Page 73 of Learning at 40

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[River]

I walked into the house, leaving the door open for Zack to follow. It’s only a house, I want to say, but it’s so much more to him. The child inside him feels abandoned by the rugged man who’d stood in my yard this afternoon, and watched a fence be torn out. While his face was hard, his expression was kind, resolved even to the damage he’d done. I wasn’t afraid of his presence or even demanding he leave. I let him stand there, watching the men work. He didn’t say much. He didn’t ask about the house or Zack or the boys. He just watched. I allowed him his memories, even if Zack said he shouldn’t have them.

In the kitchen, I round the peninsula cabinet and set the wineglasses from Anna’s visit within the basin. Turning to the side, I watch Zack walk inside, slide the glass door behind him, and lock it. Then he pauses and looks around. The cabinets are dated. They might have been the original set from his childhood. Hardwood floors throughout the place show wear and tear from the years this home was a rental property. I personally tossed most of the rugs when I inherited the place. The kitchen dining set is definitely old, bulky, and too large for the space.

Zack doesn’t linger long in his inspection. His eyes quickly find me, and he lasers in on my position. Rounding the cabinets himself, he stands before me. With his gaze focused on me, he slowly folds to his knees before me and wraps his arms around my waist. His head meets my belly, and he squeezes me tight.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said, for what I did.”

Hesitating only a second, I seek his hair and tenderly comb through the strands.

“You hurt me,” I admit.

“I know. I don’t know what came over me. I’d seen my dad. Then I heard those women, and I just reacted. You aren’t my father. You aren’t Jeanine. You aren’t like any other woman I’ve known.”

“Jeanine?” I question.

“She was all about the buck, the bottom line, and wanting more.” His voice quiets. “She was so much like my father, and I didn’t see it because she was smart and successful in her own right.”

I continue stroking through his hair, waiting on more from him.

“I overreacted.”

Scoffing at the comment, he tilts his head and gazes up at me.

“Zack, you have no boundaries.” I’ve used the word too many times to describe his actions. He doesn’t hold back, taking what he wants, going where he pleases. If he isn’t careful with this trait, he could cross a line.

“I’d like to learn. I’d like to . . . compromise.”

My lip curls only a touch in the corner. “What does that even mean to you?”

“Don’t leave me. I don’t want to lose you.” That vulnerable tone returns, and it’d break my heart if I wasn’t already a little broken by him.

Sighing, I stare down at him. “You’d have to trust me, and I don’t think you do.”

“I don’t trust myself.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid to love because people get hurt. People do stupid things to prove themselves.”

“Zack,” I whisper, accepting that he must see his mother as loving his father too much and his father trying to please her, justifying his choice to gamble.

“I’m so grateful for how you are with the boys and how good we are together.” He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to dive into the lake. “Ben’s letter to me told me to fly in love, and I didn’t know what he meant. I thought he must have miswritten his intention, but now I understand. When I’m with you, I’m soaring. It’s a high I’ve never felt before. It’s freeing and scary, but, River, I love it. I love you, angel.”

I don’t know what to say. My heart still aches, but sincerity rings through his apology confirmed by those pleading silvery eyes.

“Where are the boys?” I wonder.

“I left them with the new nanny. I wanted to bring them, but it was too soon. My decision was so quick.” He pauses a beat. “My father was here.”

The heaviness in the statement says it all. The concern in his eyes says even more as he clings to me on his knees. I continue stroking through his hair.

“He didn’t mean any harm. It was all innocent,” I say, instantly realizing my mistake in word choice.

“He wasn’t innocent of anything,” Zack snaps, slowly releasing me and rising to his feet but still crowding my space.

“Poor choice of words. I mean, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t really say anything either. He just stood there, watching the men work, watching them remove the fence.”

Zack swipes a hand through his hair, eyes shifting to the side. “He shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have even been breathing the same air as you.”