FORTY-TWO
Iknew this would happen. I still did what he asked of me because...how can I say no to him? I love him so much. Too much.
And in the end, just like I imagined, he let me go because he didn’t believe it.
How could he? It’s his family, and I can’t compete with that...
“Mummy?” Dylan calls me, pulling on my sleeve. “I’m tired,” he whines.
We’ve been walking around the city for an hour, and I honestly don’t know what to do. Will he be waiting by my car at his building? Or by my house? Will he be fully out of my life from now on? Will they join forces to take Dylan from me?
I shiver in fear just from the thought. It feels like if I make a decision, it will be final, and I am too triggered to face him and too scared to lose him.
“I’m sorry, baby. Let’s go sit down a little bit, okay?” I pull him up onto my arms and carry him to the bench across the street.
“Mummy?” I hum in response, holding him to my side while he plays with the ends of my hair. “Why did we have to leave?”
“I am so sorry, baby. We wanted to give you the best Christmas, but things didn’t go as planned. Liam’s parents don’t get along with me. I am so, so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He sniffles. “Can we go back?”
“I–I don’t know,” I confess. “It’s up to Liam. How about Mummy calls a cab so we go home, for now? Then we can talk to Liam later and maybe visit him again.” He nods, burying his head into my side.
It’s hard to keep my composure while my brain keeps attacking me with old memories. Seeing Mason after all of these years has opened up the hole I have been trying so hard to fill.
He was just there like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t strip me of my dignity and step on it afterwards. Like he didn’t vanish into thin air and leave me to pick up the pieces of everything he destroyed.
At that moment, it felt like someone opened my chest and squeezed my heart to ashes.
And by now, after the confusion that I saw in his eyes has worn off, Liam is probably siding with them, blaming me for everything.
We’ll need to know which one of you will ask for full custody.
No other words could scare me as much as those. I’d still rather go through all the pain again than lose my son. They took everything from me that night. I lost the person I was, the person I loved most in life, and even most of my family. Knowing I have Dylan has been my rock, my strength to go forward, and I won’t let them take that away from me as well.
I’ll run away again if I have to.
Warm fingers brush my soaked cheeks, and I open my eyes to find Dylan looking at me with a miserable expression. My poor baby, having to go through all of this and constantly watching me break down. He deserves better than this.
“Don’t be sad, Mummy.” Dylan climbs onto my lap, hugging me. “It’s Christmas. We have to be happy!”
I let out a shaky laugh at his attempt to cheer me up. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Willow?” a male voice calls from a distance.
I freeze, afraid of looking up to see who it is. At least, only until Dylan shrieks the person’s name.
“Athur!”
He jumps off my lap and runs to my Portuguese and Literature professor. Well, former professor since the semester has finished.
Arthur ruffles Dylan’s hair before crouching down to his height. My son wastes no time jumping into his arms, and he picks him up, unfazed. Then he slowly comes my way, and as the distance closes in, I see a frown forming on his face. Probably due to my bloodshot eyes and swollen face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting down next to me.
I shake my head, not wanting to talk about, it but Dylan beats me to it. “We were at Dad Liam’s for Christmas. Some persons appeared and were mean to Mummy. She cried, and we left.”
Well, that’s a light way to put it. My eyes blur, but I dab them, not wanting to cry again.
“Is that all that happened?” he asks, sceptical of my silence.
Doesn’t he know kids are too pure to lie? He just doesn’t know the details that made me so upset.
“He was there,” I whisper.
“As in...”
“Yes.” I nod. “He’s Liam’s brother.”
I look at him, waiting for a reaction, but there’s none. That’s when I remember that he already knew everything. He was the first one to know.
“They were shocked to see me there and blamed me for everything right away,” I mumble.
At that, Arthur’s attention snaps back to mine, his eyes fiery with rage.
“They what?” His tone is borderline menacing.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to get into it in detail.” I tilt my chin down towards Dylan.
He nods but keeps silent for a while, looking at the street and the scarce people that wander around. Mostly families that are going for an early stroll before Christmas lunch or others that are supposed to be on their way to spend it with someone else.
After a little while, he finally asks, “Why didn’t you go home?”
“There’s no one there today,” I confess. “And I’m afraid that a certain someone could be there, waiting for me or might show up later.”
“I see,” he mutters. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
I know. Oh god, what am I going to do?
Upon seeing the panic in my eyes, his expression softens. His dark brown eyes swirl with concern, and he offers, “Well, how about you come and have lunch with me?”
Dylan looks at us for the first time, still on Arthur’s lap. And from the looks of it, he is silently begging me to say yes.
But I can’t.
“I couldn’t intrude.”
“I’ll be by myself today,” he admits shyly. “Your company would definitely make the day better, and I’ll take you home as soon as you want. Yeah?”
I hesitate for a second, but then slowly nod. There’s no harm in accepting his help, right? He has proved time and time again that this is a harmless relationship—a friendship. And up until very recently, I’ve lacked those. While I’m grateful for Ethan and Hazel, the connection that developed between us is different.
I nod again, and Arthur doesn’t waste any time in helping me up and guiding me to his car, all the while carrying Dylan in his arms.
I swear, my kid takes advantage of people the best way he can. He makes them adore him, unable to resist his cuteness.
“Where were you, if you’re just heading home now?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me. “Uh, only if you want to tell me,” I add, blushing.
We walk side by side at a leisurely pace. The Christmas lights and decorations are everywhere, surrounding us. Dylan’s eyes sweep around the street in awe of the sight, and even I appreciate it. It makes me feel slightly lighter.
