Her jaw drops. “Inpublic?”
I wince. “Against the side wall of the club?” It comes out like a question, small and sheepish. I give her a weak smile. “Oops?”
“What is it with you two?” she asks, her expression adding disgust with disappointment.
“I’m still really, really attracted to him,” I admit.
“Yeah. That much is obvious.” The snark is on full blast. “But seriously, Em. What’s the point of starting that mess up again? You made a decision. Stick to it. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
“The dog’s not sleeping anymore,” I say, my voice firmer than I expect. “We’re in each other’s orbit again, whether I like it or not. And what we had before? It’s still there. Maybe it’s different now. Maybewe’redifferent. Older. Wiser. The circumstances aren’t the same.”
“Are they?” she shoots back, eyebrows arched. “Because last I checked, he’d just been beaten half to death when you ran into him again. You think that screams‘healthy life choices’?”
I feel myself getting angry on Liam’s behalf, that old desire to protect him rising inside of me, just like it did when we were young.
“You do realize that nothing that happened to him when he was a kid was his fault, right? He had a deadbeat dad and an addict mom. And his mom had a rotating cast of boyfriends who were not nice to him. He was trying to break free from that cycle, to make something of himself. Hockey was his only way out.”
“A gift you allowed him to keep by choosing to walk away and be a single mom,” she says. “You sacrificed for him, and now what? Now he gets to waltz back into your life, and you’ll all just be a happy family? It doesn’t work that way, Emma.”
“Why not?” I ask. “Why can’t it work that way? He’s in the NHL. I have a job. Things are stable. We’re not teenagers anymore; we’re adults.”
“So tell me, are you just going to march in and be like, Oh, by the way, you have a son I never told you about?” she asks. “And what about Laddie? How does this affect him? And what if you introduce them and then Liam really is a mess? What then? What if Liam rejects him?”
“He wouldn’t,” I say firmly. “Liam wouldn’t walk away from his kid.”
She scoffs. “And how do you know that, Em? He had a deadbeat father. He’s got no frame of reference for what being a good dad even looks like. And let’s be real, he’s a professional hockey player. He could be dick-deep in pussy all over the place. He travels a lot. He may not want his life upended by his ex and a kid.”
I feel like she’s slapped me in the face, and my expression must show it because she sighs and calms her tone.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I am. That was crass. I just… I worry.”
“Tal,” I say, taking a moment to consider how to respond. “I didn’t want to leave Liam. I loved him. I believed in what we had together. I just wanted him to have a chance at a different life. I believe he loved me, too, and I think I knew him well enough to know if I’d told him I was pregnant, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve given up everything for me. For us.”
She makes a weird, slight, dismissive motion with her hand. “Whatever, Emma. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. Just know what I think you’re taking a serious risk by opening yourself back up to him.”
“I need to talk to him,” I say. “I won’t mention Laddie, at least not at first. I do want to know who he is now, what he’s been up to. If he seems stable and things are good, then maybe. I’ll take it slow.”
My sister just shrugs. “It’s a messy idea at best, but I’m always here for you. You know that.”
“I do,” I say.
“Does he have social media?” Talia asks. “I bet you can tell a lot about him if he has social media.”
I lift a shoulder. “I already looked. Barely anything there. Just hockey stuff and the occasional charity post.” I try to sound casual.
Talia smirks like she knows exactly what I did, then announces she’s going to take a shower.
Once she disappears down the hall, I load my breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and wander over to the couch. Laddie cuddles up into my side like it’s instinct.
I kiss the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. What do you say we do something fun later today instead of turning into couch potatoes?”
He looks up at me, his eyes bright. “Like what, Mama? Can we go to the library? Please, please,please?”
I grin. “Storytime at the library, it is.”
He pumps a little fist in the air. “Yes! I love storytime. Maybe they’ll read about dragons again. Oh! And can we stop by the costume box after? I want to be the knight this time.”
“The knight, huh? Not the dragon?” I tease.
