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“Good. That’s good.” I pause. “Where’ve you been staying?”
“With Logan.”
“In the city?”
He nods. After a long, taut silence, he clears his throat and asks, “Have you heard from Nat?”
My chest tightens. I shake my head no. “Have you?”
“Not a peep.” He seems genuinely hurt by this, and I know exactly how he feels.
Oliver sucks in a breath and takes a step toward his car. Panic surges through me. This can’t be the last time I see my son. I have to do something.
“Wait, Oliver.” I approach him slowly, like the wounded animal he is, and rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“You’re not sorry that it happened?”
“No,” I realize. “I’m not. I regret how you found out, but I don’t regret a moment of the time I got to spend with Natasha. I’m sorry if that hurts you.”
Oliver rubs the backs of his eyelids. I press on, not willing to let him go until I’ve laid my cards on the table.
“I love her,” I tell him. “I’min lovewith her.”
His features twist with emotion.
“I love her too,” he admits. “I miss her so much.”
“I miss her, too. I miss both of you.”
Oliver’s eyes, the same shade as mine, turn cold as he narrows them. “You should never have put her in a position where she felt like shehadto lie to me.”
“I know.”
“You were herdoctorfor God’s sake.”
“Believe me, I know how fucked-up it is. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about her.” I swallow thickly. “Tell me what to do, Oliver. Tell me what to do to fix this.”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” He sniffles. “Nat was always better at this kind of stuff. I bet she’d know exactly what to say right now.”
“I’m sure she would.” I can see Natasha’s determined stare as clearly as if she were here with us. I can’t help but chuckle. “She’d have us breaking bread again in no time.”
We stand in silence for a long moment, listening to the gentle lapping of the lake. I glance over at my son, searching his profile for traces of the little boy who used to squeal with joy every time I picked him up from kindergarten. He’s become a mystery to me, and it breaks my fucking heart to think that I’ve destroyed my chance at getting to know the man he’s still growing into.
But I won’t give up on us. No matter how many times he slams the door in my face.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him. “We’ve still got steaks in the freezer. I could throw a couple on the grill along with some ears of corn.”
Oliver hesitates, shifting his duffel bag to the other shoulder. I’m prepared for him to say no, but to my surprise, he shrugs one shoulder.
“Fine,” he says. “On one condition. You let me start up the grill.”
“You remember how?”
“Not really. But that’s what the internet is for.”
I roll up my sleeves with a chuckle.
“Well, I’m here if you need a refresher.”
