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Emily shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but her eyes are a little bit sad.
“I’m just always surprised when people bring up my mom and my sister, you know?” she tells me. “I mean, yeah, I grew up with them and they were a huge part of my life, but I’m a different person than they are. My life is so far removed from them that the idea of someone relating them to me feels…wrong.”
I nod. “I’m sure. Especially after you did all that work in therapy to sort through everything. It must feel like a kick in the face to have someone lump you in with them so quickly.”
Her lips tilt up and she looks at me. “That’s exactly what it feels like. Thank you.”
We lapse into silence, both of us just rocking slowly, Teddy breathing softly against Emily, listening to the ocean breeze and the distant sound of the crashing waves.
“I have an appointment next week,” I say, feeling like now is as good a time as any. “With a therapist.”
Emily’s smile turns wide at my statement. “Really?” I nod. “God, Colton, I’m so proud of you. Are you nervous?”
I chuckle. “A bit. I don’t really know what to expect. The only time I’ve gone to therapy was a marriage therapist, and this guy focuses on trauma, which feels weird to say out loud.”
“Why does it feel weird?”
“I don’t know. I called up my insurance earlier this week and they had this person who was screening the calls, deciding how best to help you, and when I explained my problems—the anger, the betrayal, the huge emotions—she mentioned a trauma therapist. I immediately said no. In my head, those are people who help with PTSD, you know? Important things, not…me.”
I shake my head.
“But she said what I said I’d been through sounded awfully traumatic to her, so I just said okay. She booked me in with someone for this week. Thursday.”
“It’s going to be great,” she tells me, her voice soothing, her eyes encouraging. “It’s going to be work,” she adds, laughing softly, “but it’s going to be great. And you are going to be a much better father for Teddy because of it.”
I look at my son, reminded of the elephant in the room.
“If I’m Teddy’s father at all,” I whisper, my throat feeling tight and scratchy again.
Emily’s hand comes out and she takes mine, giving it a firm squeeze until I’m looking her in the eye again.
“It doesn’t matter what that DNA test says,” she whispers, her expression fierce as she clings to me. “You will always be Teddy’s father. Always.”
I lick my lips, feeling that familiar overwhelm again, and then I twist my hand so my fingers interlock with hers.
In the midst of this incredible pain, this absolutely insurmountable agony, the greatest fear I’ve ever known, Emily has been such a constant. A never-ending source of calm and wisdom and, dare I say it, love.
Part of me knows it’s a mistake, to fall in this deep with someone who has made it clear she isn’t looking for someone to save her. I know I’m risking the pieces of my heart that I’m just starting to get back, the heart I’m just now starting to repair.
But at the same time, it feels worth it.
Emily feels like the best choice I could ever make, and if that means I’m risking my heart again, so be it.
***
Teddy and I spend Sunday with my parents before they leave on a red-eye back to the east coast. It’s a beautiful day, and we spend it lazing around their resort’s pool, each of them spending quality time with Teddy.
As supportive as they both are of me getting out ahead of the DNA results, I think the gravity of the situation has finally hit them, and they’re desperate to get in some time with their only grandson before they, God forbid, find out he’s not their grandson anymore.
Though, I guess, if I go by Emily’s logic, they will always be his grandparents. They will always love him, always see him as family.
When I get home that night, Emily is quiet as we have dinner together, and I can tell something important is on her mind, so I make sure to go to her once I’ve put Teddy down.
She smiles when she sees me, but there’s something sad in her eyes. Something that makes me worried for what’s on her mind.
I take a seat next to Emily where she’s seated in the corner, a bunch of her textbooks spread out around her and her laptop open to what looks like a very complicated spreadsheet.
“Business forecasting,” she tells me. “It’s all about turning numbers into decisions.”
