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I start to cry as the words pour out, “I do, of course I still love you.”
“Thank God,” he exhales and wraps his arms around me.
I bury myself in his chest, muttering everything. “And you’re right, you’ve never told me no and you’ve always been there. You always show up, you didn’t have words but your actions with my family, with me and the stupid podcasts and you are the best dad ever to the boys, it’s easy to gush about you and I don’t think anyone will compare, especially not physically I mean look at you, ugh, and I’m sure I’ll always love you but—”
I push Adam back.
He frowns but his voice is gentle, “Hey, no. No buts? What do you mean, but?”
“But sure we’ll always still love each other, but this, us, together, let’s be honest here, what are we thinking…we haven’t gotten along in years. Years!” I look at the kitchen and gesture in that direction as I pull fully out of his grasp. I remember all the painful recent moments. “Adam, all we did was avoid each other or say passive aggressive comments in passing, we stopped kissing, touching, talking, what if we’re right back there in a year? Two years?”
“I will never let us go back there. Never let me go back there.” He steps toward me and I don’t fight him, but I do tense up.
He talks fast, like he’s trying to keep up with my spiral. “Susan, I hated my days. Not my mornings with you or my evenings with our boys. Definitely not nights in bed with you. My days. The blueprints, the trips, the calls, spreadsheets, the meeting after meeting after meeting. All of that’s gone. That’s why I can breathe again. That’s why I am me again. Except not really, because I can’t be me without you.”
I huff out a defeated scoff. “But I make you miserable! Say it was your job all you want but it was my plans, my goals for us, my calendars and nagging and bothering you—”
“No,” he pleads. “It wasn’t. It was what was on the calendar. It was that our jobs took over our entire lives. That I couldn’t even prioritize you or the boys, I couldn’t find time or make time for anything. A date night with you, a camping trip with Jonathan, things I sat and thought about, by the way, but could never do because I was drowning in stupid work.”
“And you won’t be drowning in your workshop? Your thriving new business?” I ask but it comes out sounding like an accusation.
“No, I won’t. I’m in charge of the schedule and the clients and all of it. Most of the work is for friends of friends in Montana. And I don’t want to expand or scale or figure out how to produce mass market tables. I want to live. To just be. To be with you and the boys.”
“But I’ll still be at work. And I’ll still be pushing and going, because that’s just who I am. Toxic Achiever. Uptight, Type A me with my calendars and my lists, I mean, hello! All I do is bother everyone, remember? Everything about me drives you nuts, did you forget that?”
“I think you forgot.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think you forgot a lot and I’m going to remind you.”
“Adam, I—” I try to stop him, I’m so spent, so over everything. But he charges on, pulling me to the couch with him.
“Remember our first Christmas together, when we were engaged, you told off my dad, right at the dinner table?” I sniff as I frown. His dad? What is he talking about? “No one had ever stood up for me like that before to him or Josh or anyone. Ever. Not even Uncle Lance. My mom was terrified at the meal but before we left she whispered to me, ‘hold onto her.’ And I told her I would and I meant it. In fact, did you know I planned that mistletoe thing at your Dad’s Christmas party?”
“What mistletoe thing?”
“I needed to kiss you more than I needed to freaking breathe oxygen, Susan. I faked that I had to go to the bathroom so that you’d get stuck waiting under the mistletoe.”
“You did?”
He nods. “I think I knew that night that I was never going to find the loophole. I was so mad because you thought it was for show meanwhile I was desparate for you. And I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember maybe five or so years ago, it was the last interview we did together. You were telling the host about…” he has to stop and gather himself. My tears start up again as I watch him hold his back. He sucks in a deep breath and goes on, “You were talking me up again, but it wasn’t about stupid work, you were gushing, I mean gushing, about what a great dad I was.”
His voice keeps cracking and his knuckles are white on his knees.
“And I had to excuse myself because I was starting to cry, Susan. To cry in public! On YouTube! Not just because you were proud of me, or because it sounded unreal hearing it with the shit example I’d had of a father growing up, but because the Susan Canton, the best mother —I mean, you have to know how rare it is for a set of parents in our position to never miss a single thing for their kid? For both of us to be at every game, Christmas program, teacher conference, piano recital. That’s because of you, Susan. You make that happen for our boys. And that day at that interview, to know that the best daughter, the best sister, the most devoted, loyal, fierce woman on the planet, thought I was a good dad. I don’t think you understand who you are. To me, to the kids, to everyone.”
“I…I don’t…”
…understand, I guess? Who I am to everyone? What?
He explains, “Before your mom died, it was a few months before. There was a birthday, either your dad’s or one of your sister’s. And your mom was in charge of a big medical journal study thing at the time. You know how she got. Well, she forgot the birthday. Hundred percent blanked. But you didn’t. You had us stop and pick up a cake on our way over, thinking your mom may have forgotten.
