14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Rose
Don’t mind us, Milo. We’re just a dysfunctional family, standing outside of Childcare, as my ex’s mother picks up my kid—the kid you didn’t even know I had.
Yep. Just me and my ex’s mom, and the child I had with her son. Our beautiful boy who doesn’t deserve a life without a father. Which is why I can’t freak out about her coming here twice in one week. She’s Callum’s grandmother. She helped take care of him for a long time, even after Blaine gave up his parental rights. And since we moved to Longdale, Callum hasn’t spent much time with her.
I turn my back to the general vicinity of where Milo is standing. This is weird. What is he going to think about me standing here with a toddler? He’s going to figure out that Callum’s mine.
And I’m not trying to hide that fact, I just want to protect my son as much as I possibly can. I don’t want to introduce him to every cute guy I meet.
Not that Milo’s like any of the other men out there.
“Darla, why didn’t you call first?” My cheeks heat and I bounce Callum up and down in my arms, giving him kisses all over his face and neck and arms.
“I thought it might be fun to surprise you.”
I don’t look up. I’m too busy showering my son with kisses. “Callum is my responsibility, though. You can’t just check him out of childcare.” Although, she is on the list of emergency contacts, so that’s probably why they let her.
“I was just missing him, you know? Living an hour away is hard on a grandma.” I look up in time to see her smile sadly. “It’s good to see you, Rose.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Darla.” Callum wiggles out of my arms, and I gently set him down so he can toddle around the lobby. He’s at the age where he likes to stick close to me, which I’m glad about, especially with the lobby so busy this time of day.
“I’ve been talking to Blaine about how much he’s missing out on, not having rights to Callum.” She hesitates, pulling her grey hoodie down over her jeans. “And by not being with you anymore.”
I sigh. “It was his choice, though. I gave him every opportunity to step up and be a father to Callum and he didn’t.” It still stings. It’s Hawkins one-oh-one and it really stings.
Not that I still love Blaine, because I really, truly don’t. It hurts that he didn’t want the family we’d created. But it’s okay—it’s for the best.
“I know,” Darla assures me, laughing a little over Callum running across the lobby floor as fast as his little legs will take him. The waddle, with him wearing a diaper and all, is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.
“I keep hoping my son will grow up,” Darla continues. “He’ll realize it someday. It just might be too late at that point.”
“It already is. Darla, look.” My voice is soft. “You know he and I are not getting back together.”
“I was just hoping that Blaine would want to be in his sweet little boy’s life.” Her eyes grow misty.
“Me, too.” I did want that. But the last thing I want is for Callum to get hurt emotionally. If Blaine is going to be wishy-washy about showing up, maybe it’s better he’s not around at all.
That’s what much of my childhood looked like, and I turned out okay.
At least, I think I did.
“So, were you just going to check Callum out of Childcare without asking me?” I ask, fear flitting through me.
Note to self: Immediately inform Childcare that no one but me is permitted to check my baby in or out without my permission—even if they are on the emergency contact list.
Callum runs back to us and wraps himself around Darla’s legs. She bends down and smooches the top of his dark, fuzzy little head. “We were just about to find you,” she says to me.
“I have a lot of work to do today. Three housekeepers called in sick, and I have to do their work for them. So, I’ve got to go.” I tug my baby close to me. Callum hasn’t ever seemed too sad when I’ve dropped him off places, but lately he’s had some separation anxiety. My mom assures me that’s perfectly normal for his stage of development, that nineteen-month-olds often get clingy and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like playing here with the other kids and the staff. Still, it breaks my heart every time it happens.
“Well, I’m glad I’m here then,” Darla says, cheerfully.
“Hey, it’s good to see you,” I say. “But can I please ask you for a favor?” I scrunch up my face, my heart rate ratcheting up. “Will you please let me know when you’re coming by? I’m asking you for a heads up so I can come and get Callum out of Childcare myself.”
