43. Weston
43
Weston
Three and a half months later
“ W ill you stop being so impatient?”
Daisy pulls the turkey from the oven and sets it on the counter, shaking her head at me in mock irritation. I know she’s only pretending because of the way she’s biting back a smile. The way she’s looking at me, with love in her eyes. It’s what this house had been missing for years, and finally, it’s overflowing with love again. So much love.
“I can’t help it,” I say, sliding my arms around her apron-clad waist from behind. “It smells delicious.”
She gives me a quick peck over her shoulder, then elbows me away so she can stir the gravy bubbling on the stove, throwing in some fresh parsley. I offered to help her—hell, I offered to cook the entire thing myself, it’s the least she deserves—but she insisted on cooking a full Christmas dinner for us. I can’t say I don’t love it. She looks so damn good in here, so comfortable, so at home. Right where she belongs, with me. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for this woman. Everything about her makes me a better man, and I like to think I make her better too.
Daisy has been busy with her photography since the wedding and was even booked for another paid gig. I’ve never been more proud. She’s considering enrolling in the photography program at the New York Film Academy, but I’m still talking her into letting me pay for it. Why shouldn’t I? I have the money, and I’ll do anything to support her dream. I’ll do anything for her.
I want to do a lot more than pay for her tuition—I want to ask her to marry me. I never dreamed I would feel this way about a woman again, and I know without a doubt that she’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m quite certain she feels the same.
But without Jess in our lives, it doesn’t feel right. It’s one thing for Daisy and I to be together, but to get married without my son? Without him helping me celebrate what I know will be one of the best days of my life? The thought makes my chest ache.
I’ve tried for months to get in touch with him—sending emails, reaching out again to Rex—but I’ve come to terms with the fact that Jess isn’t ready to forgive me, and there’s a chance he never will be. If that’s the case… then I’ll have to find a way to live with it.
I shake off the thought of my son and focus on Daisy, on all the good in front of me. All the happiness that’s here, right now.
“You know this is way too much food for just us,” I point out as I slide back onto the stool at the kitchen island and pick up my wineglass again.
She lifts a shoulder, serving up the mashed potato. “We’ll give some leftovers to Kyle and Vi.”
I smile. We’ve spent a lot more time with our neighbors lately, since Daisy moved in. She and Violet get on well, and it’s been great getting to know Kyle better. Great to feel like I’m part of something again, part of a community, and not just sad and alone in my big house.
My gaze drifts to the Christmas tree in the living room, lights twinkling in the dark, and a bittersweet sensation weaves through me. It’s the first year I’ve bothered to get a tree since losing Lydia, but it was a no-brainer. With Daisy here, filling the house with her photos and her laughter and her love, I knew we needed a tree. It’s sad to celebrate without Lydia, but I couldn’t be more grateful for the chance at a new beginning.
Daisy wipes her hands on her apron, surveying the spread on the kitchen island. “I think that’s everything.”
“Not everything,” I say, rising and rounding the island to her side. I take her face in my hands, tenderly brushing flour from her cheek, and press my mouth to hers in a soft kiss. Her hands stroke my chest, settling over my heart. We share another lingering kiss before she playfully pushes me away.
“I did not spend the entire day cooking just so it could go cold.” She smacks me playfully on the butt as she passes. “You’ll get your dessert after.”
I chuckle, helping Daisy carry the food through to the dining room. I haven’t eaten at this table in years, but it feels good to use it again. Daisy lights two candlesticks in the center of the table and lays out the plates while I begin to carve the turkey, trying to ignore the pain tugging at me. The last meal I ate in here was with Lydia and Jess, and I taught Jesse how to carve the turkey. The memory makes my eyes sting, and my throat is thick when I swallow. Will there ever be three plates at this table again? Will I ever get the future I want with Daisy, with my son’s blessing?
A sound at the front door interrupts us, and Daisy’s gaze meets mine, curious.
