Chapter 43
Brandon
“Daddy!” Teddy launches himself into my arms, ecstatic to see me after spending two full weeks apart.
My son’s embrace gives me the tiniest glimpse of what a hug from our Father in heaven must feel like.
He coils his arms and legs around me, peppering kisses all over my face and neck.
I swish him back and forth as I spin us around in a ferocious bear hug.
He giggles like a tiny maniac as we twirl, and it’s like music to my ears.
My cheeks feel like they might split from the joy of our reunion. I drop my nose to his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. He smells like Fruit Loops and grubby toddler skin in the best possible way.
Gosh, I’ve missed him.
Cora wheels his Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase to the front door, smiling fondly at the sight of us together. She pauses in the doorway, and I grab the suitcase, nodding for her to come inside.
“How’re Malcolm’s parents?” I ask, guiding everyone toward the kitchen.
As familiar with my space as if she lived here herself, Cora heads straight for the coffee pot and helps herself to a cup. She leans against the kitchen island, watching Teddy reacquaint himself with the contents of my refrigerator while she catches me up to speed.
“All in all, it was a fun two weeks,” she concludes after regaling their beachfront adventures. She downs the last of her drink and places the mug in the dishwasher. “Malcolm’s family was thrilled to meet Teddy. Thanks for letting us do that on such short notice.”
Nodding, I hoist Teddy up onto a stool and slide a pudding cup and spoon in front of him. He tears into the treat like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Actually, Cora,” I say when she leans in to kiss our son goodbye. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“Oh?”
I hesitate, calling on wisdom from Jesus to choose the right words—and to speak them out of love and respect. Because it’s time to have the conversation.
Both Gladys and Evie pointed out that I can be hard on myself.
After some self-reflection, I acknowledged that they were right.
I have been harboring an unhealthy amount of guilt over my past indiscretions.
Unfortunately, I’ve allowed Cora to get away with certain types of behavior because of it—like changing Teddy’s schedule without my knowledge or consent and refusing to split his time between us evenly over the holidays.
Taking him on an impromptu trip to Florida was the final straw.
I wasn’t going to mention it at first—despite how much it bothered me. For so long, I have accepted Cora’s unfair treatment of me because there was a part of me that believed I deserved it. I assumed being as agreeable as possible was the Christlike way to handle it.
Boiled down, though? I was punishing myself to keep the peace.
We will never find true peace and equilibrium in our co-parenting relationship if I don’t learn how to establish healthy boundaries with Cora. Besides, turning the other cheek doesn’t necessarily mean making oneself a doormat.
“Cora,” I say, taking care to keep my voice gentle but firm. “That can’t happen again.”
“What can’t happen again?”
Lowering my voice, I stroke our son’s feather-soft curls. “You can’t take him on such a big trip like that so unexpectedly. You need to plan things like that in advance.”
She blinks. Purses her lips as her face ripens with a blush. “I’m sorry.”
That wasn’t the response I was expecting, and I think she can tell because she laughs sheepishly. “I knew it wasn’t fair of me,” she starts, then shrugs. “But I also knew you’d agree.”
I frown.
She lifts her hands. “That was wrong of me. Again, I’m sorry.”
I push down my irritation. “Apology accepted.”
“From now on, we’ll discuss big trips in advance.”
“And we’ll stick to his schedule,” I add. “I don’t want to get a professional involved.” Her eyes widen. I sigh. “I respect you, Cora, and I want a peaceful co-parenting relationship. One that’s fair for us both.” I glance down at Teddy. “And for him.”
She nods quickly. “I want that, too. Trust me.”
“Good.”
“Good.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair before flipping it over her shoulder.
“Look, I owe you more than one apology.” She tilts her head, gazing at our son.
“You’re an amazing father, Brandon, and you’ve always gone out of your way to be there for us.
But sometimes I don’t treat you like it and .
. . well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. ”
Color me shocked. I’m so touched by her apology that a lump forms in my throat. “It’s okay, Cora. I understand. It’s been a rough few years for us both.” I pause, then swallow. “I’m sorry for my role in everything that happened. And I’m especially sorry that it didn’t work out between us. I wish—”
She laughs. “Brandon, please. We both know that was for the best. Can you imagine how miserable we’d be if we tried to force a relationship?”
“Yeah,” I hedge, not sure if agreeing will do me any favors.
There was a reason we were only friends.
It strikes me as ironic that she’d say that, though, considering she likes to throw the fact that I didn’t marry her in my face whenever she can.
But that’s neither here nor there. Water under the bridge.
She smirks. “No offense, but you’re not my type,” she goes on.
I laugh. I could say the same, but I don’t want to offend her.
There are some things a man should never say to a woman—least of all the mother of his child.
You’re not my type is one of them. “I’m more of a blue-collar man myself.
They’re far less complicated.” Her phone buzzes, and she glances down and pulls it out.
“Speaking of. Malcolm’s waiting on me.” She drops a kiss to the top of Teddy’s head. “Bye, kiddo. Have fun with Daddy.”
“Bye, Mommy,” he says, attention already absorbed in a game on his tablet. “Love you.”
She chuckles. “Love you, too, baby. See you soon.”
He waves half-heartedly.
Once I’ve seen Cora out, I turn to my son. “Right. Who’s ready for a game of . . .” I stalk toward him, my hands raised and clenched like claws. He squeals and hops down from the stool before jetting off. I thump through the house after him. “Dinosaur!”