“I will never in my life forget the relief on your mom’s face when we walked in with that cake. And she looked up, a tear on one check, looked at you with more pride than I’d ever seen in her eyes, for anyone of any of you and all their accomplishments and she just said, ‘Of course, Peak Susan.’”
I start to sob.
I don’t remember that at all.
Adam turns and sits on our coffee table so he can face me directly and puts his hands on my thighs, rubbing and holding, not in a sensual way but as if to ground me, comfort me.
“There was another time your dad was planning a dinner party, some really important fundraising thing with a bunch of bigwigs, and his assistant messed up the invitations. And he came over to our house in a panic, do you remember that? You were like twenty four, still doing the rounds in one of the other departments, but he didn’t bother with his other assistant or his VP, he called you.
“And sure enough within like two hours you had saved his ass. You got promoted a couple weeks later and I don’t think you put two and two together but I sure did. That man was white as a sheet and his twenty-four-year-old daughter fixed everything.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I do. I guarantee he does. And there were a couple years, I kept track because I was annoyed, mostly because it was in the evenings and I wanted to be having sex,” he chuckles, “one of your sisters called you for advice once a week. Once a week, Susan.”
My neck is getting tired of all the head shaking but I can’t help it. I can’t process it. That can’t be right. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. Remember they were getting in between me and your panties. My favorite place. I was ticked.” He squeezes my legs. His smile fades as he gathers more thoughts. “Sally,” he sniffs. “She’s come a long way but there was a good stretch she didn’t show any emotion on her face, you remember?” I nod. “We went to a concert of hers, but it was out of town on a workday. I think it was just you, me, Samantha and your dad maybe? Anyway she played one of her crazy songs and then when she was done, like always, you could hear a pin drop, and she looked out to the crowd. Everyone erupted with cheers but she was looking around.
“See, Baby,” his voice cracks again, “You weren’t sitting with us. You had to come late and so she saw me, and your dad, and Sam and she looked and looked and then finally she found you in the back. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Big ol’ smile.” Another sob comes out from deep within me as a tear falls down Adam’s face for the first time. “I was, I am, so proud of you with her. No one is ready to raise their teen sister when their mom dies. No one. But damn, you did a good job.” I am wrecked now, shaking and struggling to breathe through my tears. He keeps going, unbelievably, “And then you were surprised she asked for you when she got shot? Baby, of course she asked for you. Of course she did.”
His hands go to my face and his whisper is rough, “Susan, sweetheart, look at me.” Sweetheart. “Hey, open your eyes for me.” He whispers, voice shaking. I manage to open my eyes to lock onto his. “That is just a fraction, a tiny fraction of all the things I remember.” He wipes my tears as he holds my head. “I meant it the other day when I said you’re everything, the glue, the wheel, the engine, the heart of our family, of your business, of the whole Canton family too.
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like a bother. I don’t want you to change. Not even a little bit. I don’t want you to slow down or dream smaller or do less. Become CEO. Write that book you want to write. Start that non-profit on the side. All of it. Just let me come along for the ride. I just want to cheer you on.”
“I can’t…I…”
“Breathe, baby,” he says softly as he holds me. I can’t. Breathe. I haven’t cried this hard maybe ever in my life.
I sob for what feels like an hour, and Adam just waits. I grip onto him to stay upright through the emotions. He strokes my hair I think. Kisses my forehead a few times. When I finally pull back he gets up right away, coming back with a box of tissues and two bottles of water.
He stares at me while I try to clean up my face.
“What?” I ask, worried I look about as wrecked as I feel.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t say any of this sooner.”
“Stop!” I almost laugh.
He chuckles softly, “Are you saying I can stop talking finally?”
“For now? Yes, please. I don’t think I can take anymore, I mean, look at me.”
“You look breathtaking,” he says. I glare at him and make an obvious display out of blowing my nose. “Okay, your serum looks a little…smudgy? But underneath all that. Breathtaking.”
“B-breathtaking? Seriously?” I wipe at my nose. “Who are you and what have you done with Adam Bell? You need to give Shep a raise.”
“It wasn’t Shep.” I look up and his eyes are tugging at my heart again. “It was you. I mean, he helped but after I got my exit plan in place, started to think clearly, finally, all I could think about was you. Being better for you. Worthy of you. Not losing you.” He swallows. “Susan, I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everyday. I will. Everyday I’ll tell you anything you need to hear. Over and over. Just tell me that I’m not too late.” He rubs my thighs again and a chill runs over me. His eyes seem to follow the reaction up my entire body, pausing on my chest in this thin robe. He licks his lips and then drags his eyes up to meet mine. “Tell me, baby. Please…”