CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
COLLINS
I stare into his eyes, and I can tell he has more to say. But the bell rings again, and he looks up at the ceiling, letting out a deep breath. “I should get that,” he says, and I shake my head furiously back and forth.
“No.” I feel like my whole body is shaking with nerves. “I’m not . . . I don’t think . . .”
“Collins.” Every single time he says my name, it calms me. “I promise you I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” I swallow. “I also promise you that it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” I don’t tell him I don’t really believe in promises. They’ve been made to me for so long, and every single time I’ve been let down by the two people who are supposed to never break them. The two people who are supposed to love you unconditionally from the time you take your first breath until their last.
He walks away from me toward the door, and I look around to see if there is somewhere I can escape to. Maybe I can run out the back, but then where the fuck would I go? “I’m so sorry,” I tell the baby as I put my hand on my stomach. “I know there are a million other people out there who are more qualified than I am to be your mom, but we are in this together.”
I can hear voices, but the only thing I truly notice is the buzzing in my ears. I close my eyes and count to five before I open them again. “We are so sorry to be barging in,” the woman says, “but your father got called in this morning to take a half shift, and then I had to run into work.”
“Samantha,” a deep-voiced man says, “can you move out of the way so I can get in here? The bags are cutting into my hands.”
“They wouldn’t be cutting into your hands if you would let me carry a few,” she hisses at him, and I can’t help but roll my lips at her snarkiness.
“They wouldn’t be cutting into my hands if you weren’t hugging him like he just got back from war.”
“How about we all table this discussion for later,” Theo says, “when it’s a good time.”
“By all means,” the woman replies, “lead the way.” I cross my fingers together and place them in front of me. Then I shake the nerves out of them. I really should have worn another outfit, I think, looking down at my cutoff jean shorts and white tank top. In my defense, it’s not like I had a special dress hanging in my closet for this event. Though I could have worn nicer shorts. I close my eyes, inhaling through my nose, and then softly exhaling. Trying to relax as much as I can, but the effort is fruitless.
Theo enters the room, his eyes meeting mine. A beautiful woman with blonde hair is right behind him, and then a man with black hair. My eyes go to his hands; he has about five bags in each. “Collins,” Theo says softly, walking to me, “come and meet my parents.”
He stands beside me, his hand reaching for mine. “Mom, Dad, this is Collins.” He looks at me with a soft smile. “These are my parents, Blake and Samantha.”
“Hello.” I give an awkward little wave, and then I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Who waves at people when they are first introduced? “I’m sorry.” I take a step forward, holding out my hand to shake his mom’s. “I’m Collins.” His mother looks at my hand and then back at me. I know she’s going to see that her son is too good for me and not shake my hand.
But then she bypasses my hand and gives me a hug. A hug that, as far as I can remember, my own mother never gave me. She must have hugged me when I was a child, but as far back as I can remember, none of my memories of her or my father include hugs. They did the arm-around-the-shoulder thing when pretending to be loving parents to pull off some scam. But never have I received a full-on hug like this one.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Collins.” Her voice is so soft, and she smells like a field of daisies. “Thank you for coming.”
“Um . . .” I’m not sure I can articulate any words right now.
“You’re overwhelming her,” Theo warns.
“I am not.” Samantha gasps and steps away from me. “Am I? I don’t mean to.” She looks at Theo. “I’m just happy that?—”
“Hi,” Blake interjects. “My wife has a tendency to not know when to stop talking.” That earns him a glare. “I would love to shake your hand,” he holds up his own, “but I can’t.”
“So dramatic. Come on.” Samantha motions with her head toward the kitchen. “We’ll be back. Do you want something to drink or anything?”
“You know this is my house, right?” Theo’s fingers slide between mine.
“Well, you suck as a host,” his father throws over his shoulder. “The woman could be starving right now, and you wouldn’t know.”
“She looks parched, and I don’t see a glass of water anywhere.” His mother looks around. “I don’t see a plate of food for her to snack on, nothing.” She shakes her head in disapproval.
Theo rolls his eyes, and I lean into him. He bends to kiss my head before leading me to the kitchen, which is right off the family room. “Do you want us to put away the things?”
Samantha looks at him as she starts to unload a bag onto the big beige island with long dark-brown veins all through it. Four wooden stools are tucked up under it at the end that faces the big dining room table, which is a dark wood and seats eight people. I wonder if he’s ever had eight people over at his house for dinner.
“Collins,” Samantha calls, “I’m sorry, I know I raised him better than that. Would you like something to drink?”
“I would actually love some water,” I reply softly and feel Theo’s thumb rub my hand.
“What the hell are you waiting for? Get the woman some water,” she hisses at Theo, making me put my hand to my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.