“What was—”
The sound comes again, clearer this time. A knock.
Her brows draw together in confusion. “Were you expecting someone?”
I shake my head, setting the carving knife down. Daisy trails behind me as I wander to the front door, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. Without looking through the peephole I swing the door open, expecting to see Kyle or Wyatt, maybe carolers.
I’m completely unprepared to find my son, standing beside a woman with long dark braids over one shoulder.
My heart jams in my throat. Has he come here to get the rest of his stuff from his room? To tell me again what a fucking terrible father I am? Has he—
“Hi, Dad.” His voice wobbles, and the woman beside him slides her hand into his. When I glance up again into my son’s stormy blue eyes, I notice they’re not as stormy as I remember them. And despite myself, hope balloons in my chest.
“Jess,” I say on an exhale. “What are you…” I trail off, not totally wanting to ask the question in case I’m wrong. In case I’m kidding myself.
The woman beside him extends her hand. She’s a foot shorter than Jess, with a broad smile and warm umber skin. “I’m Simone. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Abbott.”
To finally meet me? What’s happening?
I glance at Daisy for clues, but she looks just as lost as me.
“Uh…” I clear my throat, finding my voice. “Nice to meet you, Simone. Please, call me Weston.” My gaze drifts to Jess, his breath puffing out in the cold December air. His eyes reflect my uncertainty back at me.
“I hope it’s okay we just showed up,” he mutters, kicking his sneakers against the door frame absently. “Simone thought we should stop by.”
“Of course it’s okay.” The tight ball in my stomach eases. “It’s always okay.” Daisy nudges me gently, and I step back, motioning for them to enter. “Come in out of the cold.”
Simone grins, leading Jesse inside by the hand. I don’t know who this young woman is, but I like her already.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Daisy says, reaching for Simone’s coat with a broad smile. She leans in and murmurs something to her that I don’t catch, but Simone nods, and the girls share a giggle. It makes me smile. How do these two know each other?
Jess shucks his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door, shifting his weight. I’m not sure how much he wants to be here, how much of this was Simone’s idea.
But he’s here. That’s what matters.
“Have you eaten?” Daisy asks, finally peeling the apron from her waist as she leads Simone and Jess into the kitchen. I trail along behind them, half afraid that Jess is going to bolt out the front door at the first opportunity.
“Not yet,” Simone says. “We were going to grab something on the way home.”
“No way.” Daisy reaches for the wine bottle and wordlessly asks if Simone would like some. She nods her response, and Daisy pours a generous glass. “You should eat with us. We made way too much food.”
I love watching Daisy, making Simone feel at home. I can tell she’s really trying to make her comfortable, and hopefully if Simone is comfortable, Jess will find a way to be, too.
“ Daisy made way too much food,” I correct, sending her a teasing smile. She gives a good-natured roll of her eyes.
“Well, now it won’t go to waste.” Her gaze flits to Jess, who’s standing stiffly at the end of the kitchen island. She seems to debate something for a moment, then pulls a beer from the fridge and pops the top, handing it to him. “It’s really good to see you, Jess.”
He takes the beer, lifting his eyes to hers. After studying her face for a long moment, he seems to soften. “It’s good to see you, too.”
It’s not until he finally answers that I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Maybe Jess isn’t glad to see me, and I can’t blame him for that, but just hearing him say that to Daisy makes my heart settle.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” Daisy says, gathering more plates and cutlery. She motions toward the dining room. “Let’s eat.”
The carving knife is still where I left it on the table, beside the turkey. I pick it up, then pause, glancing at Jess. I’m probably asking for too much too soon, but I hold the handle of the knife out to Jess hopefully.
He hesitates, looking from the knife to my face, then sets his beer down. When he takes the knife from my hand and turns to the turkey, I have to blink tears of relief from my eyes.
Jess is here. He’s carving the turkey for Christmas dinner, and he’s here.
