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It’s moments like this that my convictions about fatherhood are strongly tested. I feel like there’s a part of me that’ll always want a family of my own in some capacity, but I also remember my counselor’s words from when I was in college.
“If it makes you recall the worst days, stay away from it. What a lot of people don’t realize is that our thoughts often determine the outcome. But if you won’t be able to separate fact from fiction, my best advice is to not even explore it whatsoever.”
Some might argue that I bulldozed right over that advice by becoming a police officer, but the difference is that my work is like therapy to me. Are there parts of my job I wish I didn’t have to do? Yes. It always easy? No. Does it remind me of events from my past? Sometimes.
Does it fulfill me? Absolutely.
For every citizen who mouths off to me, I have someone else come up to me and thank me for my service. For the times I’ve had to walk up to someone’s front door and break the news that their loved one is gone, I remember the time an officer did that exact thing for us the night my mother died. For every domestic abuse situation I get called to, I remind myself that the victims will be able to live without looking over their shoulder because we lock their abuser up.
There are days I wonder why the hell people make some of the decisions they do, but I have never regretted my profession of choice.
The difference with my personal life, however, is that I can’t look at Jenna and the kids and not flash back to those days before my mom died and my father was arrested. I’m pretty sure Jess doesn’t remember much of the months leading up to Mom’s death, but I remember enough to know it wasn’t exactly a rosy time in our household. To this day I wonder if Dad was doing drugs before Mom died, but I don’t know if I’ll ever know the answer to that question. Just because he wasn’t caught until she was gone doesn’t mean anything, in my opinion. That said, I’m not about to contact him just to find out. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be a part of our lives. I don’t have the desire to spend my minimal free time wishing he was.
But that’s only part of the reason I refuse to get married or have children. When I first met Jen, Eli wasn’t even born yet and Ella was only two. Though it’s gotten better over the past few years, every time I hold one of them I’m reminded of the time Ididwant to get married and start a family. Just because it’s been twelve years doesn’t mean my wounds from that relationship have healed. I’ve gone on a few dates over the years, but I’ve never loved someone the way I loved Sierra.
Too bad she didn’t feel the same way, something I didn’t find out until I was so invested in our whirlwind romance I was ready to have her meet my sister and ask her to marry me with my mother’s ring. Even now the humiliation of the day she broke things off without a backward glance burns me. I thought she was it—I thought we would have a life together.
Thatis why I won’t let Jenna in. I know I could love her, and maybe a part of me already does, but I guess I’m too scared she’ll find me inadequate like Sierra did. Only this time there’d already be children involved, and I would never forgive myself if I was the second man to hurt Ella and Eli. There have been many times where I wish I could chew Pete Williams out for not being a part of his kids’ lives. How can a man seriously just walk away from his wife and kids like he did? I don’t know if I’ll ever fully comprehend how someone can do that, to be honest, and I see it happen more than I would ever wish for it to.
I can’t dwell on any of that right now, though, because none of it matters in this moment. Instead, I allow myself to rest my hand on Ella’s head and try to ignore the look my sister gives me, because at this point, that’s all I really can do.
Chapter Ten
Jenna
When I got dressed this morning, I did not pick my outfit because I know I’ll see Seth. I am not that kind of woman. At twenty-eight, I am far too secure in my fashion choices—which, to be honest, mainly consist of shorts and a T-shirt—to choose my outfit for a man.
I’m telling you this because my boss (who is one of my dearest but peskiest friends, by the way) doesn’t believe me, and I need to have a few allies. Just because I’m wearing my white calf-length sundress with buttons down the front, flowy cap sleeves, and a yellow tie ribbon around the waist doesn’t mean anything other than that I’m wearing something outside the normal everyday attire. I still have my hair up in its same old messy bun and I’m wearing a pair of flat brown sandals I got from Target four years ago. Okay, so I did add my yellow and white polka dot headband. I did. But it was because it goes perfectly with my outfit, and it keeps flyaways out of my face.Notbecause of any man, Seth Johnson included.
“I’m telling you, Jen,” Joanna says as she wipes a table off with her rag. During the spring and summer, this is a daily chore for our outdoor tables, but she insisted on me only keeping her company this morning. “If you would’ve worn those wedges I bought you last summer, this outfit would’ve been amplified tenfold. You have amazing legs, hon, but heels are a woman’s best friend. You know, dogs are man’s best friend? Well, that’s how it is with women and heels.”
