Gripping the handle above, I twist to face her. When I first saw her today, I knew her hair was down, but sitting across from her like this is surreal. It’s like meeting someone face to face after only talking to them online or something.
Long and down in waves, her hair curls under her full breasts, hiding her nipples and most of her cleavage. I’m glad about that because if she drives anyone else, I wouldn’t want them ogling her. Not even through the windshield.
“Tell me about that day. If you want to.” I want to know anything and everything about Beck, but I realize she’s been through shit.
She smooths her palms down her thighs, pushing out a breath. “He didn’t plan it that way, it was just an unlucky thing.” I want more than anything to waffle our fingers together and hold her hand while she tells me, but it’s too soon.
“We’d been trying for a long time. Years.” She looks so tired as she remembers it, staring off into the distance through the bug-splattered windshield. “I was so excited to tell him. I mean, things hadn’t been great for a long time. Trying–when two peoplereallywant a child–can be…trying. But,” she pauses, taking an extra breath to prepare herself, I think. Like the story is about to take another turn down a road that clearly sucks. “Trying when one person really wants a child and the other person is an utter jackhole all while pretending to be Prince Charming—”
“I see why you need jackhole,” I tell her. “I would’ve used about five other words right now if you hadn’t created jackhole.”
She smiles. “Tell me about it.”
“What did he say when you told him?” I want to know the full story. I fuckingneedto know.
“I said, it finally happened and I have an ultrasound to prove it. I told him I heard the heartbeat, too. And he literally said nothing in response to that. After years, he didn’t even verbally acknowledge it. He just said,I want a divorce, I’m in love with someone else.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, anger surging through my veins. Anger I wish I could release on this fucking tool. He was lucky enough to meet her while she was single, make her his wife, get between those fucking beautiful thighs and make a baby with her, and he fucking walked away?
This douche deserves a fist to the dome, that’s for goddamn sure. “So, what did you do?” She’s here with Jett and this fucking loser isn’t, so I know how it ends, but the story in the middle is just as important.
“I did everything I could to make it work with us, despite the fact he didn’t want me at all. Like, at all.”
I clench my teeth, making my jaw ache.
“I asked him to do couples counseling, marriage counseling, single person therapy… you name it. And I did it. I went to couples counseling alone for eight weeks, I saw a shrink, I read the books, I did the things.”
I rest my palm on her knee, safe from sexual intentions. “I bet you did.”
She doesn’t meet my eyes, but rather stares at the digital temperature reading on her dash, the neon green telling us it's only fifty-two degrees out.
“I did it for Jett. I tried for Jett. But he didn’t want to join, and so two days before I gave birth, our divorce was finalized.” She answers a question glaring in my brain. “He didn’t come to the hospital when Jett was born.”
“When did you move here?”
She sighs. “It took me seven months to find a house here in Oakcreek that would be close to my mom and dad and be worth buying.” She looks at me now, before looking at where my hand kneads her knee. “We were up in Willowdale before.”
Jett snores from the backseat.
“Does…he… seehim?”
“Dustin,” she clarifies, and now the biggest fucking idiot on the planet has a name. “And no, Dustin does not see his son.”
She rests her hand on top of mine, and somehow, our fingers lace. My senses grow hot and fuzzy, but I keep myself together for her. “You were so happy at just the idea that Jett knew your name and said it. And we’ve only known you for three weeks.” She squeezes then releases my hand, sending me the sign to take my hand back. I do.
“You’re special, Beau.”
“Or Dustin’s just a complete jackhole.”
She smiles, but sadness lingers in her expression.
“Go out with me, Beck.” I’ve never wanted her to say yes more than I do right this second.
She smiles with more sadness than a moment ago, and I know I’m fucked, and not in a good way. “I can’t, Beau. I’m sorry.”
Beck drives me the rest of the way to work, and I say goodbye to Jett, despite the fact he’s asleep, then say my goodbye to her through the window.
“I told you I won’t stop asking.”