18. Sam
sam
. . .
Jameson loved your photo.
Clicking open my messages, I see the notification on the image I sent him bright and early while Dylan was wearing her turkey T-shirt with messy bedhead hair and eating breakfast. I smile imagining him opening it and laughing.
Our little girl can be hilarious. My smile fades though when I picture him getting ready for work, not even taking the day off for himself.
I wonder if he’ll even get a break or a chance to eat a meal.
My stomach clenches and tears burn my eyes.
I know Mr. Kane and Johnny are planning to come this weekend, but it isn’t the same as today.
Jameson is stuck in Michigan by himself.
My heart feels heavy as I walk down the stairs and to the kitchen.
I catch Dylan playing with her doll set up in the living room and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving is playing in the background.
Voices are talking in the kitchen and then there's a bang on the counter, an echo of a dish hitting it too hard.
As I round the corner, everyone turns to look at me and the atmosphere becomes tense.
My gaze swings to my sister who offers me a timid smile.
“Everything okay?”
Mom grabs for the wine bottle and pours herself a full glass, her glare intent on Aunt Paisley. Allie never takes her gaze off me. Aunt Paisley turns from the stove top and folds her arms over her chest.
“I was just telling your mom that I was surprised to see you here today,” she says, cautiously and casually.
I laugh. “Why? We always do Thanksgiving together as a family. Girls’ weekend.”
My aunt’s eyes flash a little. “I had told your mom I would understand if you didn’t come here today since it seemed like you might have your own family plans and it's a long drive from Michigan.”
My body freezes and my mind reels. I’m so used to doing what’s expected of me and what my mom wants that I didn’t even consider not coming yesterday when I could have stayed in Michigan.
I think about my friends and them choosing to stay close to the men they love and are in a relationship with.
Their families are coming to them and working around their various schedules.
Not mine. My mom has drilled it into my head that I be present with family, and she made it known she does not view Jameson as family, no matter how much I care about him.
“You know I’m seeing Jameson again?” I ask, even though I can guess the answer. She clearly thought I’d be spending the holiday with him and Dylan as a family rather than coming to her house.
Aunt Paisley’s brow rises. “I didn’t know you were seeing him again. Your mom just said he’s been around. I thought maybe you both would be sharing Dylan for the holiday.”
My stomach sinks. I feel like such a bitch. I didn’t even think that this is the second year in a row where I’ve taken Dylan away for Thanksgiving and she’s not seen her daddy the day of. Tears spill over and onto my cheeks.
“They aren’t in a relationship, Paisley,” my mom argues, her glass of wine half gone. “Besides, once he figures out how not easy it is to care for a toddler full-time, he’ll likely slip off the face of the earth again.”
My aunt’s face goes blank and she looks from me to my mom.
My own anger swells in my chest. I turn to her, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Jameson has never once turned away from his responsibility as Dylan’s father.
He loves her and would do anything for her.
He spent weekends driving to see her when I lived here, and he moved permanently to Michigan to be there for her as well.
And yes, I am seeing him. We’re trying a relationship again because even in our time apart, we’ve missed each other.
I love him. I’ve always loved him, Mom.”
My mom’s lips contour in a sneer. “How can you even consider that? He almost missed her birth.”
“You told him the wrong hospital, Mom,” Allie cuts in, and my aunt gasps. I feel the blood drain from my face while my mom’s frame turns rigid. “You told him the wrong hospital on the other side of town and you waited until she was pushing before texting him.”
A sob tears from my throat and I turn my watery eyes on my mom. The woman I’ve looked up to, the one I tried to gather strength from as a single parent. “How could you do that? You told me he was working.”
“We didn’t need him.” She shrugs and sets her wine glass down. “There was no telling for sure as an eighteen-year-old boy if he was going to stick around. I chose in that moment to be your mom and just have it be us girls like always.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make. That hurt Jameson and me.
He’s done nothing to deserve your distrust or hatred,” I argue.
Instead of trying to explain or apologize, I’m floored when she turns and marches out of the kitchen.
A door down the hallway slams shut, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Anger flares deep in my veins. I’m heartbroken and more than anything I just want to get back to Michigan.
