I look at her finally, and I see that her face is wet too, and it kills me that I’ve done that to her. “Then who am I?”
“You’re Mitchell’s father. You’re my best friend. And some day, when you’ve had enough time to process all that happened, you are going to get your life back the way you want it, the way you deserve to have it.”
“I got exactly what I deserved.” My voice sounds like I’ve been chewing gravel for days.
“Well, thank you for telling me,” she says after a long moment of silence.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper. I stare at the fire so long that I can see flames dancing in the darkness when I look away.
“Do you feel like you’ve paid your debt to society?” she suddenly asks.
I shrug. “The courts feel like I did.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever feel worthy of falling in love, having a family, and living a good life. I botched it all up so badly the first time.”
She jerks her thumb toward the tent. “That little boy loves you, and I’m sure he’s heard all the rumors about what happened to his mother. Kids can be cruel. And he loves you anyway.”
I grit out a laugh. “Kids have no sense of self-preservation.”
“He’s happy here with you.”
I nod. “He seems to be.”
“Do you still look at your phone while you’re driving?”
My head jerks so I can look at her. “Never. Ever.”
“Good.” She finally uncurls her legs and eases back a little, resting her head on the back of the chair. She stares up at the sky. “We all do stupid things from time to time. Thoughtless things. Things that we look back on and know were bad decisions.”
“I’m afraid mine will follow me for the rest of my life,” I admit. I finally bend my neck so I can wipe my face on my sleeve.
“It’ll only follow you for the rest of your life if you keep running from it,” she says, her voice strong but quiet.
And her comment sinks deep into the center of me.
“Don’t give me hope, Abigail,” I say, almost pleading. I let out a wet chuckle. “That’s the last thing I need.
She smiles. “I’m a little bit in like with you, so you’re going to have to give up on that.”
I lift my head to look at her. “Still?” Even after all that?
She nods, staring up at the sky. “Still.”
She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, and she holds it as we sit quietly and stare up at the stars. We sit there until the logs on the fire have become nothing more than small glowing embers, and I see her shiver.
“I had better get home,” she says over a yawn. She stands up.
“Do you have to?” I grin at her. I’ve never felt as much peace as I feel when she’s around.
Suddenly, a quacking sound comes from down the lane.
“Is that Wilbur?” she asks.
“Sounds like it.”
We both stand and watch as Wilbur toddles down the lane in the moonlight, and then he walks straight into the open door of the tent, settles onto his pile of blankets, and lays his head down.