Darla’s lower jaw moves up and down before she finds her voice. “Well, yes. Sure. I can do that.” Her chin hardens. “Since I’m here now, don’t worry about Callum.” She picks him up, and he snuggles close to her. “Huh, dude? I’ll just take him back to your place and put him down for a nap.”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“But it makes sense for Callum. You want me to put him down for a nap on a park bench somewhere?”
I sigh and rub my forehead with the back of my hand. She has a point.
“Okay. Why don’t you hang out here until my lunch break and then I can drive over and let you guys in.”
“If you’re able to do that, great,” Darla says. “I can take care of Thorin while I’m there.”
“My lunch is in about forty-five minutes. There’s some food for Callum in the diaper bag. Will you feed him while you wait? I’ll see you soon.” I give Callum a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, my baby boy.” His toothy grin gets me every time, a twinge of contentment, grief, and a sorrow I can’t explain welling up within me. Every smile of his, his dark eyes sparkling, upends me.
I guess I could just call it love, but that doesn’t seem sufficient. I think it’s true what they say: that having a child is agreeing to allow your heart to walk around outside your body for the rest of all time.
Getting Callum squared away at my apartment with Darla was without incident. There’s a certain satisfaction knowing he gets to nap at home today instead of at Childcare.
And now that I’m back at work, trying furiously to clean the lobby—I’m so behind—my mind is whirring with thoughts of Milo. It would be silly of me to think that Milo wouldn’t have put two and two together and figured out that I have a son.
So many possible excuses—lies—spring to mind, but I know I can’t do that. I have to come clean about how I’m a mother and how the company his family owns takes care of my son every day so I can work.
This could change the dynamic of what we have. Not that there was really anything between us to begin with, though. Right?
I’m vacuuming like a woman on a mission when Milo’s foot comes into view. I startle a bit but don’t look up. I know it’s him because I recognize these shoes. They’re not pretentious, but they look expensive, nonetheless. You know this kind of sneaker. They’re well made, trim, and trendy. A defying-all-the-odds, gleaming white. Like a moth to a flame of destruction, I glance at my own shoes. The scuffed-up, service-industry shoes that I’ve had for years.
“Hey, Rose,” I manage to hear his voice over the hum of the vacuum.
When I switch it off, my whole body is guarded. This is it, the bubble bursting. I can practically hear the pop.
“Hi, Mr. Tate. Do you need some help with something. Something cleaned?”
He hesitates, his eyes peering at me before darting around. I can feel Trevor at the front desk staring at us.
“Uh, yes.” Milo catches on. “Can I have a word with you about the . . . um . . . bathrooms?”
“Sure thing.” My voice is way more perky than I feel inside. I unplug the vacuum and roll it over to my cleaning cart, then follow him, like the dutiful employee I am, to the bathrooms near the elevators.
He walks straight past them and with a glance back, leaves the building entirely. I follow, the fresh spring air infiltrating my nose and throat.
“I should explain,” tumbles out of my mouth at the same moment Milo says, “How are you?”
His posture is soft and warm, his dark-brown eyes searching my face. I’m reminded again of how much I love his beautiful eyes.
“Well, it’s been a weird day,” I say. “How much do you know about . . . stuff?”
Confusion slides across his face.
“I mean, have you been asking Anna for information? Or Maggie in HR? It might be easier to explain if I know what you already know.”
His gaze and tone of voice both soften. “No. I wanted to talk to you about it, not someone else.”
I blow out a breath. “There’s some stuff I need to tell you, I guess.”
The laugh under his breath is laced with nerves. “You sound like you’re giving a confessional.”
“I sort of am.” My eyes search out the chokecherry trees behind him, planted amongst the tiered blocks of land gently landscaped around the resort. The pink blossoms have started appearing on the trees now that’s it’s spring.
“Why?” His tone is soft. “You don’t owe me anything, Rose.”
“I feel like I do. Because we . . . kissed. And . . . I realize it’s silly. It might have meant more to me than it did to you. Maybe you do that on a regular basis?”
