“Care to share?” Mom put out her arm and, like a child, I snuggled into her side and told her everything Miles had shared with me, right down to my own concerns about his ability to be the father Henry needed. Mom listened intently, never interrupting and even when I finished, she took a moment to comment. She rubbed my arm. “Sounds to me like he doesn’t know how to be a father, never having one. And . . .”
“And, what?”
“You know how I feel about single men over thirty-five.”
Yes, I did. She actually wrote a paper—not to get published, just to hand out to the family—highlighting what a threat single men over thirty-five were to society. I think the phrase she used was, “With a growing number of men never maturing beyond adolescence, we will begin to see a decline in stable family environments and more male youth and men incarcerated.”
“But there is an antidote to their foolish, selfish behavior,” she added.
“What’s that?”
“A good woman.”
My head popped up. “You think I need to find Miles a woman?”
“No, silly.” She tapped my nose. “He already has one living with him.”
“I just told you, we won’t be having that type of relationship.”
“I didn’t say you needed to be hislover.” She grinned.
“Don’t use words like lover. Please,” I begged.
“Fine,” she placated me, “call it whatever you want. My point is, you are one of the best mothers I know.”
“I am?” I always worried that my parents were so disappointed in my life choices that they secretly considered me a failure in every aspect of my life.
Mom placed her hands on my cheek. “Oh, honey, you are the best of the best. There is no one better to teach Miles how to be a good parent.”
She had no idea what her compliment meant to me, but . . . “I’m not sure it’s my place. He’s my boss.”
“Hmm.” Mom thought, dropping her hands. “That may be true, but after reading his book, I can’t shake the feeling the two of you meeting was anything but a coincidence.”
I swallowed hard. “He practically said the same thing.”
“It must be like Isabella come to life for him.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“That’s the scared, closed-off you talking. It must be very uncomfortable for you being so close to someone who knows you so well.”
I rubbed my heart. I was having more and more chest pains. I was also squirming inside. Mom was spot-on and I didn’t like it one bit. “She’s a character in a book.”
“Like I said, it’s uncanny how similar you two are. Miles must recognize that. Given that, and the way he so tenderly writes her, I have a feeling he will listen to you. But,” she cautioned, “this will require that you open yourself up to him.”
“Why?” I asked in a panic.
“Honey, you don’t change people by telling them what to do. You have to show them and give them reason to.” She took me in her arms and held me tight. “It might be time to take a chance,” she whispered in my ear. “There’s a little boy counting on you.”
For the rest of the day, I thought about what my mom had said. Especially the part about Henry counting on me. Who else did he have? It didn’t sound like Miles had any sort of real relationship with his father or living siblings, so I wasn’t sure how much of an influence they could or wanted to have in Henry’s life. And Kevin, Henry’s father, had been an only child, and his parents had passed away several years ago.
With all that in mind, I was determined to at least broach the subject with Miles. So after dinner and doing soccer drills with Chloe in the backyard, which really turned into us trying to teach Henry how to dribble the ball because he didn’t like to be ignored and he had us wrapped around his cute pudgy fingers, I took the little tyke back to the main house for a bath and bed. Henry was so worn out from playing hard all day he quickly drifted asleep halfway through the first bedtime story. It was then I made my nightly trek to Miles’s office. This time, though, I walked a lot slower.
Before I knocked on Miles’s door, I tried to think of some ways to casually bring up how he could do better as Henry’s guardian. Not sure how casual that could be. I inhaled and exhaled, then knocked. The turning of the whiteboard could be heard, then his footsteps. His life was like one big ritual and he was sucking me into it.
He opened the door and like always, he hit me with his warm smile. “Aspen, it’s good to see you.”
I handed him the monitor. “Can I speak to you?” I held my hands behind my back wringing them.
