I wipe the last of my tears. “How is a single woman so smart when it comes to relationships?” I mean it to be playful and teasing, but when her face straightens, I immediately feel guilty. I’m just a fucking bitch tonight, aren’t I? “I didn’t mean anything by that,” I say quickly.
She puts on a brave face. “I can’t be butthurt when I haven’t told you anything that’s happened. So don’t worry. It’s fine, I knew what you meant, and yes, before you ask, we will talk soon.”
I nod.
“You going to apologize to Beau?”
I look at the clock hanging on the wall near the TV. It’s too late to leave, and I’m exhausted from crying. Not to mention, I probably look like absolute shit. “I’ll talk to him. Tomorrow.”
We say goodnight after Goldie asks me ten more times if I’m sure I’m okay. And I am.
I think.
Because Goldie was absolutely right about everything that she said, I do need to let go of the idea that Jett’s birth father will have any role in his life. It just feels like I have to make absolutely sure.
I text my dad before I go to bed, asking if he and mom can watch Jett for a few hours in the morning. I tell him I have some things to do down at the studio and he easily agrees.
I hardly get a wink of sleep thinking about the things I have to say tomorrow.
* * *
Two times.
That’s how many times Jett randomly called out for Beau while I was getting him ready for my parents’ house this morning.
Two.
He was looking over his shoulder at his bedroom door the first time. And the second he was nursing, popping off to look up and around.
I’m certain he was looking for him, that he… misses him.
After leaving him with my dad–who happens to be wearing his World’s Grayest Pop Pop shirt today–I smiled, I waved, I pretended to have my mind on the studio as I slipped outside and got into my car.
Now that I’m five minutes away from Dustin’s current house, which is our old vacation house, I’m starting to think this was an absolutely awful idea. If for some weird reason Beau somehow found out I was doing this, he’d be so hurt. I’d be crushed if he revisited a person from his past while we were fighting.
But this isn’t aboutus.
This is for Jett. The last time I will make this attempt for him. I won’t lose Beau over this. I just… won’t.
When I park on the street in front of our vacation house (the only property of ours just in his name), I expect to be overrun with sadness, to have memories of the past sweep through me, leaving me broken and lost.
Instead, all I can smell is the candy-tuft trillium blooming curbside. I hated those stupid yellow flowers the moment I saw them. I told Dustin I wanted them replaced with maybe lavender or freesia, and he just rolled his eyes, accusing me of being difficult over nothing, that it was just a vacation home and those things didn’t matter.
I sneeze as I slam my car door shut and make my way up the cobblestone path. The house or him or both, I’m not sure, but this little journey is starting to feel a lot like a nightmare.
I wait an unnerving amount of time for Dustin to answer the door after I both knock and push the button on his Ring doorbell.
For the first few seconds, after he opens up, he just blinks at me like I’m a stranger, and it’s then that I realize… he’s loaded and genuinely doesn’t recognize me. A lump jumps up my throat just as a slim blonde comes to his side, looping her hand all the way around his waist. And it looks like the journey is longer now than it was when I was with him.
“What?” he slurs.
“I just want to make sure thatyou’resure.”
The blonde looks up at him adoringly, and I swear to God, bile climbs up my throat. He stifles a belch with the collar of his shirt. “Are you sure, babe?” the blonde asks, and then I realize… that’s not even the woman he left me for. It’s someone else entirely. I want to roll my eyes, but he’s not worth the gesture.
“Dustin, are you sure you don’t want any part of Jett’s life?”
The blonde pushes off him just slightly. “Who’s Jett?”