39. Sean
THIRTY-NINE
SEAN
Mikey blew through the front door, red-faced with excitement as he carried an armload of Christmas presents. “Dad!” he screamed, beaming at me as I stood up from where I was sitting on the couch.
I hugged him, laughing. “Did you have a good time?”
“I went in the halfpipe!”
“Whoa.” My brows shot up. “Wish I could have seen that.”
“It was awesome .”
I grinned and glanced up to see Melody carrying his bag through my front door. She placed it down next to our shoes and nodded at me.
“Say goodbye to your mom, buddy,” I told him.
Mikey whirled around and hugged Melody. She smiled softly as she combed her fingers through his hair. When they parted, my ex-wife met my gaze. “Did you have a good holiday?”
“Not really,” I answered.
Her smile was sad. “There’s always next year.”
We spoke for a few minutes, and then I watched her head back to the car and drive away. While I closed the door, I mulled over that sad smile. She hadn’t looked surprised, nor did she seem annoyed or bitter.
It looked like pity. Like resignation.
“Todd said he could sign me up for ski lessons next year with someone who can teach me how to do tricks. Can I, Dad?”
I joined Mikey in the living room and slumped down on the couch. “That depends,” I said. “Are Todd and your mom planning on renting another cabin at the ski resort?”
“I think so,” he said, pulling a remote control car out of his box of gifts.
I smiled at my son. “You haven’t mentioned those,” I said, nodding to the wrapped boxes under the tree.
Mikey shot me a mischievous smile, then crawled toward the presents to read the name tags I’d stuck on them. “They have my name on them.”
“Open ‘em up.”
I watched my son tear into his presents and couldn’t help the smile from spreading over my mouth. He shouted in excitement at the new video game, holding it above his head as he howled. The robotics kit that was supposed to be for kids three years older than him earned me an awed, silent stare. I laughed, and a bit of the coldness that had spread through my chest over the past few days began to dissipate.
We spent the day together, and I almost felt like myself again. That evening, as I shut the lights off downstairs and made my way to my bedroom, I paused at Mikey’s door and listened to his steady breathing. It was good to have him home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d given up too much by letting Melody have every Christmas.
I owed it to Mikey—to myself—to fight to heal the old, crooked wounds inside me.
Going through the motions to get ready for bed, I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.
And I thought of Lizzie.
The warmth in my chest from a good day with my son was a poor substitute for the feeling of being next to her. She’d opened my eyes to new possibilities, and I’d responded by being too aggressive and then pushing her away when things got tough.
I’d done her wrong.
And I wanted to fix it—I just didn’t know how.
New Year’s Eve had never been my favorite holiday. It had always felt like the first glimpse of the finish line at the end of a marathon. I’d never felt the hope and possibility of the turning of the calendar page; I’d only felt exhaustion and relief at having made it through another holiday season.
This year wasn’t any different. I was wrung out and putting on a good face all through the day and into the evening, when I loaded Mikey up in the truck and drove to the Butlers’ place. Mrs. B opened the door and greeted us with wide smiles and tight hugs, then ushered us inside where we were promptly presented with sparkly party hats and drinks. I got a glass of champagne, and Mikey got one of bubbly grape juice. He ran off to join the pack of kids roaming the halls, and I went with Mrs. B to the living room where the adults had gathered.
My eyes scanned the guests, even though I knew she wouldn’t be here. I don’t know how I knew, but from the moment I’d stepped inside the house, I was certain I wouldn’t see Lizzie tonight. It was almost like I could sense her presence in the air; it was colder when she was away.
“Glad you decided to come,” Aaron said, clapping me on the back. I lifted my glass and clinked it against his, and Aaron squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll always be welcome here. You know that, right?”
My throat was tight, so all I did was nod.
“Let’s enjoy tonight,” he said.
“Yeah. Thanks, Aaron,” I replied. And I meant it. I was grateful that he was still here, still welcoming, and still my friend. From the look in his eyes, I knew he understood what I meant.
Aaron dipped his chin in response, and then went to speak to one of his uncles. I took a seat beside Mr. Butler, who nodded at me.
When the silence stretched, I asked the question I already knew the answer to: “Is Lizzie coming?”
Mr. Butler gave me a long, steady look. Finally, when I was just about ready to squirm out of the interaction, he shook his head. “She’s spending the evening with her kids,” he told me.
I nodded.
“Her mother and I called her today to wish her a Happy New Year,” Mr. Butler went on. “We had a long talk.”
“Oh?” I asked, not sure where the older man was taking the conversation. The silence between us stretched.
“Felt like I finally got my little girl back,” he finally replied. “The one who was stubborn and hard-headed while she smiled the whole time. Just waiting for the smile to come back.”
My throat tightened. “She’s one of a kind,” I replied.
Mr. Butler gave me a long look and finally nodded. Then, as I breathed a sigh of relief, he shifted the conversation to my new job with Grant, and the topic of Lizzie—and her absence—was set aside.
It was an evening of good cheer and pleasant conversation, and it made me feel like dying. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d hoped to see Lizzie here tonight. How much I wanted to pull her aside and find the right combination of words to fix the mess I’d made of our relationship.
How could a week without Lizzie feel like such an eternity?
The minutes bled into hours, and champagne and drinks flowed freely for everyone else while they tasted bitter on my tongue. The kids bounced off the walls, excited to be up hours past their bedtimes to ring in the New Year. I tried my best to ignore the itch under my skin, but as eleven o’clock became eleven thirty, my thoughts swirled and swirled around one person.
The woman I loved.
Lizzie.
It wasn’t until the cold air slapped my face that I realized I was outside. And then I was in my truck, peeling off down the street toward the woman who’d made me remember that life wasn’t just worth living; it was worth celebrating.
I couldn’t keep hibernating during the holidays every year, and it wasn’t just because I was letting Mikey down. I was living a smaller life than I should. I was keeping myself tied down to old hurts, just like Margaret had pointed out. I was letting my father’s actions, my mother’s passing, and Melody’s betrayal get in the way of my happiness.
And right now, happiness had a face. It had deep brown eyes and a smile full of sunlight. Two cute dimples that only showed up when her grin was real. It had curves and soft lips, and it was the only woman I’d ever fallen head over heels in love with.
I’d tried to fight it. I’d tried to date women who were perfect and not-so-perfect for me on paper. I’d tried to pursue her while I ignored the gnawing ache in my chest.
But now I knew the truth.
The only way to get her back was to drop to my knees and beg her for forgiveness. I had to tell her what was in my heart. Prove to her that she’d changed my life—that she’d changed me .
I’d met my match, and I wasn’t ready to let her go.