Page 80 of Learning at 40

“Hello to you, too, beautiful,” I tease. “I’m actually not renovating your house. Mason is.”

“Mr. Weller, this is too much.” Her calling me the formal name recalls our first meeting, but it also reminds me she called my father that name this weekend. I bite back any retort as I don’t want to discuss my father again. She’s made her points. I listened to both her and him. I want to move onward.

“I want to do this for you.” Even without her present, I know she can see me.

“You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

I chuckle. I don’t know what my pouting expression looks like, but she always tells me I’m too cute when I do. I wish she could see me, so she’d fall for my charm and just give in to this already. Instead, she stays quiet, almost too quiet for her.

“Zack, you don’t owe me anything.” My mouth falls open, and a sharp sound rushes forward, but River continues before I can speak. “Not an apology, gratitude, or a bottle of wine. I don’t need you to fix my house.”

I know this. She doesn’t need me. She’s one of the most independent, capable women I know, but still . . . “I want to do this for you. I want to give you everything.” Suddenly, I realize I sound just like my father. He’d said the same thing. He wanted to make certain my mother never regretted picking him. I scrub my forehead, hating the comparison. My father and I are nothing alike. He abandoned the family he wanted to do everything for. He left behind the wife he wanted to give all the things.

“I don’t need everything, though, honey. Time with you is all I want. Time with the boys, too.”

“Just let Mason give you a quote,” I fire back before her words hit me.

“No.” The word is so final. “I realize it’s probably something you don’t hear much in your adult life, but no.”

“Why not?” Doesn’t she know how much I love her?

“Because I don’t like to get my hopes up for things I haven’t earned. I don’t need this kind of gift.” Her voice turns a bit colder, and I don’t understand. She’d taken a sizable gift from Quincy. I want to do one better.

“Negotiate,” I softly demand, scrubbing harder at my forehead.

“This is where you compromise, Zack. You honor my wishes, respect my property, and listen to me. You do as I ask. No, on a quote.”

Why is she so frustrating? I just want to give her nice things, and all she wants is time.

Then it hits me. I’m still such an idiot.

+ + +

Two days later, the boys are in a mood.

“Why can’t we just live with River?” Oliver whines.

“Because she isn’t a mom, you dummy,” Trevor grumbles back.

“Hey,” I snap.

“But the tree fort is there,” Oliver pouts. “I want to go in the tree fort.”

I sigh. It’s been a long day, and with River working the night shift while I’ve been at work all day, we can’t talk until late. The hours are too far away, and so is she.

It isn’t like the boys and I haven’t been on our own since last August when I confronted Jeanine, and she immediately moved out. Then I started the venture with the guys late in the fall, hoping to have everything settled before Ben died—as morbid as that thought was. My divorce was final in March, and it’s been one battle after another with Jeanine and her cancellations. Plus, there’s the regular attorney work at the partnership, and suddenly, I’m recalling what my dad said about a slower pace and less hustle.

He’d thrived on the busyness, and in many ways, I did, too. It kept me going, moving forward, but I realize I might be missing a few things going at this speed. Seven years have gone by in both a painfully slow gaze and a sharp blink of the eye. My boys are growing, changing, and I still don’t know them well enough. I don’t want them waking up thirty years from now and never knowing me. I’d be no better than my father if that happened.

“Guys, I want to ask you something.” I’m nervous, and I don’t know why. They’re just kids, but they’re my kids, and I need to do right by them with the next decision I make. They’d been at the forefront of my marriage to Jeanine, but I don’t want to take any other turns in life without their input.

I point at the couch, so the boys sit side by side before I take a seat on the low table before it. We’ve never had a formal father-son, man-to-boys chat like this, and I wipe my hands down my thighs.

“What would you think if I asked River to marry me?” I realize this is the one area I’m working fast—again. As soon as Jeanine told me she was pregnant and didn’t want our babies because it would ruin her reputation as a woman on the fast track, I offered to marry her. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I immediately wanted to be there for my future children. I didn’t want them to think I’d abandoned them.

River was different. This was different. I was in love with her, but I didn’t need to go into all those details with my boys.

“She’s not a mom,” Trevor states again. “Dads marry moms.”