Page 75 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
“That’s ridiculous.” Natalie put a hand on her belly. “Showing his son that he loves someone and lets himself be loved is a wonderful thing.”
“It is,” I agreed, “but he has a lot of guilt over not wanting a baby before his son was born. Part of him still feels like he has to make up for that.”
“But where does that leave you?” Skylar pressed.
I sighed. “It leaves me wondering what I originally wondered. Is there a place for me in his life or not? But…I’m scared to ask. I love him now. What if the answer is not?”
“OK, I know I’m the baby sister here,” said Natalie, “but I have to say from experience, staying in a relationship where you’re not happy just because you’re scared of what will happen when you ask the hard questions is a bad idea.”
“I second that.” Skylar held up one hand. “In addition, there have to be truthful answers. If Sebastian had been honest with me about his relapse when it started instead of waiting until the breaking point, it could have saved us a lot of pain.”
I tossed my tissue in the trash and washed my hands. “So you think I should say something more?”
“Yes,” they said together.
“But what? I’ve already said that I want to meet his son, and I’m ready. It’s Levi who isn’t. Do I say do it or else?” Groaning, I tipped my forehead into my hands. “I don’t want to issue any ultimatums. That is so not me.”
“I don’t think you have to put it that way,” Natalie said. “But I do think you’re worth more than you’re getting. I wish you believed that.”
“Me too,” said Skylar.
I nodded, feeling the tears threaten again. I had a decision to make. Could I be content with what I had with him for now and trust that it would grow to be more over time? Or should I ask for more, believing I was worth it, and risk losing him?
I spent all of Thanksgiving Day worrying.
I arrived at my parents’ with a pie that Jillian had given me to bring, a cherry pie her mother had baked.
“How sweet,” my mother said, taking it out of the box and leaning in to smell it. I had the urge to do that too, thinking it would smell like Jillian.
Jesus. I was messed up.
“When do we get to meet the famous Jillian?” my mother asked, setting the pie on the counter. “You could have brought her tonight, you know. Did you invite her, like I asked?”
“She’s with her family,” I said, avoiding the question. Later, at the table, I fretted so much I could hardly eat.
Jillian was getting restless. I could feel it. And she had every right to be. It was wrong of me to keep her from meeting Scotty. She loved me and she wanted to be part of my whole life, not just my Girl Friday anymore. Could I blame her?
I didn’t like it either. From Saturday through Thursday, I thought of her every other minute. So many times I caught myself wanting to bring up her name to Scotty, so it wouldn’t be such a shock to bring her into our life as someone who was important to me but completely unknown to him. A gradual approach would be better.
And she would be so great with him, wouldn’t she? She’d understand his mind and his quirks and his sweetness better than anyone could, not only because she loved and understood me, but because she was a pediatrician, which meant she’d dedicated years of her life to helping kids feel better. What more could I ask for?
She’d been totally right about the lucky stone idea. After the Thursday math test debacle last month when he’d wet himself in the attempt to get out of school, I’d purchased a satiny smooth Petoskey stone for him at a gift shop and told him it was a lucky rock. He kept it in his pocket at school, and when he felt anxious about a test or an assignment, he’d take it out and hold it in his hand or put it on his desk where he could see it.
When I’d thanked her for the idea and told her she was brilliant, she’d blushed and said how happy she was to be of help.
So why the fuck was I so scared of taking the final step and letting her all the way in?
I’d made a thousand excuses in my head—it was too soon, it wouldn’t be right for Scotty, it would take away from our alone time, she was only saying she wanted to meet him to be polite, my family would criticize me, Scotty might act up…
But the truth was, I was scared.
And I hated myself for it.
But I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she wanted me that much. That she’d be willing to stay once she saw that some days, I was barely holding things together. That she’d be willing to love a child that wasn’t hers for me, when I hadn’t been enough to make even his own mother stay.
I hadn’t loved Tara, so her leaving didn’t hurt me, but her abandonment of Scotty had scarred me in a different way.
There were times in the last eight years when he’d needed a father and a mother, when I’d needed someone with whom I could share the beautiful, painful honor of bringing him up in this world, someone who understood the blame I placed on myself when things didn’t go well for him, the way he could break my heart and put it back together again.
