43. Ava
FORTY-THREE
AVA
Today is one of those days when I can’t quite get it right. First Scarlett had an appointment with the pediatrician, and there were shots, which meant tears from both of us.
Then, just as I was scooping up my purse so I could head to Brayden’s hockey game, a car pulled into the driveway. When the woman stepped out, Maria informed me that she was Josie’s case manager.
For the next forty-five minutes, I resisted the urge to bite my nails while the woman inspected the house and chatted with Josie, judging us the entire time.
All I can do is hope that what she saw met her standards. Josie is happy, and she’s the healthiest she’s been since I met her, thank god. The home Tyler provides for her is more than adequate. She has her own room and any toy she could ever want. Photos of her hang in almost every corner. Scarlett and Brayden too. And the fridge is covered with her artwork.
Most of all, she’s clearly loved. Tyler has done everything in his power to ensure that Josie is happy, healthy, safe, and comfortable. His love for her is palpable in every square foot of this house.
Maria will be returning to the hospital next month. She’s been an invaluable resource, helping me integrate into life here, but it’s time for us to do this on our own. Brayden treats Josie better than most brothers treat their sisters, allowing her to do his nails and watching the movies of her choosing. Josie and Scarlett may have only met months ago, and Scarlett may only be two, but already, they’ve developed a strong sisterly bond.
As for me? I’d go so far as to marry a man I hate to give Josie the family she deserves. Fortunately for all of us, he’s become the man I love. I can’t wait to finally tell him that too.
I’m no longer nervous about our relationship, though I am still anxious about what the future holds for our family, and until the court signs off on the adoption, I won’t feel completely at ease.
And, of course, now I’m going to be late for Bray’s game.
“I see Tyler.” Josie barrels for the ice, where Tyler is standing beside Brayden’s coach.
He comes to as many games as he can, and when he’s here, all the kids on the team go nuts.
As if he needs the ego boost.
Maria stayed home with Scarlett. Shockingly, the two-year-old isn’t a huge fan of hockey, and the shots have made her fussy.
I follow Josie so that after she greets Tyler, we can sit in the stands and let Bray have time with him. Halfway there, I spot a woman watching me from the other side of the rink. I look over one shoulder, then the other, certain she must be looking at someone else, but the rest of the crowd is already seated, since the game is set to begin. When I look back, she’s still watching me, and I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu.
Josie is seated close to the players’ bench near Tyler now, chatting with a girl her age. Content that she’s okay, I change directions and stride toward the woman who has yet to take her eyes off me. She’s in a corner all the way in the back, and she’s all alone. I’m only a few feet away when I realize why she looks familiar.
“Are you following my husband?” I ask. There’s no point in mincing words.
She scoffs, her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Hovering in front of her, I cross my arms over my chest. “I know you. You probably don’t remember?—”
“Oh, I remember you.” She stands, her head ducked a fraction. “I just hoped you didn’t remember me.”
“And who are you?”
She smiles. Rather than a nasty one like she wore that night two years ago when I met her outside Tyler’s apartment—the night he was supposed to be on a date with me—this smile is contrite. Sober. “I’m Brayden’s mother, Trisha.”
A mix of emotions pummels me. Relief and confusion and even a little shame. With my eyes closed, I inhale deeply. “You were at Tyler’s that night for Brayden.”
She slips her hands into the pockets of her puffy black jacket and shrugs. “I was drunk and high. I was most certainly not there for my son, despite what I may have thought at the time.”
I wince, at a loss for how to respond as images I’d rather not picture pop into my head.
She pulls one hand out of her jacket and holds it out. “I wasn’t there for Tyler. Or more like he wasn’t interested in having me there.” She sighs. “Tyler is a good guy. He took care of Brayden when I couldn’t even take care of myself.”
I nod. That much I know to be true. “So you and Tyler never…?” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“No,” she says with a kind laugh. “He was only ever interested in helping my boy.”
I nod once, studying her. She seems sober. Healthy. Tyler told me Brayden’s mom had been in treatment, and from the look of things, she’s gotten it. That should make me happy. Obviously, that’s the ideal outcome. But just like I was crushed when Josie’s mom came back into the picture last summer, my heart cracks all over again. I can’t imagine Brayden moving out, and I can’t imagine him not being a part of our family.
She puts her hand back into her pocket and rocks on her heels, as if she’s nervous. For a moment, she looks out to the ice, where the kids are warming up, then she zeroes in on me again. “Tyler says you’ve been good to my boy.”
My chest warms at the thought of him. “He’s a great kid. Wonderful with Josie and Scarlett. Always respectful. And one hell of a hockey player.”
Lips pressed together, I focus on the ice. She does too. Tyler is watching us from the boards. God, I can’t imagine what he must be thinking. Did he know she was here? Did she tell him she was coming to get Brayden? I feel so out of sorts.
“He says the two of you are trying to adopt Josie.”
I turn my focus back to her, surprised she knows all of this and worried she’ll question what seems like a relationship that cropped up out of nowhere. “Yes, I’ve known Josie for a few years?—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” She laughs. “If anyone should be explaining, it’s me. I’m sure you’re wondering what kind of mother leaves her son alone at home while she’s out getting drunk and high.”
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about you.”
She nods. “I know. But I know a lot about you. It was important for me, since you’re the woman who will be raising my son.”
My heart lodges itself in my throat, making it impossible for me to do anything but gape at her.
With her focus set on the rink, she smiles a little sadly. “He’s happy here. He’s finally got friends, and he’s doing well in school.” Her eyes well, but she blinks back the tears. “A good mother puts her kid first,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
“There are a lot of ways to be a good mother,” I say softly, my own eyes misty.
“You-you’ll be a good mother to him?” she asks, a sob escaping her.
I take a step closer and squeeze her wrist. “Yes. And so will you.”
Ducking, she shakes her head. “I don’t want to interrupt his life. I just want him to be happy.”
“So let him stay with us, but don’t disappear. Show up for games, come over for dinner, work on having a relationship with him. Let him know he can rely on you. If he wants to stay with us, and you want him to stay with us, he will always be welcome. But if he wants to go home?—”
“His home is with Tyler.” Her voice is firm as she says it. “Tyler has been more of a parent to him in the last two years than I’ve ever been.”
Willing my heart rate to slow, I take a steadying breath. “Tyler really is wonderful, but that doesn’t take away your ability to be a mother.”
“I don’t know how to start again. I don’t think Brayden will ever forgive me. My husband died, and I just—” She shrugs one shoulder and lets it drop, her whole body deflating.
“Grief changes people. It breaks people.” I offer her a weak smile. “I get it.”
“But Brayden shouldn’t have to.”
She’s not wrong, but there’s no changing what’s already been done. “Do you like pizza?”
Her brows knit together. “Huh?”
“Pizza? Do you like it?”
Head tilted, she scrutinizes me, obviously confused. “Yeah.”
“We have pizza on Friday nights. Come over and have dinner with us.”
With a hum, she gives me a once-over. “He was right about you, ya know?”
“Who?”
“Tyler. He said you’re special.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Yeah, he’s pretty special too. So will you come?”