Doesn’t matterwhyBrian ended things. They’re over.
“Sounds like you deserve better.”
“We were both at fault. I think Brian wanted to be a good husband as much as I wanted to be a good wife. I didn’t give him what he needed. Some people aren’t the right fit.” We didn’t bring out the best in each other, no matter how much I hate admitting that. Staying together isn’t as simple of a choice as I used to believe it was.
He acknowledges my answer with lingering eye contact before looking away and taking another long pull from his glass. “Quinn has a speech therapy evaluation in a week.”
I don’t have to guess if this confession has something to do with the teacher’s meeting he had the other day. Don’t have to ask him if he’s worried about it either. I can hear it in his voice.
“You said it was unfair for me to know something so personal about you. Well, there you go,” he adds in the wake of my silence.
His words drip with self-consciousness. An unease that’s not hard to miss.
Is that why he fought going? Because he’s embarrassed?
“You know the results aren’t a reflection of you as a parent, right?”
His silence is all the answer I need. He’s blaming himself.
“Says the woman who doesn’t have any children.”
I blanch, then burn inside. Of all the things he could have said, I didn’t expect an insult. What stings the most is that he’s right. I can’t pretend to understand what it must feel like to have a child who is struggling. To have a child at all.
I can brush off most things, but this is the one topic I get the most defensive about, and insecurity spills over into myresponse. “If it bothers you so much, then why did you hire me to help with Quinn?”
He straightens and holds up his palms. “Shit, Summer, I’m sorry. It doesn’t bother me. I’m just tired of everyone knowing more about parenting than I do. Why is this the hardest job I’ve ever had?” His head collapses into his hands, his walls slipping and his vulnerability showing. “I don’t know how to raise a kid. Up until tonight, she’s never even asked me to go in that box fort you made her. Never kissed me good night. Never did any of the things she did to show her mom she loved her.”
It’s clear what I originally said did nothing to make him feel any better. In fact, I think I might have made matters worse. Because now he sounds like he wants my opinion, and I’m in no position to be giving anyone life advice. I’ve told him as much. It’s my turn for another personal truth.
“Last spring I was on a hike by myself, contemplating what to do after my last job didn’t work out. Brian seemed supportive enough when I told him the news that morning, but I was still visibly spiraling. I almost stepped on this tabby cat’s tail when she came darting out of the sagebrush and batted at my shoelace. She didn’t have a collar, so I brought her home with me, and when I walked in the door, Brian took one look at the kitten and said, ‘Really, Summer. You can barely take care of yourself.’”
I don’t mean to get emotional, but that’s exactly what surfaces while dredging up the memory of his words.
Everett circles the counter, stopping right in front of me.
“That’s why you pretended Henry was yours.” He doesn’t ask if it’s true. Just says it like the statement it is.
I hug my arms around my torso. I’d rather throw myself in traffic than say this out loud. “Do you know what it’s like for a woman in her thirties who looks like a stay-at-home-mom but doesn’t have any children? Everywhere I go it’s thefirst question I’m asked.There must be something wrong with Summer if she hasn’t had a kid by now. There couldn’t possibly be another reason for why someone wouldchoosenot to have one. So, yes. When you made a comment about Henry being mine, I let you believe it. I didn’t want you thinking?—”
He wraps his palms around my arms, stroking up and down in a soothing pattern. “The only thing I was thinking wasa woman that confident must make an incredible mom.”
I shake my head and let the tears that have been pooling in my lash line free. “The old mewas confident. Now I can’t even go over to the house I shared with him to get a cat he doesn’t even want back. I’m too afraid he’ll be home and remind me I don’t deserve her.”
Rhett’s hugging me by the time I let all of that out. And I thought I’d stop there, but the warmth of his body seems to be pulling every last admission from me. “I wouldn’t have dared bring a child into the world with a man who’d resent me about acat. It wasn’t that I didn’t want one.” My chest lurches against his with an embarrassing hiccup and I pull away, swiping at my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, this was about you. I’m clearly not the right person for advice on this subject. And you have enough going on. You don’t need to listen to me blubber on about my tragic past.”
“Summer.”
I take backward steps, catching my heel on the edge of the living room rug and pinwheeling my arms to keep from tipping backwards. “You know what?—”
“Summer,” he tries to interrupt again.
I point at him. “Maybe you should ask that mother-in-law of yours. She seems bursting with feedback.”
He chuckles as my back connects with the front door. I bend down to slip on my tennis shoes.
“If she said anything offensive to you, I’m sorry. Caroline is insufferable when it comes to Quinn.”
