“Um…” I try to play it out in my mind like her mother taught us. Pretend it’s actually happening and get into the nooks and back corners of my imagination to build a realistic scenario. “Caleb would probably go over and get the stuff I’d need right away. You and I would go back for the rest when Bo was out or something.”
“And then?”
“My kid wouldn’t have a dad. Or they’d have a dad that I was scared of. Then I’d have to be worried forever. Anxious about them having visits, nervous during drop-offs and pickups. If it escalated, I’d have to get a lawyer and pay to go to court. I could lose my case because Bo has more money and could afford a better lawyer. I could end up being the one in trouble, somehow. Being the one who askshimfor visits.”
“Okay,” she says softly, rubbing my back in slow circles. “That’s the worst-case scenario, right? Finished?”
I nod, wiping a single hot tear off my cheek.
“Good,now—does that seem likely?” she asks, her voice sincere.
“No,” I answer plainly. “No… it doesn’t.”
“What do you think isactuallygoing to happen?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. I don’t see Bo being a problem, but I don’t know him well enough to know what it willactuallybe like. When we hang out, we banter, and it’s fun and easy—but that’s as far as I know.”
“So it’s a wait and see.”
“It just keeps coming back to getting to know each other more.”
“Right, which is why I think moving in with himisa good choice. He wants to be involved, and I think trusting him until he gives you a reason not to is healthy.”
I imagine Bo the last time we saw each other in person—the night he proposed this idea. His navy cable-knit sweater under his unbuttoned suede coat, blue jeans with bright green socks poking out underneath. Not threatening whatsoever, which is impressive, considering his height.
I also think of the texts we’ve exchanged since then. The way I can’t seem to stop my smile with each flash of his name across my screen, knowing something funny or sweet is about to appear. The daily check-ins and the thank-yous and the apologies for how sick I’ve been. The anecdotes he’s learning from his first-time dad book.
I’ve convinced myself little by little over each day in the last few weeks that this is a good idea, but I think I’ll have to be comfortable in the unsureness to some extent. Most likely, there will always be a lingering amount of distrust, given what I went through. Self-preservation lives in doubt, after all.
Sarah clasps her hand around my knee, appearing deep in thought herself. “But it’s not just you inanyof that, Win. In the worst case or the best possible outcome, I’m right here. You’ve got me and Caleb. Whether you want us or not.”
“I used to have your back. Remember that?” I pick at my leggings, frustrated with myself.
“Yeah, I know. I still feel it.” She leans against me, and I stop pinching the fabric around my knee. “It’s just your turn right now. That’s all it is. Turns.”
I’m about to tell her we really should be getting out of here before my landlord shows up for inspection when an echoing voice comes from down the hall. “Sarah?” Caleb shouts from the stairwell, his voice full of comical amounts of distress. “No one is answering their phone. Are you guys okay?”
I pull out my phone at the same time Sarah does, and we grimace at each other. Between us, there are a dozen missed calls and texts. “Forgive me,” she whispers. “Sorry! Win’s having a meltdown, and I’m looking after her! Be down in a minute!”
Caleb appears at the doorway, red-faced and sweating. “Please don’t stop on my account.” He laughs, falling to the floor in front of us. “I’ll just lay here anddie.”
“It’s probably a good thing you two have chosen not to procreate. How dramatic wouldthatchild be?”
“Hopefully Bo’s DNA levelsyouout,” Caleb says, peeking at me with one eye open. I throw my gum wrapper at his face.
We sit for a while in silence. I take in the emptied apartment that suddenly feelssomuch smaller while Caleb catnaps on the floor as Sarah rubs his shoulder.
In the four years I’ve been here, everything has been for the purpose of getting by. A job to pay the bills, waiting for summer to come to feel a little more like myself, not pushing myself todomore orbemore because I’ve been afraid. I haven’t made any real progress here. I’ve settled into a stagnant, passable life—safe but perhapstoosafe. Smaller than the life I’d like to live moving forward. Maybe this is the fresh start I needed to get my ass into gear.
Maybe a little discomfort will do me some good.
CHAPTER 14
FollowingbehindCalebinthe moving van, Sarah and I pull onto a quiet street lightly dusted with snow and lined with mismatched, picturesque older homes. The sun is out today, and it’s glistening against the ice-covered black roof of house number fourteen. Bo’s house.
We planned for me to come visit a few weeks ago, but between Bo taking on a new project at work, my general level of exhaustion, and a few winter storms, we just ran out of time.
It’sstupidcute. A Tudor-style bungalow with a high gabled roof on the right side and dark brown timbering over top of the white stone exterior.
