Chapter lii
lii
YOU KNOW WHEN YOU WAKE UP AND YOU FEEL FINE , well-rested, maybe even happy, and then a feeling of dread hits you in the stomach? That’s how I felt when I got out of bed the next morning, not because Dax was there—he was why I’d felt so well-rested and happy— but because I remembered I had lunch plans with my parents and brother to tell them about you, to tell them that you were Sammy’s biological father.
“You okay?” Dax asked, after I cut myself a small sliver of marshmallow pie. His piece was about four times the size.
I sighed. “I’m going to tell my parents the truth about Samuel today. That Darren’s not his biological father. And I’m just … dreading it.”
He nodded and took a sip of the coffee I’d made, his knee pressed against mine. “Dreading their response?” he asked.
“I guess,” I said, then thought about it. “Actually no,” I amended, leaning my head on his shoulder, “I think I’m dreading having to admit that I cheated, that I lied.”
Dax wrapped his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I think you’ll feel so much better afterward.”
I nodded. “I hope you’re right,” I told him.
He licked a bit of marshmallow off his fork. “By the way, we make a mean marshmallow pie. This is delicious.”
“You can take some home,” I said, “if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “Your kids should have it. They’re coming tonight, right?”
I took a tiny bite of pie. “They are—and they’ll love it,” I said.
We were both quiet for a moment, and then Dax said, “Will I get to see you this week?”
I shook my head. “Not when I have the kids.”
He smiled at me a little sadly. “That’s what I figured,” he said. “Can I invite you over next weekend, then? Saturday night, after they’ve gone, or Sunday? Dinner at my place? Don’t worry, I won’t cook.”
I felt a tiny butterfly of fear fluttering in my heart, but then I remembered how wonderful last night was, how sleeping with another person in the same bed had felt good, not scary. I thought of how Dax was so comforting. “Sounds good,” I said. “How about Sunday?”
“Deal,” Dax said, after eating the last of his pie and taking the final sip of his coffee. He looked at his watch and then at me. “I guess I should get going. It was really, really nice being here.”
We both stood up and wrapped our arms around each other. “I had fun, too,” I said. “More than fun.”
He zipped his toothbrush back in his suitcase, then brought his luggage outside to flag down a taxi. I waved from the door, then turned back into the house to get ready. Being with Dax stirred up such a mix of feelings, the kind I’d kept at bay for years: desire, hope, fear, and a yearning for something more—for connection, for love. The more I saw him, the more I wanted to see him, but an undercurrent of panic was starting to thrum through me, too. Outside, I’m sure I looked fine, but inside I was a mess, Gabe. As usual, I was a mess.
THE LUNCH WITH MY PARENTS AND JAY WENT OKAY . Better than I’d thought it would. I told them the truth right after we ordered. Jay was the first one who spoke. He looked thoughtful and then said that he’d always wondered how two average-sized people with straight, dark hair made such a tall kid with blond curls. My dad said it was a shame you weren’t around to see Sammy grow up. My mom said she wished I’d told her sooner— that I’d trusted her with this—but when I explained that Darren had wanted to keep the secret from everyone, she said she understood, even if she didn’t like it. Darren and my mom have remained in touch, even after our divorce. Not that they talk all the time or anything, but Darren sends her pictures of the kids, and she sends his twins holiday presents and birthday presents. She really liked having him as a son-in-law, and I understand why. He can be charming, when he wants to be.
It turned out Dax was right, I did feel better afterward. Lighter. Like this heavy weight I’d been carrying for so long had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt the wall I’d put up nearly a decade ago between my parents and my brother and me start to crumble.
“I’m sorry,” I said to them as we walked out of the restaurant. “I think I let this secret get in the way of us, of our relationships. With this big boulder I had to talk around, it was hard to really engage about other things, you know?”
My mom wrapped her arms around me. “Well,” she said, “we can only move forward, right?”
“Right,” I said, feeling tears prick my eyes. The fact that she was so understanding made me even sadder that I hadn’t shared this with them from the beginning. That I hadn’t given them the chance to help.
“I understand so much more now,” Jay said to me when he walked me to the train. “I understand what happened between us and why. It makes me sad that we lost each other for so long, but I hope we can find our way back to each other again.”
He gave me a hug, and I knew my tears would leave a wet spot on his sweater.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m really sorry I never called you after I got back from Italy. I’ve been meaning to, but it’s been so hard to have to keep so much back from you.”
“I know,” he said, and sighed. “Now we’ll do better.”
“We will,” I said, and I hugged him again.
Here’s what I have to say, Gabe: Even if they don’t seem to be a big deal while you’re keeping them, secrets are insidious. They work their way into relationships like moths chewing holes in fabric, until you realize that your favorite coat has been destroyed. Luckily for me, things didn’t get that bad—with my kids or my parents or my brother. But they could have.