She sighs. “It’s all a blur of sleepless nights. It doesn’t matter. You are a great dad,” she assures me.
“That’s not what I’m asking. You can be a great dad but miss moments. I wasn’t there enough for you.”
Her eyes narrow in on me. “What do you want to hear? Yeah, it was tough. But you had hockey and…”
“It’s okay, be honest.”
“I don’t want to say it’s resentment or disappointment. You were building a career that provides for our son. I just… I don’t know…” She rolls her shoulder back. “Let’s just go to Margo’s, we can’t be late.”
“Don’t change the subject.” I hear the edge in my voice.
“Okay, yes. Sometimes I look back and hate how the cards fell, but I also don’t regret it. We have a great boy, and it all worked out in the end.” She avoids my eyes and looks out the window.
I laugh without humor. “I don’t think it worked out.”
“Stop saying that!” She raises her voice which surprises both of us. “I mean, Ford, I have a whole list of things that I wish were different, things I could be mad at you for, but we have to parent together, so I let it go.”
“Tell me the list,” I urge, with my eyes never blinking.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. If you want to go down this road, then let me rip the band-aid off.” Her voice is pure frustration. “I hate that it’s my choice that put us in this situation.”
My heart sinks, and I want to immediately comfort her. I urge her to turn her body in my direction by touching her arm. “Don’t. I’m promising you that it’s not your fault.” Her eyes well with water, and now I feel like an ass for getting her into an emotional state. “I need to hear you say it, that you understand that I don’t believe it’s your fault. Tell me,” I plead.
She nods once. “I do believe you.”
“Go on. What else is on the list? Every little thing.”
Her eyes flutter to keep her tears in. “You weren’t there when Connor had Chickenpox, that was hell. Or when I had to cram for a midterm, but Connor wouldn’t sleep, and my parents were on vacation. I hate that you got him a game console when he was only four.”
“Whoa, it was educational,” I say in an attempt to make her smile.
“It was a nuisance.”
I touch her cheek and rub my thumb along her cheekbone. “What else?”
“How every time Connor and I would visit you at a hockey game, you made it a grand experience for him that he would talk about for weeks. Which is amazing, but I couldn’t escape hearing your name more than usual. And God, that blonde you dated once was a real bitch, way too doll perfect.”
“She didn’t hold a candle to you, and I hated that nerd from your poli-sci class. Could have throttled him.”
“I know. And he didn’t even like pizza, what kind of person is that?” Now she is attempting to lighten the mood.
“I hate that I see you all the time. A great mom, so fucking sexy, and I wish every man knew that I have a claim to you.”
“Caveman,” she one-tones.
I twirl some of her hair around my finger. “I’d commit murder for you.”
“Now you just sound like a true crime in the making.”
A half-smile creeps on my lips. “My only crime is not confronting us sooner.”
“We were occupied.”
“Now we’re not.”
