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“She started it,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands.
“You’re a lot bigger than Izzie, bud, you should be protecting her, not pushing her around.”
He looks up at me with tears brimming on the surface of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.” They start to leak out and he throws his head in his hands, breaking my heart in the process.
“Why don’t we go upstairs?” I ask him and he nods, walking over to the staircase leading up to my studio.
My eyes scan the room and I see Izzie p
ainting while sitting on Mom’s knee and I signal that I’m going upstairs and to call Tristan for me. She gives me a thumbs-up before placing Izzie on the stool as she stands and heads into my office.
I walk up the stairs after Clayton, my heart beating out of my chest when I get to the top and see him sitting on the bench in front of my table.
His tears haven’t stopped and I can’t help myself, I walk over and pull him into my body. He stiffens at first, but when he relaxes, his arms reach out and grip onto my neck like his life is depending on it. I relax into the embrace fully, giving him the comfort that he’s desperately searching for.
He sobs into my neck and I try soothing him with a few shushes, running my hand over his light brown hair and down his back.
“It’s okay, Clayton. I’m sure that Izzie will forgive you.” He shakes his head furiously and I take it to mean that that isn’t why he’s crying. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll try and make it better.”
“No… you can’t,” he sobs, gripping onto my neck tighter.
I pull away from him slightly, looking into his distraught, bloodshot eyes. “I will do everything in my power to help you if you tell me what’s going on.”
He sniffles, his lip wobbling as he looks at me. “I want my mom.” A strangled cry bubbles up his throat and I have to fight back my own tears in the fear of upsetting him more. “I just want my mommy back.”
He lays his head against my chest and moves his hands from around my neck to wrap around his body, hugging himself like he’s trying to keep all of the pieces of his broken heart together.
My arms cradle him, trying to make him feel safe, but I have no words for him—none that would make this any easier for him anyway.
And then it hits me, this is all my fault. The Mother’s Day gifts speech; it was completely thoughtless of me. He hates me—Tristan is going to hate me.
I squeeze my eyes shut but a noise draws me out of the moment and they flit back open, seeing that it’s Tristan with his back against the wall, his hand covering his mouth and tears in his eyes as he shakes his head slightly.
Clayton must’ve heard the noise too because his head lifts slightly and he croaks out, “Daddy?” and that’s all it takes for Tristan to snap into “dad mode” and barrel forward, scooping him out of my arms and sitting on the floor with him as I stare at them in horror at what I’ve caused.
I don’t wander far once I drop the kids off at art class with Harmony. After last night, I didn’t think things could become worse, but they did.
Both Clay and I woke up to a bouncing, wide-awake Izzie, and that was only the start of the worst morning in the history of mornings. Clay was cranky after getting such little sleep, and he wouldn’t even look at Izzie. I knew what he was thinking; what he was feeling when he looked in her eyes, because I see her too. Natalia.
When we were eating breakfast, Izzie started singing, which then led to another argument. I knew that Izzie couldn’t understand what was up with Clay, and there was no way that I could explain it to her.
The whole morning was a write-off, and when we got into the car to go to art class, Clay only got worse. I knew that last night was playing on his mind, but what am I supposed to do when he won’t talk to me? I can’t help him when I don’t know what I’m helping him with.
I could see that he was going to blow at any second and so could Izzie, which is why she didn’t want to let go of me when we arrived at the studio.
I made a conscious effort to stay close by in case anything happened, and it was lucky that I did because I hadn’t been gone for more than twenty minutes when I got the call from Tilly asking me to come and pick Clay up.
I was back at the studio within a couple of minutes, and searching for both Clay and Izzie.
“Tilly?” I ask, stepping toward where she’s sitting with Izzie. “Pumpkin?”
“Daddy,” she sobs, jumping off Tilly’s lap and barreling toward me.
“What happened?” I bend down and wrap my arms around her before standing up, holding her tight as her tears wet my shirt.
“Clay was being a big meanie.”
I look at Tilly who points at the stairs. “He’s up there with Harmony.”
