Page 42 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
But I couldn’t.
“Jillian,” I whispered.
“I know,” she said softly, stroking my hair. “I know.”
• • •
“Monica, can I talk to you about something?” My sister and I were sitting in the living room at our parents’ house, drinking a beer and watching our kids and her husband Kyle play a board game on the floor. Her daughters—Emerson and Zoe, ages nine and six—were good with Scotty, and understood that he liked to play games exactly as the rules stated without any deviation. There was no letting Zoe win because she was the youngest, and there were no do-overs if you didn’t get the spin you wanted.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask a favor.”
On the hour-long drive to Charlevoix, I’d thought of nothing but Jillian, specifically the task ahead—how and when should I introduce her to Scotty? I was crazy about her, but maybe I was just crazy, period. Did she even realize what she was getting into? My life (my child) wasn’t easy. And I didn’t want to confuse Scotty by bringing her into our lives and then having to explain her absence if she didn’t have the feelings I did, or if she decided we were too much to ha
ndle.
She and I needed more alone time together, but how could I manage that? Friday night dates were fun, but seeing her only once a week for a few hours wasn’t really enough time to get to know each other—especially since we tended to spend half that time naked and sweaty. No, we needed real time together. And in order to have that, I needed to get Scotty accustomed to staying the night somewhere without me, or staying at our house overnight when I wasn’t there. I couldn’t ask Sarah to stay the night, so that left my parents or sister. Which one would stress Scotty out the least was anyone’s guess, since none of them really understood the way his mind worked. My mother could probably come stay at the house with him, which would be preferable to having him have to sleep in a strange bed, but I’d decided to go with my sister. One, I wasn’t positive how my mother would react to my leaving my son to go spend the night with a woman I’d only been dating a few weeks, and didn’t want any additional guilt about it. Two, I felt more comfortable talking about it with my sister—she could get judgmental too, but it would be less embarrassing at least.
“Ask away.”
“Do you think Scotty could stay overnight at your house some weekend?”
She thought for a second, tipping up her beer. “Do you think he’d do it?”
I frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know. It might be…difficult, because he won’t like not sleeping in his regular bed in his regular room, but maybe if we brought a few things from home, he’d handle it OK.” I tried not to think about how unsettled he became simply from adding something different to the nighttime prayers. Guilt pricked at me—was this too selfish?
“I’m certainly willing to try. Do you have to travel for work?”
“No.” I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck, trying to shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong. “The truth is…I met someone.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“Yeah. At that wedding a couple weeks ago.”
She hit my arm. “You didn’t say anything about it, you big jerk! I could have stayed longer that night.”
“Well, it was a rough night with Scotty, remember, and I didn’t feel right being away from home when he was so upset.”
“He’s not a baby anymore, Levi. And he’s got to get used to doing things without you and things that are new to him and things that aren’t part of his routine or whatever. It’s for his own good and yours.”
My stomach tightened. Don’t get into this now. At least she was supportive of my dating someone. “Anyway, a Saturday night would be great. I could bring him over in the afternoon and pick him up in the morning, and of course I’d keep in touch with you the whole time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax. I have two kids. I haven’t killed either of them so far.”
“I know, but Scotty is different, and if he starts to melt down, I want to know about it right away.”
“Fine. Now tell me about the girl.” Her eyes lit up.
I took a sip of my beer before answering. “Her name’s Jillian. She’s a pediatrician.”
“Really? How old is she?”
“Thirty. I actually met her years ago.” I filled her in on my first meeting with Jillian, leaving out the closet fuck.
Monica loved it. “How cool to run into her after all this time! And she’s never been married?”
“No.”
