here because Owen is my son and I want to get to know him. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here at all, do you get it?”
“I…?” Jessica’s eyes are over bright, shimmer with tears. “But…”
“I don’t want to talk about us,” I cut in briskly. I need to say this. I need to put my foot down. “I don’t want to talk about what happened or why you left me, or what happened between us on Friday and Saturday. There’s nothing to talk about anymore... There is no us anymore.”
It’s cruel, but it’s true. There is no longer any relationship between Jessica and I, so there’s no sense talking about it. We’ve slept together, but that was just because we were shocked and angry and seeking closure that we didn’t get three years ago. It can’t happen again, because I don’t want it to. I’m done being tied emotionally to Jessica. She’s the mother of my child, but that’s it. There’s nothing more.
“I understand,” Jessica says, and her voice trembles. “But can’t we just…?”
“Not anymore,” I say. I turn to her and give her a hard look. “You had your opportunity to talk to me three years ago. You could have told me why you were leaving me. You could have told me that I had a son. You even had an opportunity, on Friday, to tell me what was on your mind, but you ran away instead. There are no more opportunities, Jessica. I don’t want to know anymore. I want to get to know Owen and that’s it. That’s all I want from you.”
Her eyes are wide, like she can’t believe what I’m saying. Then she lowers her eyes for a moment before hitching a smile on her face and looking up again.
“I think Allison and Owen are waiting for us,” she says. “Knowing him, we’ll be watching a Disney movie. Is that alright?”
