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Jack’s right. I need to get on with the future. Move forward. I can’t be the cocky bastard that used to think he had everything and more. A bright career, two amazing kids, and a beautiful wife. I once thought nothing could bring me down. Until my world came crumbling down around me, and I thought I lost everything.
But I didn’t. There was loss in that equation, yes. But I still have so much. It just took me way too fucking long to realize it.
Part of me knows I have Jack to thank for my wake-up call. But a bigger part of me knows Faith had a role in it as well.
Faith.
I’ll take it one step at a time with her. She’s staying with us for the time being, which mean I have time to make her see that this could work. I’m not foolish enough to think that forever is a sure thing with us. Hell, nothing’s forever. But it’s really fucking hard to think I don’t have a chance of forever with Faith when I can still smell her scent on my skin, embedded into me like a tattoo that not even the most scalding water could erase.
I may have owned her last night, but be damned if that woman doesn’t own me just as much right now.
Chapter Eighteen
Faith
I’m out of my league. The house is beautiful, and taking Darcy to school has been a breeze once I figured out how to get there. Wendy and Ken, Tristan’s parents, have come around a few times, too. They both wanted to make sure I don’t have any issues settling the kids in.
In the beginning, it was a bit overwhelming, as they’d show up daily—morning, noon, and night. I think Tristan might’ve had a word with them, though, because they haven’t been around for the last couple of days. It hasn’t stopped them from calling, but I’d never begrudge them that. They don’t know me, and I can’t blame them for wanting to make sure their grandchildren are well cared for.
Maria comes in daily, too. She’s the housekeeper, and seems to rule with an iron fist, so she manages to keep everything in order, even if I feel things are on the verge of falling apart. The kids like her, and as soon as they see her come through the door, they erupt into a wild frenzy of greetings and hugs. Maria always greets me the same way, however, saying, “You’re too skinny. I’ll see to that!” It makes me smile every time, and be damned if I can resist her gourmet cooking when she offers it. The woman’s a dream in the kitchen.
I have the use of a car, which was supposed to be for Isobel. It’s a small Civic, and knowing that it isn’t one of Tristan’s cars makes me feel more comfortable behind the wheel.
I’ve even met up with Sandy a couple of times, too. We’ve taken the kids to the park and had a coffee. But, we have little in common, and most of the time we just end up talking about the kids.
I never realized how seriously impaired my social skills were, until now. I talk to the customers that come to our concession stand, I take their order, and I serve them politely. The same goes for my time spent working at the hardware store. But that’s about it.
After Mom died, I lived my life in a shell, cut off from the world by my own accord. I don’t have anything in common with my friends, and most of them are in college now.
Pushing myself into this situation with Tristan’s kids is the most interaction I’ve had with anyone in a long time. Coming here has worked out better for me in more ways than one. I feel as if I’m finally living, rather than just existing. I do things now, and don’t just go through the motions. I’ve even toyed with the idea of going to a local rink, to practice my skating techniques, but I wanted to settle in first. I’m working my way towards it. Tristan says practice makes perfect, so I’ll focus on that more in the meantime while he’s away.
Everything’s pretty simple, and I’ve managed to find a routine while spending my days taking care of his kids. But the nights are a different story—that’s when Tristan invades my mind the most. It’s hard enough that I’m counting down the days until the team plays on home ice and he can come home.
I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, and I rarely even think about my own home in Boston. Which isn’t difficult since Dad hasn’t even bothered to call me since Tristan transferred the money into the account.
Not even a simple thank you.
I’d like to think I deserve at least a little gratitude for thinking outside the box and coming here in the first place. If I didn’t, what would he have done? Pretend like everything was okay and then, one day, when I’m on my way home, just tell me to meet him at a different address? I hate the way things have turned out, but he has no right to take it out on me. Or put it all on me to fix. No right at all.
I sigh, glancing at my phone and wondering if I should send Tristan a quick message. He keeps me up to date with his games, which the kids and I watch on the TV, anyway. The kids insist on staying up and watching their dad play, and I won’t deny them that luxury—hell, I love watching them more than the actual game. They get so damn excited. And when I ask them both what they want to be when they grow up, the pair of them don’t hesitate in telling me that they want to be hockey players, too. Just like their daddy. It warms my heart every time I hear it.
He usually calls them at night when he can, if he’s not playing or flying somewhere. But tonight, he takes me by surprise as I see a message from him.
Tristan: Are the kids asleep?
I reply back straight away.
Me: It’s way past their bedtime. What do you think?
I wonder if he’s tricking me. Does he want to know if the kids are awake because he still doubts whether I can handle my job or not?
As I wait for his reply, I strip out of my clothes, ready to put on my PJs. That’s when I get an answer from him.
Tristan: I want to see you. Go into the study and turn on Skype. I want to talk to you.
I realize that he’s asking if the kids are sleeping for another reason. He doesn’t want to check up on me. He wants to talk, something that we haven’t really done since he’s been away. I take a deep breath and reply back.
Me: Sure, just give me a minute. I was putting on my PJs.
