Chapter Twenty-Three
JOE
“I'm curious, this just kind of seems out of the blue with Joey coming to stay with you for a few months. Is everything really okay with his mom?” Thea asked, her tone carefully casual.
Ah, hell. No, everything was not okay with my son's mother, but I had promised her I would keep it private.
I knew Vanessa didn't even want to tell me what the hell was going on, but I’d demanded it when she'd asked me if he could stay for a few months.
After hemming and hawing and trying to hold me off, she finally told me.
Vanessa was going to rehab. First, she was spending a full month in an inpatient setting.
Then they would assess if she was ready to transition into something like a halfway house.
She'd actually gotten arrested for an OUI and possession.
The police had pulled her over when she was high as a kite on opiates.
Her lawyer had worked out some kind of deal for her to do treatment in lieu of more time.
Maine had pretty strict OUI laws. Apparently, this was her second offense, which was news to me.
I was furious that she hadn't told me about the first one. I was doing my damnedest to understand that she was trying to do the right thing. I didn't like keeping this a secret from Thea or from my parents.
I held Thea’s gaze and nodded. “Look, I don't have all the details.” Okay, that was true because I really didn't. All I had was a sketch of what was going on. “She just needs to take care of some things. I'd love to have Joey full-time as it is, so I’m glad I can have him now.”
Thea’s eyes searched mine. I sensed she knew I wasn't telling her the whole truth, and I only hoped she would respect why when I could finally explain.
“Is something going on with his mom that you haven't mentioned?” she asked next.
Fuck. “Thea, no.” I tried to tell myself I wasn’t lying. But I was, and my conscience stung.
She blinked and looked down, idly dragging her fork through the syrup on her plate as she nodded. “Okay, well if you need any help, let me know.”
“Of course.”
That uncomfortable conversation ended, and we went on about our day.
The rest of the weekend felt good. If Thea was dwelling on the news about Joey coming to stay with me full-time, she didn't let on.
The only other time we discussed it was in planning whether I should bring him to Boston.
She insisted that didn't make sense and that it was easier for her to come up to Haven’s Bay.
Another weekend later, I convinced myself we were fine.
I took Joey with me to pick Thea up at the train station in Wells.
On the way back to Haven’s Bay, we stopped and had lobster rolls.
I looked over at her just as the wind caught her hair and spun it in a swirl.
She was laughing, and she was beautiful, and everything felt just right.
The girl who’d become the woman I loved was here, my son was here, and we felt like a family.
I could imagine how it was going to be when she moved up here for good.
The weekend was great until I had to leave Saturday night to deal with an emergency call. Thea was going to make sure Joey got to bed. She knew the routine, and it wasn't like there was much to it at his age. I left on the emergency call without any worry.
I came home two hours later to hear him yelling, “You're not my mom! You can't tell me what to do.”
I walked down the hallway to discover Thea standing in Joey’s bedroom doorway. Her eyes met mine briefly, her expression controlled. Joey's face was blotchy.
“What's going on?” I asked, focusing on my son.
“She's trying to make me go to bed,” he whined.
“Yeah, your bedtime was an hour ago, and you should already be asleep.”
“She can't tell me what to do. She's not my mom,” he muttered, his expression sullen.
“Joey, Thea is not trying to be your mom. Just like when you have a babysitter or when you're at Grammy’s, you need to go to bed when it's bedtime. I told you Thea was in charge.”
He burst into tears again, and she quickly backed out of the door. I caught her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before she walked down the hallway.
“Joey,” I began.
He was sitting on his bed and turned his back to me, curling into a ball.
This wasn't the first time he'd had a more emotional moment than I expected.
I knew he didn't really understand what was going on with his mom. I also didn’t know precisely how she explained it to him. I crossed the room to sit on his bed.
“Joey.” His narrow shoulders were shaking when I placed my palm on his back, and my heart twisted sharply.
He finally stopped crying a few minutes later. The tears slowed, the shaking stopped, and he lifted his head. “Will you tell Thea I'm sorry?”
“You can tell her in the morning. You still need to go to bed.”
“I want my mom.” He sniffled.
“I know you do. You have your phone call with her tomorrow afternoon, but it’ll have to wait until then.”
“I don't want to talk to Mom when Thea is here,” he mumbled, putting his forehead on his knees.
“She’ll be leaving in the morning. Even if she's here, it's okay if you talk to your mom.”
“No, because her being here is like her trying to be my mom.”
“Joey, your mom is your mom no matter who you're staying with or who I'm seeing,” I said clearly and slowly.
“Why can't Mom come stay with you if she's having a hard time?”
“Because that's not an option. Your mom and I are not together that way. You know that.”
My heart twisted at the disappointment on his face. After another moment, he angled toward me, and I slipped my arm around his shoulders. He fell asleep right there within a few minutes. I carefully shifted him, getting him situated under the covers. He never woke.
When I walked out to the living room, Thea wasn't there, so I ventured back to the master bedroom. She was in the bathroom washing her face. When she lifted her head, her eyes locked with mine in the mirror. Dabbing at her face with a towel, she said, “I’m fine.”
“He said to tell you he's sorry, but I suggested he apologize in the morning.”
She nodded as she straightened. After she dried her hands, she carefully put the towel on the rack, seeming to move with deliberation.
When she turned to face me, I rested my hands on the counter, caging her in my arms. As I dipped my head to press my forehead against hers, I murmured, “Sorry, he's struggling a little right now.”
“Joe, what's going on with Vanessa?”
When I lifted my head, her gaze was serious. “I can't tell you everything,” I finally said. “Not because I don’t want to, but because she asked me to keep it private. It’s not mine to tell.”
Her eyes softened, and she lifted a hand, smoothing her fingers over the crease between my brows. “Okay,” she whispered. “I understand.”
Relief rippled through me. I kissed her, diving into the fire that I knew was so easy to kindle between us. I needed to forget my worries. That wasn't difficult. Our chemistry burned so hot that touching was like tossing a match in a puddle of gasoline with us.