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “I went to my sister’s grave. I always do on the holidays; she used to love them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“Don’t worry.”
It turns out his house is within walking distance, taking less than ten minutes to arrive. But from here, I know the cemetery is at least an hour walk, leaving me wondering about his need for walking so much on such a day. Is he…lonely? He must be.
Inside his house, I notice it is open-concept and am immediately hit with that woodsy scent that follows him everywhere. The decoration is simple and modern, but the dark furniture gives it an edge, just like him.
Fortunately, the tall windows counter it, allowing sunlight to stream through. It’s somehow balanced, and even though it’s my first time here, I feel comfortable.
“Welcome,” he mumbles, closing the door behind us. “The house is half messy because I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I have enough food for the three of us. Let me just heat it.”
With that, he finally places Dylan down and heads to the kitchen, still in plain sight. My boy, instead of clinging to me, rushes up to the couch and sighs in relief. I let him be for a while since he no longer seems too concerned with me.
“Do you want help?” I ask Arthur, hoping I can occupy my mind with something like setting the table.
“Nah, go and sit down for a bit.”
Begrudgingly, I obey and snuggle up with Dylan on the couch. After a few minutes, he calls us to sit down by the table, presenting us with a generous platter of roasted lamb and potatoes, plus a pot of rice and a bowl of salad.
“This was all for yourself?” I ask, shocked.
He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, I–I don’t like cooking too often, even though I’m pretty good at it. So, I tend to do it in big quantities, hoping for it to usually last me a day or two.”
“That’s clever,” I comment. “Especially when you have a demanding, hungry kid and little time to cook or bake,” I joke.
Dylan sticks his tongue out, and I fake glare at him, nodding for him to start eating his food. Throughout the entirety of lunch, Arthur keeps the conversation light-hearted and constantly interacts with Dylan. It has a huge calming effect on me.
After the meal, Dylan begs for a movie, and Arthur gives in right away.
Truth is, I don’t want to go home either. At least, not yet.
I know I’m avoiding the inevitable, but after the stress from earlier this morning, I need to set my head straight before I can face whatever is heading my way. And if I so much as look at Liam, I’ll break down.
That’s why we stay and watch the cartoon movies that are playing on the TV. We get engrossed in it, and time flies by. I only realise I’ve been here for too long when the light inside dims into an orange hue. The sun is setting.
Dylan has fallen asleep on my lap long ago, and Arthur sits down on a leather recliner, right next to us.
“Arthur?” I whisper. “I think it’s time I head home.”
He nods, standing and gently scooping Dylan up in his arms, allowing me to get up.
“Let’s get you home,” he whispers back.
Just when we start to walk, my phone rings, and I hastily pick it up, trying not to wake Dylan.
“Where are you?” Liam pants on the other side of the call.
“I—” I freeze. Of course, he was going to call. What do I do now? Because I don’t know if I have the guts to hear what he has to say to me.
“I’m so fucking worried; why aren’t you home? I’ve been knocking and calling for hours, and you’re not here.”
Worried?
“I–we’re fine.” I settle on those words as my eyes blur.
“Come back home, please,” he pleads. “We need to talk about this.”
“I can’t,” I admit in a shaky voice. “Not today, please.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “But please come back home. It’s getting late, and I’m worried. I’ll leave.”
Why is he being so kind? Is he not mad?
“Thank you,” I stutter.
“I’ll wait, Willow. I’ll wait.”
“I–”
“Text me when you get home so I’m not worried.”
“O-of course,” I mumble.
He hangs up, and I sigh in relief.
“Everything alright?” Arthur asks, bringing my attention back to him and my sleeping kid.
“Yes.” I smile weakly. “It will be.”
I’ll make sure of it.
He carries Dylan to the car, strapping him down safely next to me in the back. The drive is quick, only around twenty minutes until we get to my house. For most of the ride, we keep silent, seemingly with the understanding that I need it.
And, of course, my brain keeps dragging me back to think of Liam and all of my fears. After everything and how passionate we were last night, it’s safe to say I’m ruined for any other man that walks the earth.
At this point, it no longer matters if he decides to never look me in the eye; if he chooses to just be there for Dylan—god, I hope he does—I’ll never be able to get over him.
He’s my beginning, my middle, and my end. Liam is not just part of my heart, he is my heart, and I will love that man until the day I die.
“We’re here,” Arthur announces.
“Thank you, for everything,” I say sincerely.
“Always,” he states. “I mean it, Willow. If you ever need someone…I’m a friend. Please don’t hesitate.”
I nod and smile. He seems pleased with my answer, getting out of the car and rounding it to open the door for me. I unbuckle my kid and transfer him to my neck, he stirs, slightly opening his eyes and automatically clutching my neck, burying his head in my chest. It tells me right away, it’ll be one of those nights, where we’ll only rest if we’re attached.
With a quick goodnight, I step into the darkened house, walking upstairs straight into my bedroom. I’m exhausted, and my eyes feel heavy but I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep that much.
The anxiety has lessened but I still see his face every time I close my eyes. He’s walking around, free to do whatever. Free to hurt other women and not pay for what he’s done or might do.
It’s unbelievably unfair to be blamed for something I didn’t want.
Why do we keep being the ones asking for it? Why are men able to get away with their actions, by blaming them on us?
This has to stop. Men need to be accountable for their actions and for what happens inside their minds.
I just hope, in my heart, that Liam sees me and understands I would never do what his parents accused me of. I just hope he sees the truth and believes me.
Because at this point, I don’t know if I could survive the world without him in my life.