My aunt’s arms wrap around me. “I’m not excusing her behavior, because I do not agree with her, but I do think it's time you stop trying to navigate these situations like they’re your mom’s, because your situations are so far from the same.
Your dad died, Sam. It was an accident. He didn’t choose to leave you.
He wanted very much to have you, to teach you to skate, to see you play hockey like he did.
And Allie’s father didn’t walk away either.
He doesn’t know about her, and your mom has no way to contact him.
But it wasn’t a relationship where she was left.
She needs to stop making you feel guilty for how her life turned out.
Neither of those two circumstances are even close to what you and Jameson have.
Yes, you were young. Yes, you were just finishing high school.
But look at how far you’ve both come. Dylan is a happy, healthy, lucky little girl.
If you’re in a relationship with Jameson then you need to jump all in.
You three are a family, whether you’re together or not. ”
I shake my head, the sobs and tears really coming out now. “He’s done nothing but be supportive. I can’t believe I just left him.”
Allie comes over and her arms wrap around my waist, so I’m sandwiched between both of them. “Aunt Paisley is right. Don’t let her project her fears on you, Sam. You’re strong, and you’re an amazing momma to Dylan. As far as Jameson goes…I think he’ll forgive you. He’s a little crazy over you, Sis.”
I laugh, thinking about all the times Jameson has taken care of me and showed up just when I needed him. Hearing these two very important women validate my love for him, and how good of a man he is, hits deep. Wiping under my eyes, I glance between them both. “I’m heading home.”
My aunt smiles, nodding, and steps back. “I think that would be a wonderful way to end the holiday.”
Oh God. I can’t believe I left him by himself and he’s working on Thanksgiving.
The need to get to him takes over and I run up the stairs to pack our bags.
I hear Allie getting Dylan ready and helping her use the bathroom before we leave.
My feet hit the bottom of the stairs and my aunt comes out holding Tupperware.
“Here, it isn’t much, but it will at least feel more like Thanksgiving.
” Inside is her fresh baked pumpkin pie. I know Jameson loves pumpkin pie.
“At least with all this driving, you have that nice new Jeep. I feel better knowing my girls are on the road with a reliable vehicle. Your man is a keeper, Sammy.”
My head swings around and my jaw drops. Aunt Paisley is already watching me knowingly. “My Jeep? But you said you got a good deal on it for me from a friend.”
She nods, her smile growing cockier. “I did. My friend, Jameson.”
Despite our time apart, I’ve now learned of all the little ways he was still showing up for me, caring for me.
The soup and things I loved when I was sick, and now knowing he picked out my Jeep so I could have my own transportation.
My heart races and I’m eager to get home to him.
I secure Dylan in her car seat and we drive off.
My baby girl was not unhappy at all that we were leaving Aunty Paisley’s because she was going to get to see her daddy.
I didn’t bother to tell Jameson we were coming.
I wanted to surprise him; I wanted to let him know that he was chosen.
Our three-hour drive goes by a lot faster coming home than it did when we left.
It's just after four when we pull back into town and the sun is just starting to set lower in the sky. Dylan and I are both vibrating in our seats with excitement to get there already. The shop looks dead from the outside, the parking lot empty, but the lights are on in the main garage and office area. I pull my Jeep off to the side of the building right next to Jameson’s truck and park.
Once I get Dylan out and grab the pie, she’s taking off toward the front door.
“Daddy!” Her little voice screams. Jameson’s head whips up from where he’s bent over the desk, paperwork in front of him.
His eyes widen in disbelief, and then he smiles.
Scooping Dylan up in his arms, I swear I see his eyes glimmer while he holds her tight.
As my feet shuffle me closer, his gaze lands on me.
I feel every ounce of heat, possession, happiness, and shock in that one glance.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I tell him, moving to his side and setting the pie down before winding my arms around his waist.
He shifts Dylan to his hip and wraps his free arm around me. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice hoarse and filled with emotion. I swallow down my tears and tilt my head back to give him my smile.
“We wanted to be with family. I realized that my heart wanted to be here with you and Dylan more, on the day we’re giving thanks for all our blessings.”