I hadn’t been totally without updates on Ian. Eddie J had been texting me regularly since I’d returned to Kirby Falls. The man was determined for us to be friends, and I couldn’t say I minded. I knew that Ian had wrapped up filming in the studio very recently. And I also knew that Ian had fired Gloria after what went down at the premiere. A better person might have felt regret at that. But I was a vindictive asshole, and only wished her good riddance.
“Where are you?” I asked, curious despite myself. Then, aware of my listening parents and how awkward this might get, I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“In London still. One more night, then on to New York. Are you okay? Has the media been bothering you?” Ian’s face got closer like he’d leaned forward.
“No, I’m fine. Candace fielded the calls to the orchard. And I guess you heard about the town’s help.” My voice caught on the last word, so I switched gears. “Anyway, they’re gone now. Everything’s fine.”
There was a moment of silence while we just looked at one another.
A hundred words crowded my throat, a dozen conversations leaping to attempted fruition.
I’m sorry I left that way. I’m sorry I left at all. I wish I could be someone bold and glamorous and brave. I wish I could be right for you. I wish you were here, beside me. I love you, too. Fuck ... I love you.
But what came out was, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he answered roughly. “Yeah, I’m good. I wish I was there, you know.”
“Me too,” I told him honestly. If he were here, we could talk.
Maybe Candace was right. Maybe we could figure this out.
“I’m sorry,” Ian said suddenly. “About the last time we spoke. I shouldn’t have pressured you like that or told you things you weren’t ready to hear.”
I frowned. “No, Ian. You don’t have anything to—I’msorry. I reacted badly. I was hurt and?—”
“All finished!” George shouted as he ran into the living room. “Now I’m going to take you to visit Ralph.”
Before either one of us could react, George snatched the phone and hustled out the front door. I heard his little feet pound across the porch and down the steps.
Releasing a pained breath, I collapsed onto the sofa, wishing so many things could be different.
When George returned ten minutes later, the video call had ended, and the kid had a dozen new pictures of Ralph to show me. I didn’t let my disappointment show. After all, I was grateful to have George here. I didn’t want to consider how difficult this would all be if he was halfway across the world right now, too.
With Darren, it was just the five of us for dinner. Candace was having a lot of morning sickness, all hours of the day. I’d been checking on her often, bringing her different ginger food items to try. I’d been reading a lot about pregnancy and wanted to help Candace and Mercer however I could, ridiculously happy at the thought of being an aunt in the near future.
I’d never really considered having a family of my own. But it was hard to ignore how much I loved George. Spending so much time with him in the fields, witnessing his youthful exuberance and curiosity, I was grateful to be a part of his life. I thought seven-year-olds were pretty perfect. I loved how excited he got and how big his emotions were. I loved his sweetness and the simplicity of his world. But I also had the intense desire to see the kind of person he’d grow up to be.
Looking around the dinner table and watching my parents chat happily with the little boy who’d appeared in my life by chance, I had to remind myself that we weren’t George’s family. All of these moments, all of thistime together was bittersweet. Because, in my heart, it sure felt like he was mine.
The first text from Ian came through that night.
After I’d read George a chapter from his book and tucked him in, I sat down in the dark sunroom of Junior and Nola’s house to await Sophia’s return. I pulled out my phone and saw the notification.
Ian: I didn’t get to say goodbye when George took off with the phone, so I wanted to tell you goodnight. I hope that’s okay.
I told myself to be brave and to trust my instincts. I wasn’t a martyr, and there was no reason to sacrifice my happiness, especially when it was staring me in the face and texting me good night.
Me: It’s okay. You can message me whenever you want. I’m not mad at you, Ian.
He replied right away.
Ian: Okay.
Ian: But you said you wanted space, and I don’t want to crowd you.
Me: It would be nice to hear from you while you’re away.
Ian: Then I’ll text you.
