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makes the sign of the cross.
“How about I just go for an hour?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. If you need longer, please take longer. I just want to spend time with my grandson.”
I opt to feed him before heading out. It gives me the peace of mind I need, plus chatting with Mrs. Sadler keeps me entertained.
“Please, call me Liz.”
“Okay, Liz,” I hesitate, not sure why. “So, Haden tells me he has twin sisters. That must have been a handful.”
She continues to knit what appear to be booties, all the while managing to still hold a conversation. “The girls weren’t as much of a handful as Haden was. He was and still is strong-headed. Takes after his dad.”
“You’re telling me. I’ve met mules less stubborn than him.”
“He’s a good boy, it’s just . . .” she trails off for a moment before continuing. “His father’s death was hard on all of us, but it was Haden who took it the hardest.”
“Of course,” I mumble, “Boys need their dads.”
Looking down at Masen’s angelic face, I can’t imagine bestowing any pain on him. If I had my way, I would wrap him up in bubble wrap and protect him forever.
“Liz, I don’t know how you do it. The thought of my son going through any pain kills me.”
“Over time, you learn to let go, but only slightly. Haden shuts down and doesn’t allow anyone in. For a couple of years, I was a wreck, worried for his life. He was erratic and had no regard for his wellbeing. David kept telling me that he needed to grieve in his own way, as well as grow up. He was young when the accident occurred.”
My heart broke for Haden. It was too much for him to experience at such a young age, and so unfair that he was dealt that card. I loved my dad so much and couldn’t even begin to understand the grief of losing a parent.
“You know, Presley, you’ve done wonders for my son.”
“For Haden? You must be mistaken. It’s not like that between us,” I stammer nervously.
She places her knitting needles on her lap. When she smiles, she looks exactly like Haden.
“Liz, the both of us had a lot of growing to do to be able to co-parent Masen, and even then, it’s only been four weeks.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t see what I do. My son adores you.”
With my eyes fixated on Masen, I speak solemnly. “He’s marrying Eloise. Things between us are far too complicated. Whatever happens, happens.”
“You know,” she adds, “one thing I’ve learned about Haden is that he will never listen to anyone. Every decision he makes, he feels he has to own it, whether it be good or bad. Just be patient, Presley. Let him do what he needs to do, but in the end, I have faith that he will make the right decision.”
The decision he made to marry Eloise still baffles me. But just like Liz said, he owns his decisions, good or bad. When he was in London we were practically strangers—if you ignore our midnight rendezvous. I didn’t know where his head was at or what his intentions were. Now, he seems completely different. He’s been matured by the birth of his son, and deep down inside I know he is a good man. Everything Liz said he was.
Our conversation leaves me with a lot to think about, so with a settled Masen, I grab my purse and kiss him goodbye. The second the door closes behind me, I burst into tears, overwhelmed by leaving him behind.
There were so many moments over the past four weeks when I just wanted a break, and now that I’ve finally got some time alone, I’m a blubbering mess. All I want to do is open that door, pull on my sweats, and never leave him again.
Reality check. I have to do this eventually, so I make my way out of the apartment and promise myself I’ll be back in exactly an hour.
It turns out that I enjoy my freedom way more than I should. I stop at a local café and devour a meal in peace and quiet, followed by a trip to the salon. In the space of two hours, my regular stylist, Chantelle, works magic on my hair and eyebrows. She even manages to get Kitty back to normal. By the time she’s finished, I feel like my old self again. My hair is trimmed, and because I’m in the mood for something different, she dyes it a honey-brown color. My body is hair-free and I can’t believe how such a simple thing could lift my spirits so much.
As Chantelle wraps up, I quickly grab my cell and send Haden a text.
Me: Thank you for sending your mommy over. I’m feeling much better and nicely trimmed.
The chime of my cell goes off before I even have a chance to place it back in my purse.
#Jerk: Poodle got a trim? Dare I ask where?
