Chapter 2 #2
“No, but almost,” he says. “And it wouldn’t work anyway.
It's not going to take them long to find out the truth. It’s a small island.
Besides, this is the perfect environment for you to meet the right woman.
Maybe this Lacey person. She seems nice.
She has ample bosoms. She’s clearly interested, and the fact that she's here with her dramatic little boy automatically means she loves children.”
“It'll mean she has children, not that she loves them. And for the record, you know where I stand on the whole marriage thing.”
“I do, and can I say again how ridiculous it is?”
“You can say it all you want but it’s not going to change my mind.
I'm already spreading myself pretty thin between work and my son.
The last thing I'm going to do is add a relationship to that.
I only have so much to give. But if you're so hell-bent on happy endings, maybe there will be a nice single dad for you here.”
“A single dad?” Dominic wrinkles up his face like I just ran a marathon in a heatwave then asked for a hug. “Eww, gross. No way.” He seems to realize what he said and adds, “No offense.”
“None taken,” I tell him. “I was just making a point.”
“Which was?”
“We should agree to not try to set each other up. At least not until Henry’s off to college. Until then, we lock in and raise him right.”
“You’re hopeless,” he says. When I don’t disagree, he adds, “You should let him go over there for a playdate. Henry would totally love that.”
I give him a dirty look. “They have a trampoline.”
“So? Trampolines are a blast.”
“They’re also extremely dangerous. The Benavente Pediatric Association has trampolines on its top five things to avoid list. Especially for a child smaller than the kids he’s jumping with.
That Jax would either crush him or double bounce him right onto their pool deck where he’ll crack his head open. No thank you.”
“You need help.”
“For following the advice of our nation’s foremost experts in childhood injuries? I don’t think so.”
He sighs, and even though I’m not looking at him, I know he’s got some pearl of wisdom to deliver. And I am not in the mood. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t say it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to regulate my emotions at the moment, which is taking every ounce of self-control I’ve got.”
“Fine,” he says, but I can tell by his tone he’s going to say it anyway. “I want you to know that I’m worried about you. You used to be a lot of fun.”
“And look where that got me,” I answer, referring to the fact that I have a son I wasn’t planning. Immediately I feel a rush of guilt. “Not that I'd change anything, because I wouldn't.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Obviously I know you love your son. And that's not the point. The point is that you used to be happy.”
“I am happy. Being Henry's dad is enough for me. And even if it wasn't, my happiness doesn't matter. His does.”
“It is possible for both of you to be happy, you know?”
“I am. I just don't go around singing about it and doing jazz hands,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“Oh, please. You're miserable. You're lonely. And don't try to deny it, because I live with you. I know the truth.”
“The truth is, I'm a single dad. I'm doing the best I can, and at the end of each day, I have nothing left. But I'm fine. No need to worry about me.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I silence him with one finger in the air. “Stop badgering me. Would it be nice if the perfect woman magically appeared, and we lived happily ever after? Sure. But that can wait.”
“For what?”
“For Henry to go off to college.”
“That could be fifteen years from now?!”
“It'll go by real fast. Everyone says so.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Dominic says, “You're hopeless.”
“No, I'm focused.”
“Same thing.”
“I wouldn't talk if I were you. It's not like I see you out there actively seeking Mr. Right.”
“Don't turn this on me,” Dominic says, scowling at me. “We’re talking about you.”
“Well, not anymore, because this conversation is over.”
He starts to say something, but I cut him off with, “Ah-ah-ah. Over.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, and this time fine means he’s going to drop it. Thankfully.
Dominic and I watch Henry, who is now patting his new friend on the shoulder while Jax continues to cry about the world's tiniest scratch on his shin. “God, he’s a good kid,” I say.
“He’s the best,” Dominic agrees.
“Which is why we should snatch him up right now, before the teacher comes out, and keep him home so we can raise him in a loving, nurturing, safe environment where he'll never get bullied and never get his heart broken and—”
“And never experience life in any way, shape, or form?” Dominic says.
“Hey, that's pretty judgmental,” I say. “A lot of homeschool kids go on to have happy, successful lives.”
“Ben, I need you to hear me right now because what I'm about to tell you is important,” Dominic says, putting both hands on my shoulders. “You cannot bubble wrap Henry and keep him safe from every little thing that could happen.”
“Yes, I can,” I answer defiantly.
“It would be very damaging to his confidence if you did,” Dominic says. “He is ready for this and he's going to be fine.”
“So, no homeschooling, then?”
“No homeschooling,” Dominic affirms. “We’re going ahead with the original plan—I’ll stick around until next year to give you time to get used to the whole school routine, then I'm leaving for the big island.”
“Can we not talk about that right now?” I say, my gut tightening at the thought of my brother moving.
We’ve got the perfect thing going—Dominic is a performer at the Paradise Bay Resort, meaning he works evenings, so he’s home all day with Henry.
His dream has always been to be a serious stage actor, which means he has to move to Benavente, or ‘the Big Island,’ where the big theaters are.
I can’t stand the thought of him going, even though it’s his dream.
And not just because of the babysitting, but because he’s not only my best friend, he’s also the only other person in this world who knows Henry the way I do.
He’s the one I talk to about all my parenting worries (and there are a shockingly huge number of worries, like thousands every week, I swear).
“I'm about to send my little boy off into this cruel world for the very first time on his own. The last thing I can do is talk about the future.”
“Right, sorry,” Dominic says. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Thank you.” I smile at my son, who is now doing that magic trick where you make your thumb disappear for Jax. It seems to work too, because he finally stops wailing. “Would you look at that? He's such a sweet little guy.” A lump forms in my throat and I clear it, but it comes right back.
At that exact moment, his teacher, Ms. Kahn—that's right, as in Genghis—comes walking out onto the playground and rings a bell. “Okay, children, everyone line up in front of me, please!”
“Nope. Not doing this. You grab his backpack. I'll go get him.”
I take a step toward the playground, but my brother’s hand on the back of my T-shirt collar stops me in my tracks. “It's kindergarten,” Dominic says. “He'll be fine.”
But what if he won't be?