Can we talk?
I shoot my gaze to Daddy but if he’s seen the name on my screen, he has the good grace to pretend he hasn’t. If this was anyone else – though unlikely, since hardly anyone messages me these days – I might call them straight away. In times gone by, I would have snuck out of the room and found a quiet spot to call Auston. But I’m staring at my phone like it’s growing a disease. I’ve beenstaring at it for long enough that I miss the Bears’ next touchdown that makes them 13–0.
I have such a delayed reaction that Daddy is giving me a look likewhat’s up with you?So I clench my fist and tell him, “Go, Bears!”
Then I decide that I am entitled to have some fire in my belly, too, and for once, I’m not going to let Auston dictate how things goorshy away from him.
Me
I’m watching the Bears. You can call me after the game or tomorrow around eleven.
No hurt, no animosity, no feeling. Because the only reason I’m replying at all is for Nelson’s sake.
Yet I don’t manage to get back into the game and when I settle Nelson into his crib at halftime, I ask him, “What does your daddy want from us, huh?”
Nelson snores in response and that tiny little noise calms my nerves a smidge because he’s content. With or without Auston in his life, I simply want my baby to be happy.
The Bears’ defense works hard in the third and fourth quarters and Lamar too often gives over possession, but remarkably, we secure a narrow win.
“A win’s a win,” Daddy says, grunting as he pushes up to stand. “Bedtime.”
“I’ll follow you up, I’m going to get a drink first,” I lie, already hating that I am, once again, keeping secrets with Auston.
Daddy kisses my brow and tells me to sleep well before heading on upstairs, while I make my way out to the porch. Auston’s name lights up my phone.
I answer but my throat is suddenly so tight that I can’t speak. I hate myself for reacting to him with anything other than disinterest.
“Annie? Are you there?”
And I hate the way the sound of my name on his lips makes me feel like my heart is in my mouth.
Somehow, I find the strength to ask, “What do you want, Auston?”
A second feels like eternity… “How are you?”
Auston has this quality to his voice – a rasp, a low, gravelly husk, and I’ve always found it insanely sexy. The very first time he came home from college with Colton for spring break, he was a sophomore and I was a high school freshman, and by comparison to the boys at school, Auston was bigger and older. He looked it and he sounded it.
From that very first day I laid eyes on him, I crushed so hard it was distracting.
The reason I know I’m wiser now is that my pulse rate might have soared but I am fueled by rage instead of romance. “HowamI?”
I want to yell at him,Tired.I’m fucking tired, Auston, because I’m raising our baby alone. My mama has died and I’m doing my best to support her legacy. I’m back at school so that one day I can look Nelson in the eye and tell himIdid that,Igot us the life we deserve, andIam a smart woman who has learned from her mistakes.
“You’ve ghosted me for a year and a half, while I’ve had our child, and you want to know how Iam? Well, I’m fine, Auston. So is Nelson. If that’s the only reason you called, frankly, you can go fuck yourself.”
Okay, maybe I could have been more grown up but gosh darnthat felt good. My mama was a saintly woman and I don’t even think she would be mad at me for cursing in the circumstances.
“I deserve that.” He sighs. Both his reaction and his words surprise me. But neither more than him saying, “I’d like to meet Nelson.”
“Why?” My voice breaks but I recover. “Because you’ve been booed by even the Archers’ home fans for the first two games of the season and now suddenly you decide to be a better man?”
I’m a bull being provoked by a matador. Nelson has brought out a fighter in me that didn’t exist before him. A fierce need to protect him.
“No. Because I’m his daddy.”
“Na-ah. That is a badge of honor bequeathed on a man who has earned it. You may be his father but you don’t get to call yourself a daddy to a baby you’ve never even laid eyes on.”
“So let me. Please. I’m asking, not telling. It’s your call. But I’d like to see him, Annie. I’d like to meet my son.”
