16. Ben #3
Giselle and I started laughing, which made Veronica screech along with us, but Benny looked confused.
“Huh? I don’t get it.”
“Ancient meme,” Giselle said, taking a seat across from him, leaving me the head of the table. “From before your time.”
“Like when they invented the lightbulb?”
“Watch it,” I said. “One day you’ll be this old, too.”
“Yeah, but in like a million years.”
Natalie cleared her throat. “This is a dinner, so there is meant to be food, yes?”
That was directed at me. “I’ll go get everything off the warmer. Jun— Benny, would you mind getting everyone their drinks?”
“I can do that!”
I was grinning as I went to get the food. Dinner was off to a pleasant start. Hopefully, it would continue that way.
It wasn’t long before we were all seated, the steaming dishes on several serving mats, and everyone with their drink of preference.
Giselle only had water, but she pulled an Ensure out of her purse and put it beside her glass.
When Benny was three, Millia gave him some of those when he was recovering from the flu.
It seemed Giselle was holding true to her word about doing better for herself.
That made me a lot happier than it should have.
But whatever. Life was grim enough, so I would take whatever little flashes of joy I could find.
And seeing real-time proof that Giselle was going to be okay was definitely a joy.
“So, are you looking forward to any movies that are coming out?” Giselle asked, her attention on Benny.
I loved that she so naturally included my son in conversation and was genuinely interested in what he had to say.
I didn’t think I could ever date anyone who disrespected my son or treated him as lesser.
Not that Giselle and I were dating. She was just visiting my house to tell me some important news. I shouldn’t be getting ahead of myself.
But still... It kind of felt like a date. In fact, if Natalie wasn’t there, there would have been no other way to classify it.
“I’m glad you asked,” Benny said with a mock gravitas that made me have to hide my mouth behind my hand so I didn’t laugh. The kid had a sense of humor, and he certainly didn’t get that from me.
I half listened to him talk about the movie he was looking forward to, but I was caught up in nostalgia as I recalled other times throughout his young life when he’d been hilarious.
I was blessed to have a son like him. He had every right to be a little terror after what he’d survived, but he was a wonderful, loving child.
One day, I hoped to be a father worthy of him and Veronica.
But for the first time since I’d taken over as their sole guardian, I finally felt that I was moving forward to that goal.
Did I still have a lot to learn? God, yeah. I was still making far too many mistakes, still trying to catch up on so much ground I had lost. But I was catching up.
And that was largely because of Giselle.
It wasn’t only the art class she’d recommended to Benny, but also that she was such a reliable source of support for him.
My son had really grown into himself from the start of the school year.
Hell, he even asked to stop being called Junior.
Some fathers would have been upset about that, but I was proud my son was finding his own identity.
He’d already accomplished so much in such a short time, and I couldn’t wait to see what he could do in two years, three years, or even by high school. The boy was incredible.
I hoped he never felt anything less than that.
“And what about you?” Giselle asked. I thought she was talking to me or Natalie, but no, her attention was on Veronica.
“Gabbah!” Veronica responded confidently, in true toddler fashion.
“Ah, I see,” Giselle replied, like that made complete and total sense. “Tell me, are you a fan of Miss Rachel?”
My daughter’s face lit up, and I found myself grinning to mimic her.
“Hewwo! Me rashu!”
“I thought you might be. I think she’s just the bee’s knees. Did you know that bees have six knees?”
Veronica squealed in response, which I chose to take as yes, she was actually an expert in the anatomy of all Italian honeybees.
The two of them proceeded to have an in-depth conversation about the academic depth of the YouTube show, with Natalie and Benny occasionally piping in.
I love that my son wasn’t jealous of his sister dominating the conversation for a while, especially since about ninety percent of her communication was incomprehensible sounds.
God, it was like we were a real family. An honest-to-God, Norman Rockwell-esque, Americana family sitting around the dining room eating a meal together. It was something I never thought I could possibly have again.
But still, I couldn’t get ahead of myself.
It didn’t matter how many times my brain reminded me of that, I always forgot it a few seconds later.