Daisy beams at me as I sink into my seat beside her. Her hand finds mine under the table, and she links our fingers together. Her touch steadies my trembling hand, calms my jangled nerves.
We fill our plates quietly, then Simone raises her wineglass, glancing around the table. “I’d like to propose a toast.” She clears her throat uncertainly, and her gaze flicks to Jess, then back to the room. “To family.”
I steal a glance at Jess as I raise my own glass, tension twisting my chest, but his eyes meet mine, and he raises his beer with a quiet nod. There’s something so different about him tonight, and I have no doubt it’s because of the woman by his side. I watch her with interest, the way she silently encourages him, smiling as she eats and touching his arm on the table. The way he responds with a smile of his own, a warmth in his eyes I haven’t seen in years. It truly is amazing how finding the right woman can help a man heal, and relief floods me at knowing my son has her in his life.
“How long have you two known each other?” I ask.
“We met at Bounce when Jess started,” Simone answers. “But we only started dating a month ago.”
“Because I was an idiot,” Jess mumbles into a mouthful of turkey, and she laughs.
“You weren’t ready.” She leans over to press a kiss to Jesse’s clean-shaven cheek. “I didn’t mind waiting.”
He sighs, kissing her forehead and letting his eyes close for a moment. I haven’t seen my son like this with anyone since his high school girlfriend. Even with Daisy, he didn’t have this ease, this… love. That’s what it is. The thought makes me smile, makes me wonder if there could be hope for my son and me after all. I mean, I never expected he’d be here, on Christmas Day, carving the turkey, eating dinner with us. I could never have predicted this turn of events. But has he forgiven me? Has he accepted me and Daisy?
We finish our meals as the questions swim through my head, and Daisy rises to clear our plates. I push to my feet with a shake of my head.
“I’ll clean up. You did all the cooking.”
But Daisy puts a firm hand on my shoulder and nudges me back into my seat. “I’m on it.” She glances at Simone. “Would you mind helping me clean up?” She doesn’t say it aloud, but I know what she’s doing. Giving me and Jess a moment alone.
“Of course.”
Simone gathers our dishes and the two women head into the kitchen, leaving me and Jess in silence. The only sound is the ticking of the large, gold-rimmed clock on the wall behind me, counting down the minutes until… Until what? Jess leaves again?
“I’m sorry,” I begin, right at the same time Jess says, “That was good.”
Our eyes lock, and we both issue an uncomfortable laugh. It seems neither of us is sure how to navigate this.
“Yeah, Daisy is a great cook,” I murmur, and Jess nods slowly.
“Yet another thing I didn’t know about her.”
I swallow. “Jess, I am so sorry for what happened. For what I did. I should never have gone behind your back to get together with Daisy, and when you moved back home, I should have been honest. I should’ve come clean.”
Jess scrapes his palm over his jaw. “Yeah. You should have.” I wait for the yelling, the storming out, but it doesn’t come. In fact, he’s surprisingly calm. “It was not fun to find those pictures of you two.”
I grimace in shame. “God, I know,” I mutter, screwing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d change everything.” I reconsider my words. “Well, not everything. Not falling for Daisy. I’m sorry, I know I should probably say that I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I could have helped it, but… I don’t regret that part.”
“Good.”
My gaze flies to Jess, confused. “What?”
He lifts a shoulder, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m glad you two found each other,” he murmurs. “I mean, sure, I wish you hadn’t done it behind my back. And I wish I hadn’t found out the way I did. But…” He shakes his head, lifting his gaze to mine. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
I splutter. “You are?”
“Of course. I want you to be happy, Dad. I didn’t realize how much you needed that.”
Holy Christ. Who is this kid?
I must have a look of utter incredulity on my face because Jess gives a grim laugh.
“It’s taken a lot for me to get to this point, believe me. And”—he wrinkles his nose—“I’m still not entirely happy about you being with my ex. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“But?” I ask hopefully.
