Page 34 of Learning at 40

“Really? Is it too late to fall in love? You’re only . . . forty, if that.”

“I’m forty-one now.”

“Thirty-eight,” I say, pointing at myself. “And I’m not a mom.” I tip an eyebrow to suggest I’m jesting. The statement reminds us both of what I had to explain to the boys yesterday. “But I’m still holding out hope for one day.” I refuse to believe I’ll never find love or have children of my own. It’s just taking me longer than the average person.

“I’m sorry about what Oliver said. He shouldn’t have said that.”

“He shouldn’t have told me I should be a mom?” I ask to clarify.

“It was rude.”

I huff. “I’m flattered that he thinks I’d do a decent job of it.” I am honored. Not everyone is worthy of the title mother, and I’m thrilled Oliver sees the potential in me to be one.

“And then Trevor asking you to be his mom.” Zack closes his eyes and swipes a hand through his hair. “It nearly broke my heart.”

I bump his shoulder. “Well, I’m flattered again that I could be his, according to him. I’m sorry about their mother, though. I don’t understand. Does she not see them?” It’s invasive to ask, but I’m invested in these boys. I want to know about them.

“She has supervised visitation.”

“Supervised? That sounds extreme.” My first thought is she physically hurt them. As a trained mandate reporter, I’m grateful I’ve never had to suspect parents of abusing their child. The bruises I see on a kid come from blood draws and repeated punctures from needles, ports, and tubes.

“I didn’t trust her not to use them against me. I had a great divorce attorney who knew how to negotiate. I wasn’t willing to compromise when it came to them.”

His protective tone is surprising but welcome. He’d fight to the end for his boys, and I’m happy to hear it in his voice. I glance over at the boys. Oliver has returned to the fort and holds the telescope while Trevor swipes the plastic sword at something imaginary within the fort.

“What did she do to them?” I whisper.

“She didn’t love them. I have no forgiveness for that.” His voice turns colder, edged in ice, and I twist my neck to look at him. The Zack of our first meeting has returned. His jaw clenches, and his expression hardens. His eyes crackle instead of sparkle.

“And you do?” A lump forms in my throat, and I find myself holding my breath for his answer.

“Of course, I do.” He nods in confidence without looking at me. “They might be hellions, but they’re my hellions. As their father, I will not abandon them.” His tenacious tone should be a comfort, but there’s something laced beneath the sound that raises the hairs on my neck.

“Do they know you love them?”

“I . . .” He can’t answer, and the thought makes me sad.

What did your father do to you? It’s the only explanation I have for the questioning glare and tight jaw. Was his father as standoffish as he is? Or did his father abandon him like his wife did their boys? I turn back toward the boys, and we watch them in silence for a minute.

“I didn’t know my own father.” I shrug, opening up to this man I hardly know. “I’m not bitter about it. Can’t miss what you didn’t have, but I had the best grandfather. He was all the dad figure I needed.” I wasn’t bitter about my own absent father. My grandfather meant the world to me. He wasn’t a substitute but the real deal as far as I was concerned. My only regret is he passed too soon. I could use his sage advice and encouraging quips from time to time as I age. He’d have a lot to say about Zack Weller and his sons.

“I’m sorry.” Zack turns to me, his eyes roaming my face.

“Don’t be.” I weakly smile. “Grandpa always said a man is only worthy of what he can give, not receive. My dad didn’t want me. Grandpa considered him unworthy to be my father, so he filled the position instead.”

Zack continues to stare at me. “He sounds like a wise man.” His slow-growing grin does funny things to my insides, and I realize my grandfather would have wanted to hug Zack and slap him on the back of the head in equal portions. He would have told him in no uncertain terms to get his shit together. Those boys need you. I can hear the declaration in Grandfather’s voice. He was such a feisty man, and I loved the stuffing out of him.

“Unfortunately, he passed when I was a teenager.” I glance over at the boys, feeling Zack’s eyes still on the side of my face. “Cancer.” One word explains it all.

“That’s why you’re a nurse.”

“That’s why I’m a nurse,” I confirm, turning back to him.

“What about other family?” He swallows around the question, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob.

“My mother was a single parent for most of my younger life. Then she met Cecil when I was a teenager. They married right after I left for college. They live in Florida, and I see them once a year.” Cecil is a decent man, but we didn’t exactly mesh. He wasn’t a father figure but more of the man in my mother’s life. I don’t resent him because my mother deserves happiness. She found love later in life. I only hope it will happen for me one day.

Mom had been distrustful of people. She’d been hurt by my father, a man I never met. On the other hand, I was trusting up front and learned my lesson later. I wanted to have faith in people. A kind heart lives longer, Grandpa said. Beats better. He’d tap two fingers over his chest and pat them in a rhythm to mimic a strong heartbeat. When he died, I disagreed for a while. It seemed only the good died young and left us too soon, but later, I understood. Those who are kind live on in our hearts. We never forget a good deed.