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“You said you were in love with another woman. What did you expect me to do?” I ask.
“I expected you to stay and fight for us like before, but you just walked out.”
“And you let me without so much as shedding a tear. What does that tell you?” I ask.
“I can’t believe it’s over. I never thought we’d get here. That one day, I’d push you too far that we couldn’t find our way back,” he admits.
“Really? You thought I’d sweep a new baby under the rug and still show up at the club for lunch, as if nothing happened?” I ask incredulously.
“I never meant for that to happen, I swear.”
“It’s my fault too. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being me and started being Dr. Lowder’s wife. I played in a neighborhood Bunco league, for goodness’ sake. I forgot who I was.”
“She’s still in there. I see her now.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“What about Caleb? I might have to let you go, but he is my son, and I will not give up on him. I’ll fight for my boy.”
“God, I hope so. He needs to know you want him, but you can work on your relationship with him later. Now, I think you need to get back to Ivy ASAP.”
“Yeah. I can send him some things for his room and maybe a new television for your living room.”
“No, you can’t buy his love, and you have to stop trying. It just makes things worse. He’s not going to remember the number of presents under the tree on Christmas morning. He won’t be able to recall how much the shoes on his feet cost or the thread count of his sheets on his bunk bed. He’s going to remember the time you spent with him and the memories you put in the effort to make together.”
“I think I’ve already blown it. We don’t have a lot of father-son memories.”
I shrug. “History is always in the making. You can start now and get it right, going forward. Now, about Ivy,” I press.
“She isn’t speaking to me, I’m sure.”
“Well, pal, you deserve her wrath. Maybe a hospital room full of roses will do the trick. It can’t hurt to try.”
I stand, and he stands with me.
“I still love you. I hurt the best person I’ve ever known, and I’m kicking myself for it.”
“Good. Just don’t do it forever. We both need to move forward.”
“Can I wait for Caleb?”
I sigh and point to the swing.
I text Graham and ask him to bring Caleb home. Then, I leave Damon and walk down and climb into the backseat of Jena’s car.
“What’s the verdict? Is he just going to hang outside your house forever?” Jena asks.
“He’s waiting for Graham to bring Caleb home, so he can see him.”
“That won’t be awkward at all,” Jena says.
“Tell me about it.”
“Here.” She hands me a bag.
“You actually brought popcorn?” I ask.
“Yeah, Erin said come quick and bring popcorn. So I grabbed popcorn and sped over.”
“Did she even tell you why?” I ask.
“Dude, she didn’t have to. Come quick and bring popcorn is code for some shit is about to go down and she needs someone to watch it with. You don’t ask questions at that point, you just get in the car,” she explains.
“What if she was in trouble and needed help of some sort?”
“Then she would have said come quick and bring your gun. That’s totally different,” she clarifies.
“Yep, no time for popcorn in that situation,” Erin agrees.
“Got it,” I tell them.
“I did bring a shovel though, just in case. It’s in the trunk,” Jena informs.
“Good thinking. Graham might beat Damon to death and we’ll need it,” Erin says.
“Graham’s not going to fight Damon,” I insist.
“You’re probably right. We may have to do it ourselves,” Erin offers.
“No one is fighting Damon. Caleb is on his way,” I remind them.
“Shoot, kids are always ruining our fun,” Jena grumbles.
“Speaking of Graham, you love him. You love Graham Tuttle,” Erin teases.
“No, I don’t,” I deny.
“Oh, yes, you do. You two are like two olives in a martini. We just heard you admit it.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t possibly. It’s only been a couple of months. That’s too soon for love,” I insist, “but I do feel something that could grow into love.”
Jena laughs. “Girl, life doesn’t always work out on a neat timetable. The heart doesn’t give a shit about time. Our brain calculates time, but our heart just feels, and it doesn’t care if it’s been a month or if it’s been ten years. If it finds something true, it just runs with it. Let yourself run toward happiness. Don’t let your brain take the lead this time. Tell it to shut the hell up and go get that man,” she advises.
I look up at my front porch. “I think that will have to wait until I can get rid of this man.”
“No doubt,” she agrees.
