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"Can you...cover up?" I ask him.
"Oh," he clears his throat as he reaches for the covers. "I didn't..."
"It's OK," I wave off. "There's a park about ten minutes from here. I thought we could take Brianna."
"We're not going to talk about me ambushing you for sex last night?" Steve circles back.
"I'd rather not," I scrunch my nose.
"So, we can chalk it up to a terrible lapse in judgment?"
"Yes," I answer him.
"Before you head back upstairs," Steve sits up, "can we talk for a second?"
I blow out a tired breath. He's been asking to talk since he arrived. I should have listened the first time he asked. I shouldn't have pushed him aside. I should have made time for him.
"What's up, Steve?"
"You don't want me to move here, do you?"
I roll my head back and forth on my shoulders while I think. I think about what that might look like. Brianna would have both parents close by. She wouldn't have to split holidays in different states. She'd have everything she needed right here.
But Steve would be here. He'd be in my space—in my orbit. He'd be around for everything.
Even if it's too much, I need to do what's best for my daughter.
"If you want to move here, I am OK with that."
"Are you sure?" Steve presses. "Because I get the impression you don't want anything to do with me."
"It's not that I..." I trail off, trying to figure out how to say what I need to without upsetting or offending him. "Our marriage is over, and it was off-putting when you sent flowers and a singing telegram to my office."
"I can see now," Steve clicks his tongue, "why that was not the best idea."
"If you move here, that doesn't mean we're getting back together," I make clear. "We're family, Steve, but I don't want to be with you. And to be fair, I don't think I made you happy. I wanted to, but you never seemed happy."
"I know," he runs his hand through his hair. "Trust me, I know."
"OK."
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
"I haven't really been myself the past few weeks," I admit.
"Why not, Iz?"
I wrap my arms around myself. "When my birth mom died, I felt like I aged right there and then. I wasn't a little girl anymore. I didn't have little girl problems. I was suddenly old and wise. I'd been through something horrible, and my innocence—whatever was left of it—was ripped from my hands. Then, the Thompsons adopted me, and I had a family again. But I remember my old family. I remember my mom. I even remember my dad before he was in jail—or wherever he ran off to. It was hard adjusting to something new. So, I've put up walls and kept myself separate."
"You don't have to do that anymore," Steve shakes his head.
I nod. "Once you lose people, you never forget how it feels. I live in constant fear that something tragic might happen and it will mean the end of everything. So, when I came home and started working, there was this freedom I haven't felt in...well,ever." There's a beat before I add, "I am very sorry for ignoring you while you've been here. I wasn't ready to deal with whatever was going on with us."
"I came on a little strong," Steve gives me a small smile. "I'm sorry."
"Do you think you'd be OK with us just being friends?" I ask him.
"If that's what you want," he chews on the inside of his cheek, "then I will do everything I can to be the best fucking friend you've ever had."