“But…” He lets his breath out in a long stream. “But Simone has helped me to see— Well, Simone and…”
“A therapist?” I prompt gently.
Jess looks at me, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Rex mentioned something.”
“Oh, yeah. He said you’d spoken.” Jess sticks out his chin. “Well, yes. I’ve been seeing a therapist, and Simone says there’s no shame in it.”
“There isn’t,” I assure him. I move to reach for his hand, then think better of it. “I saw someone for the first two years after your mom died.”
Jesse’s jaw hardens for a split second, then softens. “It’s helped me deal with some stuff. I realized…” He sets the napkin back on the table and faces me squarely, his eyes swimming with remorse. “I’ve been a selfish asshole the past few years, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Jess.” This time I put my hand over his, and squeeze. “You haven’t. You’ve been dealing with the loss of your mom. I wish I’d been a better father, wish I’d been there for you more.”
“I’m the one who left,” Jess says, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t—”
“Hey.” I push to my feet and tug my son into my arms. “You were dealing with it the only way you knew how. I wish I’d realized you were pushing me away to avoid your pain. Maybe I could have helped more. I was so lost in my own grief I didn’t see it.”
He shakes in my arms, crying softly into my sweater, and I hold him. He lets me hold him. He lets me soothe him, and it stitches every last piece of my heart back together.
“You’re here now, Jess. That’s what matters.”
When he finally draws away, he wipes his cheek and gives me a sad smile. “I’ve missed a lot and I don’t want to miss anymore. Mom wouldn’t want us to be apart.”
My eyes burn as I settle back into my seat. “No, she wouldn’t.”
“And she wouldn’t want me to stay mad at you.” Jess sniffs, and a watery smile comes onto his face as laughter drifts from the kitchen. “She would have loved Daisy,” he adds quietly, and my throat constricts with emotion.
“Yeah.” I can’t say anything more than that or I’ll break down. It’s too much.
“I’m still a little angry,” Jess admits, his eyes clearing as he looks back at me. “Mostly that you lied. But I understand why you chose Daisy. She wasn’t right for me, but I can see now she’s right for you. And it’s nice to see you happy again.”
“It’s nice to see you happy, Jess.” I nod my head toward Simone before turning back to him. “No more secrets between us, okay? No more running away. I want you in my life. I know I need to earn your trust again, but I’ll do that. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back in my life.”
“I just…” Jesse’s voice catches and he shrugs, fiddling with the napkin again. “I just need you to be my dad.”
My chest floods with emotion, and it makes breathing difficult. I nod, focusing on my wineglass to give us both the space we need to compose ourselves. “That’s all I want. If you’ll let me.”
Jess nods too. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Daisy appears in the room, a steaming apple pie in her oven-mitted hands. “Ready for dessert?”
Both Jess and I sniff, straightening in our seats as Simone follows with a tub of ice cream.
“I am,” Jess declares, and as Daisy heaps apple pie onto his plate and tops it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, he sends her a grin. She smiles back and squeezes his shoulder, Simone watching them fondly. I must remember to thank that woman for helping my son, for bringing him home to me. Knowing he’s here to stay makes my heart sigh with relief. We have a long way to go to repair everything between us, but I’ll work on that every day. I will be the father Jesse needs.
And when the time feels right, with Jesse’s blessing, I will ask Daisy to be my wife.
My chest is full of warmth as I watch the three of them chat while they eat their dessert, their voices and laughter filling my home. Simone, the person who helped my son find it in his heart to forgive me. Jess, finally back in my life after too much time apart. And Daisy, the woman who brought light back into my life, who helped me find happiness again when every part of me felt broken.
As I look around the table, the atmosphere noticeably lighter since Jess and I talked, I can’t help but feel immensely grateful. Grateful for all I have, for the people here right now, but more than anything, grateful for Daisy.
For the woman I met in Joe’s, at just the right time, who knew exactly what I needed to heal.