I shake my head and start to pace, which is ideal because then half the time, I can avoid looking at him as I sort all this out. “I’m not judging!” I continue, “I suppose that’s what guys like you do. So, I guess I don’t owe you an explanation?” The last word sounds like a question. I don’t mean to be so unsure about all this, and I’m usually very confident because I’m a Hawkins woman. Confidence—at least a version of it—is in our DNA.
But suddenly, I don’t know what our kiss meant to him . . . if anything at all.
I turn just in time to see him scowl, his tongue moistening his lips. “Wait. I don’t do that, just kiss someone on the day we meet. I told you that before.”
I stop pacing. “Except, we did.” I feel a coyness coming on, but I manage to step out of that role I’m somehow so drawn to whenever he’s around. “Maybe that’s something guys just say. Sorry.” I raise my chin in the air. “I’m a single mom, okay? Just so you know, I dated Blaine, got pregnant, asked him for a commitment and he refused, and so by the time our son was born, Blaine and I were completely done.” I probably sound defensive. I don’t care right now.
A little breath escapes him, and his mouth opens in a tenuous smile. “Wow. So that was your son I saw? He’s so cute.”
Not what I was expecting him to say. I breathe in slowly, the scent of spring blossoms swirling in the breeze.
“I know, right?” I can’t help smiling. “He’s the greatest kid in the whole world. I love being a mom, but it hasn’t been easy. All the stuff I told you before, about wanting to become a nurse and then having a little hiccup in my plans? Well, Callum’s the best hiccup in my plans I never imagined I needed.” I rub my collarbone with my fingertips. “I love him so much it hurts!” It comes out in practically a shout.
His eyes widen. “I get it now. So, of course, having a baby means your plans change, at least a little.”
“Yeah.” I glance back at the glass door. “I need to get back to work. But look, I need you to know that I didn’t mention Callum to you to keep him a secret, but because I thought I’d never see you again. The subject of my son? It’s sacred. I have to protect him. I didn’t think it was important for you to know about him, simply because he’s that important to me.” I gently squeeze both sides of my head with my hands, willing my nerves to soften. “It’s hard for me to explain.”
“I understand your need for privacy and . . .” Milo shrugs. “It’s okay.” But there’s a look that crosses his face, just a blip, that makes me wonder if it really did bother him that I didn’t tell him.
Does it bother him that I have a kid?
“Because we’re friends now, sort of . . .” I say. “So I can talk about my son and all that . . .” I trail off. I wasn’t kidding about needing to get my work done and get home. I don’t expect Darla to have to take care of him for too much longer, even though, honestly, she’d probably love it. And Callum would, too.
“And is your son . . . Callum . . . is he still over there in Childcare?”
“No.” I clear my throat, gathering up courage. If I just say it, I won’t have to repeat it, right? “Darla, Blaine’s mom, took him to my apartment for a nap. I didn’t know she was coming.” I offer the best laugh I can muster. “Blaine gave up his parental rights a long time ago. But Darla and Callum love each other, and Darla helped with him a lot before I moved here.”
Milo just nods. I can see the questions forming in his head. “Thanks for talking this out,” he says, palming the back of his neck and lifting his gaze to meet mine.
I smile. “Thanks . . . for trying to understand where I’m at.”
His jaw stiffens. “A lot of stuff makes sense now.”
“You understand why I can’t date, right? With moving away for school and having Callum . . .” I sigh, holding my stiff lower back with both palms. I’m sore. This job is killer sometimes.
When he nods, I offer up a little more of the truth that’s so hard to explain. “I feel like I don’t exactly have the skills for a relationship. I’ve seen too much.” I try to laugh, to sound casual about it, but then my throat tightens. “I just can’t put myself out there again.”
There is nothing more to say. This gorgeous, interesting, enjoyable man knows that the circumstances of my life have stolen away my ability to get involved romantically. He also knows the truth about my sweet little boy.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s better that way.
But how will that change things?
And is it bad that part of me is looking forward to finding out?