34. Explain This More
EXPLAIN THIS MORE
“You’re home early,” Ian said, opening the door and coming in.
Fletcher expected his son to be here before him, but when he came home to an empty place, he pulled up the app for his son’s phone and saw him still at school.
There was no reason to bother him, so he started on dinner while he tried to work everything through his mind.
Paris was right. He should have talked to Ian first.
For once he just acted without thought.
She was also right that he was afraid. Not something he admitted to anyone.
“Yeah. I wanted to talk.”
“It’s about last night, right?” Ian asked, putting his book bag on the chair by the island.
“Yes. Your mother called me today.”
Ian stopped and stared at him. “What did she say?”
“I’d rather hear your side of it,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yes. Tell me what happened. Just talk, I’ll piece it together.”
He flipped the burgers that he started when he noticed Ian walking home.
“I didn’t want to go,” Ian said.
“I know. Sometimes we’ve got to do things we don’t want to.”
Ian put his head down. “She pissed me off.”
“Nothing new there. What did she do this time?” he asked.
Ian looked stunned that he was allowed to just talk like this.
Maybe he was surprised Fletcher was letting it go too.
But it seemed like he fucked everything else up today.
“She started in on how I looked. She said I need a haircut four times in ten minutes.”
He held back his snort.
He agreed with his ex there but knew enough to let his sixteen-year-old son figure that out on his own.
Could be the style for all he knew.
Maybe Ian had a girl he was crushing on who liked the shaggy look.
Long hair never killed anyone.
“What did you say?”
“I told her I’m growing it out. Then she said it looked horrible. I didn’t point out that blonde wasn’t her color.”
He really had to hold that laugh in. His son wasn’t wrong there. He didn’t think the blonde hair was doing his ex any favors.
“So she complained about how you looked and you were, what? Rude back?”
“Yep. She’s always nitpicking. I asked her why she cared. She never did before. I pointed out all the times I needed things and she was out with other men.”
He groaned. “Ian.”
“What? It’s not a lie. She got even more pissed. Zach’s face flushed. Shouldn’t he know who he’s married to?”
“That’s between them,” he argued. He pulled the fries out of the oven and put the pan on the counter, then put the sliced cheese on the burgers.
“Yeah, well. They were fighting before I even got there. She was acting toward him like she did you for the last few years. I didn’t want to sit through that. Maybe it set me off.”
Fletcher stopped and braced his hands on the counter to look at his son. “Ian. I’m sorry. Sorry that we did that to you.”
“It wasn’t you. It was her. You were trying and she wasn’t.”
“Not trying hard enough if I didn’t see it. If I didn’t prevent it from happening. I don’t want you to live through that again.”
“I’m not,” Ian said. “And maybe watching you with Paris on Sunday. Maybe that just fed more for me to say what I did. I’m sure she told you I brought up Paris.”
This was where the dread filled every pore in his body.
He didn’t want to lose Paris, but he couldn’t lose his son either.
“She did.”
“She had a lot of questions. I probably said more than I should have. I couldn’t help it. She should know you’re happy now. That you’ve moved on too.”
“You’ll have to explain this more.”
He didn’t want to assume anything right now.
“You and Paris on Sunday. I don’t remember you ever being like that with Mom. Even when I was younger. Before everything.”
“Like what?” he asked.
Though he knew.
The laughter. The teasing. The looks. The touches.
It came more freely than he thought it would.
And Paris shared that laughter with his son.
She didn’t just listen to Ian. She didn’t talk at him, she talked with him.
She asked questions and got information out of his son he didn’t even know. Because he didn’t know how to ask.
But his girlfriend, with her younger siblings, she knew things to bring up and how to talk his son’s language better than him.
“It’s just how different you are with her.” Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re happier. You deserve that. Like I said, Mom moved on, you should too.”
He really messed this up.
He should have waited before he jumped the gun.
“I’m glad you like her.”
“I do. But you know, like if she’s not someone you end up with, I get it. That’s your decision, but the fact you’re trying, that’s fire.”
“Fire?” he asked. He was pretty sure that was a good thing.
“Yeah. Stefan already thinks you’re jacked. I told him your girlfriend is hot. I found a picture of her on her website. He wants to come over when she’s here one day.”
He groaned.
Not exactly his world’s aspiration. To have a girlfriend his son and his friends were crushing on.
Though he had to admit, it did feel good to have that acceptance also.
“We’ll see about that,” he said. “Dinner is done. Let’s eat, then I’m going to run out. What are your plans tonight?”
“Just playing games online,” Ian said. “I’ll be fine alone.”
“I won’t be long, I promise,” he said. Only as long as it took to grovel and ask for forgiveness.
Ian studied him for a second. “You going to see Paris?”
He didn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah.”
Ian nodded once. “Good.”
Good. That single word undid the last twenty-four hours of spiraling doubt.
He and Ian ate, talked about nothing important. School, a math test, some online game tournament, and for the first time since Lorraine’s call, he felt steady. Confident.
Not because everything was solved. But because he’d listened before reacting. Like he always did before.
