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“As a reward—an incentive—to continue working like that, maybe we use another day’s time at the house to go bowling instead. If there weren’t any attitudes between the kids for a couple hours, perhaps they get ice cream as a treat.” He gestures to his notes. “Obviously we’d have to figure out how to decide when they’ve earned their reward, but I think we’ll know. And if you have any ideas, please tell me. I just think it could be helpful for themandfor us.”
I bite my lip. “But what if they just put on their best behavior to earn the rewards?”
“A person can only pretend for so long, Jen.” Though I know he’s talking about the teens, I can’t help but notice the way his voice dips slightly, the way his eyes travel the map of my face. “We’ll know when it’s real and when it’s a pretense. We always do.”
Um… Are we still talking about the teens? Because I thought we were, but now I’m not so sure. If the way Seth’s holding my gaze, his face somehow blank in expression but also full of something like…sadness makes me second guess things. Whatever Seth’s history is, the parts I don’t know, they clearly scarred him more than anyone realizes. I want nothing more than to tell him he can talk to me, but that’s not fair. How can I expect him to be completely honest and open with me when I’m not that way with him?
“I, uh…” He clenches his jaw. Did I mention during my earlier study that he’s clean-shaven tonight? No? Well, he is, which means every single muscle in his square jaw is visible as it tightens. “Are these love songs?”
The abrupt change of topics has me scrambling to figure out what he’s even talking about. Love songs? I don’t—Oh.
“Oh. Yeah.” I release a self-conscious laugh as I instinctively reach for my phone, all too aware of Seth’s eyes following my every move. “I kind of, well, I made this playlist of different love songs after our, um, divorce. I thought they’d be a reminder of the kind of love I deserve…of the love I want.”
My voice catches at the end of my sentence, and I refuse to look at Seth. Admitting that to someone feels so silly. I honestly don’t know why I played this playlist, other than that there are some songs on here that have pulled me through times when I felt like I didn’t deserve to have the love I wanted with Pete. And I’m still not sure I fully do feel like I deserve it, but these songs never fail to prove that great love stories do exist. Even if only in songs or novels or movies. Someone penned every single one of them, which means real-life experiences inspired the words, the scenery, the dreams.
“You do deserve a love story like these songs, Jen.” His words, laced with emotion I’ve never heard in Seth’s voice before, surprise me. “Of anyone I know, you deserve the world.”
“So do you.” I didn’t mean to say that, as evidenced by my whispered tone, but I mean it regardless.
Seth scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“What, you think you don’t?”
“Jen, I don’t—” He freezes midsentence, his whole body going rigid as he stares at my phone, which just shifted from one song to another.
“Seth? Are you okay?”
His blue eyes collide with mine, the emotional force blunter than a freight train. “Please turn it off.”
“Wha—”
“Please. Turn itoff.” His voice is suddenly taut with anger he’s never used around me, and he pushes back from the table, rising from his chair so quickly it nearly topples backwards. He steadies it with a hand that’s clearly shaking before hurriedly gathering his notes. “I’m sorry—I should go. It’s late, and I know you have to work tomorrow, so I should go.”
“Seth, what’s going on?” I pauseI Will Always Love Youby Whitney Houston, then place my hand over Seth’s without thinking it through. He flinches, sucks in a sharp breath, and pulls his hand from under mine.Oh.I try not to let the sting of that single action affect me as he turns and strides towards my front door, but my chin quivers all the same. And yet, because I cannot stand leaving things like this, I find every cell of strength in my body to say, “Seth,stop.”
He does, with his back turned to me, and I watch as he raises a fist to his mouth, something like a muffled cry shaking his broad shoulders. But just as quickly as the emotion slipped through, his hand is back by his side, still fisted, and he has his shoulders locked.
It’s so quiet that I hear my bare feet echoing on the hardwood floor as I cross to him and place my hand on his strong shoulder from behind, not surprised by his muscles tensing under my palm. He doesn’t move, nor does he speak. We just stand there, connected physically, but emotionally he’s miles away, both of us enveloped in the silence of my house.
“You don’t have to run forever.” My whispered words cut through the quiet almost as efficiently as a knife through flesh. “You know that, right? I don’t know what that song triggered for you, but I do know that whatever it is, you can stop running. It’s okay to be still.”
Seth clenches his jaw and his eyes close, but he still doesn’t look at me. “Maybe I’m not running.” His voice cracks. “Maybe I’m hiding.”
Oh, Seth.If it’s possible to feel a heart fracturing but not die from it, that’s what is happening to me right now. And yet, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to say to this man in the face of his revelation. I’m not a poet or some eloquent writer who can channel emotions into my words and give them an emotional punch when I speak. I’m a single mother of two kids, I work at a restaurant, and my life is far from exciting.
But what convicts me the most is that I’m hiding too.
“I need to go,” he says, his words rough. “Can you please understand that for me?”
“No.” I can’t. I won’t. “But I’m not going to stop you, because I can’t.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move and neither do I. There’s a small part of me that thinks—no, hopes, he will stay and talk to me. I can’t explain where the desire to be confided in comes from, but I know it’s there. And though I feel Seth pull away farther emotionally before he steps away from my touch, I think I might never lose hope.
The hope that, someday, Seth will trust me.
“Good night, Seth,” I murmur as he grasps the doorknob.
He glances over his shoulder and gives me a long look I can’t quite decipher, his jaw tight even as his lips quiver, and then he leaves, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
