Page 54 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
“No, it’s not.”
“You’re mad at Scotty? Or yourself?”
I paused, buttoning up my shirt. “Both,” I admitted. “And I feel like the biggest asshole in the world for saying that, but I’m angry at both of us.”
“You’re not an asshole. You’re human.”
I tugged on socks and stepped into my shoes, bending to lace them up. “Well, I feel like an asshole, because even though part of me knows I deserve all the blame for this, and I should hug him and comfort him and tell him it’s all my fault, there’s another part of me that’s like why can’t you just fucking fall asleep with the hall light on?” I straightened up and shook my head. “But I know why he can’t.” I looked around for my coat. “And I’m frustrated that there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, maybe you could try doing the nightlight and the hall light for a while? Then do one or the other? So he gets comfortable with different things?”
“Maybe,” I said stiffly. I don’t know why her comment made me bristle a little. She was only trying to help. And she was a pediatrician, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like she didn’t have a clue about kids. But I was always irked when people who didn’t know Scotty tried to give me advice. “But I doubt it would work. He’s really set in his ways.”
“OK,” she said easily. “Sorry if I upset you.”
I hadn’t realized it was obvious I was bothered. Now I felt like an even bigger dick. “You didn’t. I’m sorry.” Softening my tone, I slung my bag over my shoulder and went to the side of the bed where she sat. “I’m just frustrated. For many reasons.”
She nodded slowly. “I get it.”
“Jillian.” Setting my bag down, I sat at her feet and put my hands on top of them. They were chilly, and I wanted nothing more than to get naked again, wrap myself around her, and tuck us in under the sheets. But that wasn’t an option. “I wanted to wake up with you so fucking badly.”
“Me too,” she said. “Next time.”
“Next time.” Was she wondering, like I was, when that would be? And if we’d actually get to see it through? I wanted to say I promise, but I couldn’t. I’d never be able to promise her anything. The weight of that reality made my limbs heavy and my chest ache.
“You better go.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave me a tiny smile. “He’s waiting for you. He needs his daddy.”
I nodded and said what I had to, even though I had to rip the raw words from my throat. “Jillian. I want you to give this some thought. These kinds of things…they’re going to happen. I can’t promise they won’t, and I can’t prevent them.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Listen to me. Please. I love you, but I will understand completely if you don’t want this in the morning.”
She looked at me for a moment, then got to her knees. Wrapping her arms around me, she laid her head on my shoulder. “I love you, too. And I don’t give up easily, Levi.”
I kissed the top of her head, love and gratitude for her swelling in my chest. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?”
She sat back. “I’ll walk you out.”
After throwing on a robe, she saw me to the door and gave me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. When I tried to kiss her lips and linger there, she gave me a gentle shove on the chest and laughed. “You better go. Or I’ll never let you leave.”
One last kiss on her forehead and I went out the door.
On the way to my sister’s house, I kept thinking about her, about everything we’d done, everything we’d said, everything I felt. As amazing as the night had been, I didn’t want our relationship to be nothing but these short, intense bursts. I wanted more, but I didn’t know how to get it.
Yes, you do—you have to stop trying to be two people. You can’t be Dad here and Levi there and expect to keep everyone happy. You’re just going to end up feeling more guilty all the time. You have to bring her into your life as it exists, into Scotty’s life. You have to let her in.
I rubbed a hand over my beard, wondering if that was really the answer. Wasn’t it too soon to introduce her to my son? What if she got to know him and thought he was too much of a challenge? What if she didn’t understand him? What if she saw the way I had to live and realized she couldn’t handle it? Or thought I was dealing with him wrong, like my family sometimes said?
It’s too soon. I should wait.
For that matter, was it too soon to be so in love with her? Was there a schedule for these things? I was so used to doing things a certain way—my life at work and at home was governed by calendars, plans, lists, charts, deadlines, routines. I was an architect, for fuck’s sake. You don’t
build a house without a foolproof design first. But…it felt liberating to have this other thing happening in my life, something impulsive and extraordinary, something instinctual and unstoppable. When I was with her, I felt so alive.
Yet it was frightening too. I’d never been in love like this before. Without experience or wisdom or a plan to guide me, how did I know if what I was doing was right for my son? Or for Jillian?
I was just feeling my way.