Was it so wrong to let myself get lost in the fantasy?
Just for a little while? I was happy. My kids were happy.
Natalie seemed to be enjoying herself, as did Giselle.
Maybe, just this once, I could get lost in the joy.
And that’s exactly what I did. I pushed our trauma to the back of my mind and enjoyed the jokes and the conversation. My heart swelled as Veronica demanded to be let out of her highchair in that cute little language of hers, only to sit in Giselle’s lap.
I was able to drink in the teacher’s adorable blush as Natalie complimented her, saying that Veronica was quite picky about people, only for Giselle to demurely say she was good with children.
I bragged about my son’s reading habits, and Benny spent a good twenty minutes talking about the difference between frills and crests of dinosaurs in the Cretaceous era.
I didn’t want dinner to end. It was almost magical, like we were in a bubble outside of reality that would pop the moment any of us moved.
But there was only so long one could expect two young children to sit around a table after they were done eating.
So, all too soon, the kids were washing up, while Natalie grabbed their overnight bags.
I had no expectations of Giselle staying for more than an hour or so, but I had the feeling that I might need time to recover from whatever news she had.
And recovering would go a lot faster if I didn’t have to worry about traumatizing my already traumatized kids.
I also didn’t want to risk them overhearing anything.
Neither of them knew the details of that night.
That wasn’t really a conversation I felt was necessary for either of us.
“I’ll see you Monday at school,” Giselle said, walking them to the door like she was a natural part of their life. And I had to admit, she did seem to fit in like a puzzle piece that had been missing and I hadn’t even known it.
“I like her,” Natalie said beside me as she handed me the kids’ overnight bags to carry to her car. “She is good.”
A simple sentence, comprised of monosyllabic words, and yet that was really the long and the short of it, wasn’t it?
“I like her too, I think.”
“What do you mean, ‘I think?’ This is the thing you know.”
I gave her a look until the kids and Giselle were all the way out the door. “It’s complicated.”
“What about it is complicated? She is special. Your kids like her. You like her.”
Although I appreciated Natalie’s straightforwardness, there were occasions where her lack of nuance made me itch uncomfortably.
“Please, don’t be pedantic with me right now.
I’ve already had the love of my life. I found my happily ever after.
And because I trusted the wrong person, I lost all of that.
I still love my wife. Even if she’s gone.
And I don’t think that will ever change. ”
“Who says it should change?”
I blinked rapidly at her. There were a lot of things I had anticipated she might say, but that wasn’t one of them. “Pardon?”
“I said, who says it should change? Did Giselle? Because if she did, then fuck her. But I’m willing to bet she’s said nothing of the sort.” When I continued to stare at her, Natalie grumbled in frustration. “No one expects you to stop loving your wife. She will always have a place in your heart.
“But that doesn’t mean there will not be other parts of your heart with free space for someone like Giselle.
Maybe you are not ready, and maybe she is not the one for those extra spaces, but they are there.
Pretending that you must be condemned to a life of solitude is not what your wife would have wanted.
I didn’t know her, but my sister wrote often of how kind and loving she was.
Can you look into my eyes and tell me she would be happy about you being alone forever? ”
“I…”
That was not a line of questioning that I had expected from Natalie, and suddenly I found myself facing a question I had never really thought about.
I’d always believed I deserved every single ounce of misery I was experiencing because, as an alpha, as a husband, I had failed every single person who had depended on me.
I had responsibilities I had trained more than half my life for, incredibly important responsibilities, but I hadn’t been enough to keep them.
But would my wife agree?
I thought of Millia’s soft smile, her kind eyes. She always jumped at the chance to help anyone in need, grew food for everyone, made little lotions and candles specifically attuned to the recipient, because she knew so much about them.
Would she be happy with me living like this?
Fuck, what a loaded question.
I wouldn’t be able to fully wrap my head around it while standing in the hallway, especially with my kids waiting for Natalie, and Giselle about to come in and tell me everything not-Charles had said to her.
“You have a good night now, Natalie.”