Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Aaron
“Drinking alone on a Wednesday night?”
The voice drifts through the jukebox music. At first, I think it might be a hindrance to me tonight. They let me out of the hospital—okay, I browbeat them into letting me out of the hospital—and now I plan to get stumbling drunk before I head home and fall into a dreamless sleep.
Anything to forget what happened.
But then Levi swings onto the barstool beside me and signals to the bartender for another round. We sit in companionable silence for a little while, both of us having ended up here on our own. Maybe Levi has demons of his own to chase tonight.
“Double shot of tequila,” he orders.
His order surprises me—stronger than I would have thought for a dad of two. The unflappable superintendent who runs things with a pretty tight fist. Maybe there’s more to this family than I thought.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask as two shots land on the wooden counter in front of him. “This is hardly your hangout.”
“A dive bar?” Levi laughs. “You’re right. Not my scene. But I had a hunch that I’d find you here tonight.”
“Remind me to keep my secrets closer to the vest,” I mutter.
I’d told no one that I was coming to the bar after ending my shift tonight.
“Nobody ratted you out,” Levi says, reading my mind. “But you did throw me for a little bit of a loop. Checked the usual places: corner booth at the diner, laundromat, grocery store. This was the one place nobody suspected.”
“And the one place where I could drown my sorrows.”
“This whole sappy thing doesn’t really become you. You were much more handsome before.” Levi wrinkles his nose. “Don’t tell the guys I said that.”
“You’re her brother,” I remind him. “Maybe you being here isn’t the smartest thing for your relationship with Paige.”
“Paige is complicated.” He hesitates as he thinks. “She thinks she knows what she wants—the safe route, the one where she doesn’t get hurt, and doesn’t get Noah hurt.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“The problem is that she doesn’t seem to understand that it will hurt them if she doesn’t take a chance. Their lives will never be so full or so rich if she spurns everyone who loves and cares about her.”
For the first time tonight, I chance a look at Levi. His gaze is deep in his now-empty shot glass, his shoulders hunched over the bar. From the looks of it, he’s run an exasperated hand through his hair one too many times.
“I thought you were always on her side,” I say gently.
“I thought that I would be, but I’m also starting to think that my sister is incapable of seeing clearly. And you’re right—I’m her brother.” He takes a deep breath. “When our dad died, I took responsibility for our family. I’m still doing it even now. And I have to do what’s best for her.”
I say nothing, my heart thrumming like a plucked guitar string.
Could he possibly mean that he’s on my side in all of this? That he thinks I could be that missing piece that would make her happy?
“When we met,” he continues, “I didn’t want to give you her phone number. But she looked so damn happy at the wedding. Then, she let you take her home. I didn’t know—don’t want to know—what it meant.”
“Nothing,” I say, sparing him the mental image. “At least, not that night.”
He throws me a dirty look. “Any mention of my sister in bed is off-limits.”
“I’m just saying that we didn’t go straight home and hop in bed together. Not that night. No need to question your sister’s judgment. Or my motivations.”
“You said you wouldn’t add to Paige’s complicated life. But here we are, drinking together and hoping for a new outcome.” He signals to the bartender to bring another round. He downs his tequila while I sip my bourbon.
“I want your sister in my life,” I finally say, voicing the deepest desire in my heart. The one that’s echoed in my mind since my family showed up in Crown Hill unexpectedly.
My mom was adamant that I needed to work things out with Paige. Based on what, I have no idea. She said she could tell that Paige had changed me for the better. Said she could tell from the way Paige looked at me in that bed that she was smitten with me.
Ma had said it was only a matter of time before we admitted that we were in love with each other. She didn’t care that Paige had a son. She didn’t care that my bringing a girlfriend into the family would alter our dynamics. We were loud and loving; what was one more person in the mix?
“What I want to know is what you’re doing here in the bar,” Levi says, interrupting the moving picture in my mind of Paige with my mom and dad. My brothers and sister.
“You know,” I say, sliding off the barstool. “She asked me to let her think. To give her space. But I think I’ve done just about enough of that.”
Levi lets a small smile surface, before wiping it away, and looks me in the eye. “Paige is, and will always be, my sister first. She deserves happiness more than anyone I know. Deliver it.”
