I can’t help it, a laugh erupts from me, loud enough it startles Pumpkin and draws Ethan’s attention.
“He’s two,” I giggle, holding my middle as if trying to contain myself, “He likes everyone.”
Kolt simply stares at me, a frown knotting at his brows, “Okay but how do I make him know I’m his dad?”
I sober, “It doesn’t work that way Kolt. You know he’s yours, but Ethan doesn’t. You have to work on your bond and grow it. I know it would have been different if you knew when he was born but we can’t turn back time. You just have to be with him, be his dad.”
“I lost so much time with him,” He whispers, a wobble to his voice that brings tears to my eyes.
“But Ethan doesn’t know that,” I say quietly, the guilt devouring me whole, “He’s not going to remember the last two years. He won’t even remember now or the next couple. He’ll only remember you always being there if you decide to stay.”
“Why do you think I won’t stay?”
Feeling my stomach knot, I head towards my son, “Because you leave, Kolt. That’s what you do.”
I am being completely unfair. I know I am, but I’m sour on it.
We haven’t said a single word to each other in the past twenty minutes, but he’s provided his undivided attention to our son who is giggling with a strand of Kolt’s hair in his hand. Maybe I should have warned him he had a habit of hair pulling. But Kolt doesn’t seem to mind, he hasn’t taken his eyes off Ethan, and Kolt’s grin, this big, white toothed smile, lifts his whole face and gives a light to his eyes that wasn’t there before.
It’s a smile I’ve never seen, so genuine and unabashed that it’s got my heart feeling some kind of way.
“He has your eyes,” Kolt says quietly, managing to detangle Ethan’s hand from his hair and providing his pinky finger as a distraction.
“It’s the only thing,” I laugh, “Everything else is you.”
“He’s beautiful, Ness,” Kolt stares at his son, “You did good.”
“We,” I correct, glancing to the clock, “You okay if I go make him some food before bath time?”
“Of course,” he agrees, “Anything you need, Ness.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I head into the kitchen and grab some food from the fridge to start heating up. I can hear Kolt’s low baritone voice, the sound of it so at odds with the house only me and my sister have only ever really been in. I can’t hear his words but the deepness of his voice travels through the walls, a calming murmur that soothes me as much as it’s probably soothing Ethan too.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to do this.
How I’m supposed to coexist and coparent with a man that has this invisible hold on me, that has something tied to me that I can feel tugging me back.
I’ve been fighting memories since he showed back up on the island, been fighting dreams of his hands and his mouth and trying to drown out his words.
For my son’s sake, I have to remain strong. I can’t fall for Kolt again, especially since I’m still struggling to get back up from the last time.
I dish up Ethan’s food and grab one of his spoons from the drawer, heading through to the living room where Kolt now hashim on his knee, a picture book open in front of them. Ethan points to the bright colors on the page while Kolt attempts to read it in between the constant hand grabs and him repeating the words Kolten says.
“His highchair is over here,” I interrupt them, pointing to the small round dining table set up in the corner of the room. We didn’t have a dining room, not that we needed one. I don’t eat until way after Ethan has gone to sleep, and it’s usually either leftovers still out of the dish, I brought it home from Immy’s, or ramen noodles. I’m usually so exhausted by the time Ethan goes down that cooking’s just too much.
Kolt carries Ethan to his chair and gets him in place like he’s an expert, fastening the straps to stop him from climbing out before he pulls out a chair and holds out his hand for the bowl of food.
Speechless, I hand it over, leaning against the back of the couch to observe.
“When do you eat?” He asks me, spooning some food to give to Ethan, letting our son take it to feed himself with guiding hands so it doesn’t go all over the place.
“Later.”
His eyes flick to me as if he senses a lie, “Okay, but when?”
“Later,” I repeat, “When he is in bed.”
Ethan takes the food from the spoon, “What will you eat today?”
