Except that I’m seething at the thought of him touching her.
“Me neither. But that's the point of dating, though, right? Getting to know someone?”
She's swimming on her back now, casual as anything, like she's not dismantling every last shred of my self-control with her words, her body, the wet lace doing absolutely nothing to hide her curves.
“He seems nice,” she continues, staring up at the stars. “Good with horses.”
Nice? Good with horses?Those are her qualifications?
The man who's going to try to kiss her, put his hands all over her, be her fucking first…
“Walker? You okay?”
“Fine.” It comes out throughgritted teeth.
“Okay.” But she's watching me too carefully, seeing too much. “So you think I should go out with him? If he asks again?”
No. Hell no. Over my dead body.
“You don't need my permission.”
I set my glass down hard. The sound makes her jump slightly, and when her eyes meet mine, there's a question in them. She can sense the tension coiling between us but clearly doesn't know what to do with it.
Of course she doesn’t.
She’s a virgin.
And I’m… me.Not that I know what to do with this tension either.
I force myself back to the deep end.Distance, I remind myself, swimming through the turquoise water.
“I suppose getting married and having a child changes a man,” she says.
“I was ready for something more even before that. You can only live young, wild, and free for so long before you start wondering if there’s more to life than what craziness you can get up to on a Saturday night. I thought I found it. I did, in Jonah.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why doesn't she see him?” She says it gently, carefully. “Jonah’s mom. I know you said she's busy, but... Jonah says she doesn’t even call him.”
My heart fucking breaks for my son.
“She's not interested,” I say finally. Keep it simple. Keep it honest. “I don't understand it. Won't pretend I do. But it's her choice to make. All I can do is make sure Jonah knows he's loved. That he's wanted. That he matters.”
“You're doing a great job with him, you know,” she says. “Isee the way he lights up when you come home. The way he runs to you first with every scraped knee and every interesting bug he finds. You’re everything to him.”
Hearing Sadie say it does something to me. I’ve needed to hear that for two years and I didn't know it until right now.
Because I don’t know if I’m doing a good job, let alone a great one. Some days it feels like I was barely able to pull my son out of the wreckage of that broken marriage. Sometimes it feels like the damage has already been done. Every day I’m trying to be enough for a kid who deserves two parents who actually want him.
It’s been two years of wondering if I'm fucking it all up.
Hell, I’ve been wondering that from the moment he was born.
“Thanks,” I manage, throat tight.
“For what it's worth,” she adds tenderly, “I don't understand it either. How someone could choose not to be around that kid. He’s the best.”
