He wanted me. He wanted me to meet his son.
Those actions were not his modus operandi. Jamieson Finch was cold, a wizard with functions and equations but not known for his interpersonal skills. If the rumors were true, each semester, a few female students tried to seduce him. I’d heard he was particularly careful with any woman because the mere hint of impropriety could cost him his reputation. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to stay away from potential lawsuits and campus inquiries.
What he’d shown me, that vulnerability, was even more impressive because of his history. And I’d flung his emotions back in his face, shut the door before I’d even really considered his offer.
“I’m afraid,” I said. Hudson stared up at me, his eyes still the blue of babyhood but muddying quickly. They’d be brown soon—possibly hazel, like my brother’s.
“I lost so many people in such a short time. My life changed after my parents’ death, then again after your parents’. I don’t know how to not be afraid that life will change again, that I’ll lose more people. But that’s not logical—that’s emotional. A fear I don’t want to pass along to you, sweet boy. How can I be brave when the mere idea of allowing someone else into my heart makes my heart pound? It’s been so tattered. Do I even have one left?”
I did. I wouldn’t feel this way if I didn’t.
“What should I do? How do I figure this out?”
Unlike a mathematical equation, I couldn’t solvethisproblem with logic. I would have to be honest. Vulnerable.
Was there anything worse than opening myself up to more hurt?
Hudson pushed away the bottle and smiled, bright and big and enough to take my breath away. I never tired of his smiles, which lit up his entire face and seemed to start with his enormous eyes.
“You’re right, sweetie. You just do it.”
Hudson added a coo and a giggle to his next smile, and I cuddled him closer.
CHAPTER8
Jamieson
Graduation Day lostits special luster when I went to the ceremony three times a year, every year. I situated my robes and tassels and other paraphernalia required so that the parents and students attending today would know I was learned and distinguished. I rolled my eyes and sighed, turning from the reflection.
“I think you look pretty good,” Escher said from where he sat, cross-legged, on my bed. My lonely bed. Until Libby, I had thought little about my lack of romance. Raising Escher, trying to untangle difficult equations, guest lectures, and travel took up my time. They wallpapered over the lonely reality that my son was growing up—already as tall as I was—and growing away from me.
“Thanks, but I’d much rather spend the afternoon at your game than at the graduation.” Not exactly true, as I felt a burst of pride in Libby Dagon’s accomplishments.
“Just another match,” Escher said as he rose. He wore his uniform but bent over to slide his feet into his cleats. “I’ll have Jake’s mom send you a video.”
I settled my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, Esch.”
“She’s single, you know.”
No, I didn’t. “Who?”
“Jake’s mom. And she bakes cookies from scratch. She likes to sing while she cooks dinner, and she’s smart—some kind of marketing executive.”
“Iris is a lovely woman,” I agreed. She was, but she wasn’t for me. I found her laugh a little too loud, her bottle-blonde hair a bit too brash. She liked to be noticed, for her athletic figure was always wrapped in Lulu Lemon, or whatever the newest, hottest brand was.
She was also kind, a patient and loving mother, and someone I’d briefly considered getting involved with.Briefly.
“But not for you,” Escher said, shoulders slumping. He shot me a look I found difficult to decipher. I was receiving more of those. “Jake’s house smells wonderful. He’s always got healthy food in the fridge, clean clothes, fresh towels.”
“Iris isn’t a hotel service provider,” I said, raising my eyebrow. “Most of those things you can do for yourself.”
“I know, but it’s nice to know someone elsewantsto do it for me. At least, I think it would be. Jake says his mom’s a pain in the ass.”
I settled on the edge of my bed, staring up at my son. I sucked in my lower lip as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. “You miss her. Your mom.”
Escher shrugged. “How can I? She died when I was born.”
I swallowed back the grief that hit whenever I remembered Leila’s machines flatlining. I’d been ushered out of the hospital room, confused and scared, still holding Escher because I’d just cut his umbilical cord.