When he grabbed his keys, Ian called after him. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not screwing this up because of Mom, right?”
He paused.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not.”
He didn’t text Paris. Didn’t call. He drove straight there, took the elevator up, and knocked.
It took a few seconds before the door opened.
“You didn’t give me hours as an option,” she said.
It took him a second to comprehend her statement. “Can I come in?”
She stepped aside.
He walked in but didn’t take off his jacket. Didn’t sit. He needed to say this before he lost the nerve.
“Do I have to guess why you’re here or are you going to tell me? You’re just standing there staring at me.”
“I talked to Ian.”
Her arms folded loosely. Defensive, but not closed.
“And?” she asked.
“And I was wrong.” Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes sharpened. “He told me what happened at dinner. What he said. Why he said it.” He dragged a hand over his head. “He wasn’t struggling with us. He was defending us.”
She blinked. “Explain that better.”
“He told Lorraine I’m happy. That I’ve moved on. That I deserve to. He watched her interactions with Zach. The tension he felt and saw. He said it made him realize how different I am and though he shouldn’t have done it, he put it out there I was happy and what I had.”
“To make her jealous?”
“I don’t know if that was his motive as much as he didn’t want to sit there and listen or witness what he has before.”
She held her hand up. “First. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on you for wanting to be there for your son. That’s wrong of me. I was just... blindsided.”
“You and me both. I should have talked to him first. I didn’t. I reacted. That’s not like me.”
“It seems both of us are acting differently than normal,” she said.
She was listening. She was giving him the courage to say it all.
“And instead of talking to him first,” he continued, his voice rougher now, “I let my fear make the call. I walked in here and asked for space because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” she asked quietly. Not rubbing his face in being right over calling him a coward. But wanting to clearly understand.
He held her gaze. He’d come this far.
“Of loving someone again.” The words sat thick between them. “I thought I had this under control,” he said. “New job. New routine. You. I told myself I was handling it like I handle everything else. Strategically. Carefully.”
“Wow,” she said, her jaw falling open.
“What?”
“You sound just like me. Everything. That is what I thought too. Or maybe that is how I thought love should be and realized since I’ve met you I was completely wrong.”
“Do you love me?” he asked. He really needed to hear she did.
“Of course I do,” she said. “But you don’t strategize love. Nor a relationship. I know that now.”
He nodded his head. “You either step into it or you don’t. And when things got messy, I defaulted to pulling back. Because if I don’t fully lean in, then I can’t fully lose it. That was my thought and it was wrong.”
“Because you were afraid of getting hurt again,” she said.
“Yeah. I’m not afraid anymore though. I watched my marriage implode,” he said. “I watched my son get caught in the crossfire. And somewhere along the way, I decided I wouldn’t risk that kind of failure again.”
“You thought loving me was a failure waiting to happen?” she asked.
“No,” he said immediately. “I think loving you is the best thing that’s happened to me in years. And that’s exactly why it scares the hell out of me.”
“It scares me too. Because all those things you said. I felt that too. I did the same thing for close to the same reasons.”
“You don’t show it,” he said.
“Neither do you.”
“That’s our problem,” he said. “We’re both too good at concealing things.”
“I don’t think I’m so good at it anymore. You’ve seen more than anyone.”
“But not the important things. Not recently. I care about you,” he continued. “More than I planned to. More than I expected to. And when Lorraine said Ian would turn on me the same way… it got in my head. I panicked.”
“You don’t panic,” she said softly.
“I did.” He stepped closer. “I was wrong to push you away. Wrong to question this without even giving you the respect of a real conversation. Ian made me realize that I wouldn’t be protecting him by shutting down. I’d just be teaching him to run from something good.”
Her eyes watered now, but she didn’t look away.
“That’s a good thing to learn.”
“I don’t want time,” he said. “I don’t want space.
I don’t want to slow down because I’m afraid.
I want to be honest. Completely. Even if that means admitting I’m scared.
” He exhaled slowly. “And if that’s too much for you—if you don’t want to deal with a man who’s still figuring out how to do this the right way—I understand. ”
The room felt quiet. Almost as if it was closing in on him.
But she took one step forward. Then another.
“You are such an idiot sometimes,” she whispered.
“I’m learning that quickly too. Do you forgive me?” he asked, his lips landing on hers.
“I do. I don’t want what we have to cause fear. Guilt. Confusion. None of those negative things.”
“It’s not always as easy as the words.”
“No, it’s not. But we’re both smart. Both mature. Some more than others.”
“Very funny,” he said, giving her another light kiss.
“It was meant to be. Because those are the things I love about you. About us. Those things that your son witnessed. I want more of it. Lots of it. But I also know the negative will be there, and when it is, we’ll talk it out, right? No running. No hiding under blankets.”
“Blankets?”
“That was me,” she said, smiling.
He knuckled a tear before it ran down the side of her face.
“No more hiding,” he agreed.
He kissed her then. Not desperate, not frantic.
Certain.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t bracing for impact.
He was stepping forward into the flames ready for the warmth with no fear of being burned.