I squint as I lean against one of the chairs at the table she’s cleaning. “Um, I’m not sure I can get behind that statement. I don’t wear heels because I can’t walk in them. Which is why I told you not to get them for me in the first place.”
“Jen, it doesn’tmatterif you can’t walk in them. The point is that they look cute.” Joanna finishes wiping down the table and drops the rag back in her bucket, staring at me with those green eyes of hers. “I don’t know how you don’t see that you’re gorgeous. And on top of that, you’re a mom to two amazing little kiddos. If anyone deserves to have a man like Seth, it’s you. Trust me when I say that, if not for the fact that I’m happily married and I’m older than Seth, I would snatch him up faster than you can say Jo-is-the-best. I mean, heaven forbid this happen, but if something ever happened to Ben… Don’t put it past me.”
The scary thing is that I believe her. Joanna’s thirty-six, but you’d never guess it by looking at her. She’s a natural redhead and her hair is so long it nearly reaches her waist, but she has it in twin French braids today. Because she’s several inches taller than me her body is slenderer than mine, and she has the most gorgeous green eyes framed by dark red lashes I’m a little envious of. She only wears a little bit of makeup, and her technique somehow enhances her freckles rather than covering them. Her daily outfits consist of effortlessly cute skinny jeans, a Farm to Table tee, and a pair of Birkenstocks. My favorite of her outward features are the tattoos on her right arm. I like to say she bought a bouquet and had it put on her arm to preserve forever. Though I’d never personally have that many tattoos—I do have one on my back left shoulder—Joanna rocks them. The best, and saddest, part is the angel wings the artist worked into the drawing to represent the baby Joanna and her husband Ben lost. Though they’ve been married for fourteen years, they don’t have any children. I think that’s why Joanna enjoys loving on my babies so much. It’s also why I allow her to be their “auntie” and she spoils them with ridiculous sugary snacks or toys or clothes.
“How come you can tell me to wear heels when you’re always wearing Birkenstocks?” I feel like I’m asking a valid question as I follow Joanna back into the restaurant. A cool blast of air conditioning hits my warm skin, and I have to blink to adjust to the slightly dimmer lighting. “That’s not fair.”
Joanna pauses and grins over her shoulder at me. “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. The difference is thatIam married to a gorgeous man I love and adore. You, my dearest Jenna, have a different gorgeous man you are not married to that you should be. I mean, have you seen him in his uniform?”
We both know the answer to that question, but I’m not going to comment on it. Mainly because I can already feel the heat building in my cheeks. “You sound like a seventy-year-old woman.”
“I’m just sayin’. Give me one good reason you should not marry Chief Johnson.”
For once in my life, I manage to keep a straight face. “He hasn’t asked.”
Joanna, much to my dismay, doesn’t even get fazed. “Would you say yes if he did?”
“No.”
“Then I need another reason.” She sets her cleaning bucket on the counter and starts wiping it down. “Because I don’t see how you can’t be attracted to him. He’s kind, strong, hot, kind—did I mention that he’s hot? Oh, and he very obviously adores your kids. That’s kind of a big deal.”
“He’s not interested in me, Jo.” I’m a generally honest person, so I refrain from sayingand I’m not interested in him eitherbecause I don’t know how true that is. I plop onto one of the white upholstered leather stools lining the bar, then readjust when my dress doesn’t lay right.
“You can tell yourself that, but you’re wrong.” Uh-oh. That tone of voice means we just shifted into the Mama Jo Lane, and I ought to buckle up because all I can do is go along for the ride. “You can deny it and Seth can deny it, but the man who came to me three years ago and asked me to give you a job where you could be home on weekends and evenings with your babies is a man who loves a woman. Denial isn’t a fact of truth; it’s a fiction we hide behind.”
Leave it to Jo to turn this into a freaking motivational speech. I’m about to open my mouth to tell her she should take her show on the road with Tony Robbins or someone of the like when the bell over the front door jingles. Technically we’re not open for the day yet, but Jo heard we were going to meet with Wynn and Marshall, and she offered up the restaurant. Farm to Table is open for breakfast every morning except Tuesday, hence the reason we picked today.