Then he swivels on his barstool and lets his attention rest on whatever game is on the television screen behind the counter. He zones out, signals to the bartender to close out his tab, and waits for it to process.
He came just for me. To deliver a message.
And now, I need to make good on my promise.
Paige has had plenty of time to process what is going on between us. This tug-of-war with my heart isn’t healthy for either of us—and definitely not for Noah.
I have the performance of my life tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.
* * *
Paige
“Noah,” I call from the kitchen, hoping that he will choose this moment to be at least a little independent.
Of all the things I could have taken a day off work for, this is the last one I actually want to attend. I would rather work a triple shift on the emergency unit than go to this.
But Noah deserves the same experiences as his friends and classmates. Being a single mom is difficult, but not in the way most people think. Yes, it means that all responsibility falls on me: housekeeping, daycare costs, and disciplining.
It also means that I have to play the part of both mother and father at times, making him feel like he isn’t missing anything by having only one parent. He is doubly loved, doubly cared for, all by one person with her own crumbling life.
And today, I have to play this out for him and his teacher.
Levi could have helped me make this easier, but he was very evasive about whether he could attend the Fathers Nurture Too celebration. I imagine that he had a flashback of a similar event when his kids were little. And he has to attend twice as many events.
I scoop Noah up and kiss his chubby cheeks sadly. We may not have James anymore, but we have each other. I’ve always known I could love Noah enough for both of us. When he was born, I was surprised by the intensity of my love for him.
We buckle up in the car and head to the daycare. Noah babbles in the backseat until we arrive. As I always do, I make up conversations that we could be having. Conversations that we’ll be having in just a few years.
The school went all out for this celebration, more than I had expected. The entrance was wrapped in streamers and framed by a red-and-white balloon arch. Noah ran toward it, his sticky hands reaching for round latex balloons.
“Noah!” his teacher calls to him from her spot by the door, a clipboard in hand. She turns her attention to me as Noah toddles into the building. “We expected you earlier!”
I don’t have time to figure out what she means because she’s already moving on to greet the next family.
This family has what Noah does not: a dad, dressed as a green bean. Hopefully, Noah doesn’t notice that he’s got no vegetables.
We take seats on the carpet squares in the front of the room, below the makeshift stage. Noah claps at the music in the background, happy just to be here. He plops down in my lap, and we clap together.
Finally, the teacher comes to the center stage and announces the start of the program.
“We’re lucky to be joined by so many amazing dads who are here to teach us all how important it is to eat our vegetables! You can’t have a healthy plate without veggies,” she laughs, not in the least bit embarrassed by the silliness of the event. “Let’s start the music, shall we?”
The first vegetable comes on stage, does a little dance with his son, and then leaves to sit in the audience.
The second vegetable comes on stage alone. He’s wrapped his torso in orange duct tape, and a wad of green yarn perches precariously on his head. I guess it counts as a carrot? He awkwardly lurches to the middle of the stage, his eyes searching for someone in the crowd.
Noah notices who it is before I do.
He leaps from my lap and crawls onto the stage, where Aaron catches him and wraps him in his strong arms. Noah laughs uncontrollably, a deep belly laugh that I haven’t heard in a few weeks. Hamming it up, Aaron continues to dance and sing about eating vegetables while Noah laughs.
This is the picture that I had in my mind all these years. A man who would do anything for my son: let him color in his tattoos, feed him his favorite snacks, dress up like a carrot. In everything Aaron has done, he has tried to show me—to show Noah—that he is loved.
Wasn’t that exactly what I said I wanted? Stability and love for my son?
Yes, I have feelings for Aaron, too. More feelings than I want to admit. It isn’t just about sex for me, though that is an excellent reason to spend a little time with him.
Watching him with Noah, my heart melts. Wrapped up in this one simple, ridiculous moment, I can see an entire future. The three of us—a small family. A firefighter and a nurse, a stable life for Noah.
Neither of us is going to jeopardize this with drugs or alcohol. Aaron even quit smoking.
The song ends. Aaron and Noah climb down from the stage and debate where to sit. He looks at me first, uncertainty on his face about how I might feel. I had no idea he was coming.