“Anytime,” she says as she transfers my son to my arms.
We all say goodbye and head our separate ways. Well, other than Sloane and me, since she’s coming to my place, where Mrs. Ward will surely be there, packing her things, per her earlier phone call. That’s good, though. Sloane can ask her any questions she might have. Not that I can’t answer them, but yeah, I don’t even know what I’m saying. I know that I went from a state of panic to ebb in a matter of minutes, and I have Sloane Peterson to thank for helping me regain my calm.
The drive to my place is short. I try to call Natasha on the drive, as Mrs. Ward said she wasn’t able to get a hold of her. “Hey, it’s me. Mrs. Ward tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. She’s quitting, but I have a plan for temporary help. Call me when you get this.” I end the call, dropping the phone into the cupholder. I don’t know why I even bothered to call her. She wasn’t going to answer.
Pulling into the driveway, I hit the garage door opener and drive in. Mrs. Ward’s car is also in the driveway. She’s been good to us—for us—and I’m sad to see her leave, but I’m happy for her to get to spend so much time with her grandkids.
Sloane pulls up to the door, parks, and rushes to grab the diaper bag, while I carry Camden inside. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, before turning to take Camden up to his room.
“Oh, Mr. Sinclair,” Mrs. Ward says, stepping out of her room with two suitcases.
“Let me put him down, and I’ll carry those down for you,” I tell her.
“Oh, heavens, you don’t need to do that.” She waves me off.
“I insist,” I tell her, stepping into my son’s room and placing him in his bed. It’s still his crib, and I need to get him a bigger bed. Maybe Sloane can help me with that while she’s here. “I love you, little man,” I whisper, before stepping out of my son’s room. “Is there anything else?” I ask Mrs. Ward, taking both of her suitcases from her.
“No, I didn’t keep much at either place. I took it all with me as I went back and forth. It was just easier for me that way instead of having things spread out all over.”
“So, you don’t have anything at Natasha’s that you need to retrieve?”
“No, just this. It’s been ages since I’ve been there, it seems,” she states sadly.
“Sloane, a family friend whom you’ve met, is going to help out until Natasha and I can find a permanent replacement. She’s here, and I’d like to introduce you. If you have a few minutes, maybe the two of you can talk?”
“Of course, I’d be happy to.” Her smile is sad, yet still kind, grandmotherly, and she nods, starting to make her way downstairs.
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Ward greets Sloane.
“Congratulations!” Sloane pulls her into a hug. “Twins, that’s so exciting.”
“I know, but she’s high risk. She’s had some spotting, and well, I want to be there with her. My husband and I said that when she had kids, we’d move to be closer if she and her husband had not moved close to us by then, and well, here we are.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “I’m so sorry, I can’t give you notice.” I can hear the regret in her tone.
“You need to be with your daughter. Your family needs you, and I’d never hold that against you,” I assure her. Now that I’m a father, I understand that more than ever before.
“Thank you.” She dips her head. “Sloane, take down my number. Call me anytime with questions. Camden is the sweetest, and he’s easy.”
“That would be amazing. I know Baker will be in training camp soon, and not having to bother him if questions arise would be great.”
“Call me anytime,” Mrs. Ward says, as they exchange numbers.
It’s comforting that Sloane will have that contact, but it also pisses me off that Cam’s mother isn’t the one she’d be calling with questions. I need to let it go. Being mad at my son’s mother isn’t helpful, but I hate how he’s not an important part of her life. He’s my entire world. She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want him. I just wish she’d say it and we could end this “will she, won’t she, every other week” bullshit. I’m going to have to sit her down and talk to her. It’s a conversation I’ve been both avoiding and dreading, but it’s time we had it.
“I should get going,” Mrs. Ward says.
“I’ll walk you out.” Picking up her two suitcases, I address Sloane. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” I tell her before following Mrs. Ward out to her car.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I hate that I’m leaving like this.”
“You’re doing what is best for your family. No fault in that,” I say again, because I’m not mad at her. She has been such a tremendous help over the last two years.
“Send me pictures of him, yeah?” she asks, with a sad smile.
“Of course. Drive safe.” I load her suitcases in the trunk and wave her off before making my way back into the house. I find Sloane in the living room, shoes kicked off, feet tucked under her, hugging a pillow to her chest.
I plop down on the opposite end of the couch, close my eyes, and rest my head back.
“Tough day, huh?” Sloane says after a few long beats of silence.
