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“Jonathan,” Milo says, scowling at his son. “What the hell is your problem?”
He shakes his head, shifting his gaze to the television. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Then why don’t you go to sleep?” I say, not to be bitchy, but because… I mean, if you’re fucking tired, then go to bed instead of crashing our night. It’s so easy.
I feel him wanting to be mean to me as he slides me a narrowed, sideways look, but he holds back, probably on account of my overall delicacy.
He totally killed the vibe, though.
Milo gently pushes me off his lap and sits up. He still pulls me back against him and holds me while we watch the end of the movie, but it’s far less enjoyable with the grumpy Granville sitting there sulking for no apparent reason.
When the movie ends, I go to the kitchen for a cold bottle of water and Milo follows. He seems eager to go to bed. I figure it’s because Jonathan is in a mood and I’ve had a good day, so he doesn’t want anything to derail it.
I appreciate that, but as I glance back at Jonathan sitting alone on the couch, I feel a guilty pull in that direction.
I look up at Milo uncertainly, fiddling with the label on my cold water bottle. “Can I meet you upstairs in a couple of minutes?”
Milo stares at me for a moment, uncomprehending. “Why?”
I glance in the living room.
Milo’s eyes widen slightly as he follows it. “Oh.”
A week ago, I wouldn’t have felt weird hanging back to talk to his son, but obviously, I feel a lot weirder about it now. “If it’s okay with you.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I just feel like he was there for me when I was having a bad time, so I should return the favor.”
He nods, but he’s frowning. “I don’t have a good argument against that.”
I crack a smile. “You don’t need one. If it makes you uncomfortable, just tell me.”
“His bad mood isn’t your responsibility, Kennedy, and your state of mind has been so fragile lately. I know he has stepped it up for you since everything happened. He has, and I give him credit for that, but that is not his usual disposition. I don’t even know why he’s in a shitty mood. What if it has something to do with you? You don’t need that on your plate. It just seems like a bad idea.”
I frown. “Why would his bad mood have anything to do with me?”
“I’m sure it doesn’t, but I’d rather not risk it. Bad nights happen. He’ll survive.”
I look back in the living room. The TV is still on since Jonathan is sitting on the couch, but he’s not watching it. My gaze drifts over the back of his head, his mussed dark hair, the few inches of his bare neck before the neckline of the navy-blueT-shirt. Even just sitting there alone, he looks tense.
If I hadn’t fucked everything up by sleeping with him, I would be free to go in there and be his friend. Now, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders would feel sexual. Even sitting alone talking to him in the dark would feel like something I shouldn’t be doing.
My stomach starts to ache again and I don’t know why.
I’m used to that right now, though.
The ache turns to nausea and I place a hand over my tummy, overcome with a new wave of dread as I consider it might be more than nerves unsettling my stomach.
I want to go offer an ear, but I don’t think I can.
“Come on,” Milo says, taking my hand.
I guess going upstairs is the right thing to do, but it doesn’t feel like the right thing.
If we’re all going to be a family, I can’t always be stepping so carefully around Jonathan that I have to keep a safe distance, can I? I guess he won’t be living here much longer, but it still seems wrong.
Maybe that awkwardness will fade once we’re all on solid ground again.
Maybe it won’t always be like this.
Maybe my prayers will be answered and my period will finally come, and then with the threat of this permanent tether between us lifted, everyone can relax.
