“I’m sorry that you and your mom are fighting,” I said, laying my hand on his jaw.
“I meant what I said to her—”
“I know that.”
I lay back down and wrapped my arm around his waist as he sighed.
“How are you so sure all of a sudden?” he asked, his voice barely breaking the silence around us.
“Because,” I said simply, closing my eyes as I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to his heart beat. “You don’t use words to hurt people.”
* * *
The next morning, everything felt different. As soon as I heard Etta awake in her portable crib, I climbed out of bed and got dressed quietly, letting Trevor sleep in. He’d tossed and turned and I didn’t think he’d slept much.
I hated that I was causing such a problem between him and his mom, but I wasn’t about to become a martyr for her cause. I knew better than to think that if I disappeared things would go back to normal for them. Too much had been said, and she’d overstepped too badly for anything to be fixed that easily.
“Please tell me you didn’t make the coffee,” Trevor said groggily as he came into the kitchen.
“Of course not,” I replied, giving Etta her plate of scrambled eggs. “Even I don’t like my coffee.”
“I can show you how to do it,” he said, grinning as he shuffled to the coffeepot.
“But then I’d have to make it,” I pointed out, putting the rest of the eggs on two plates. “Why would I want that?”
“Good point,” he replied. He walked toward me and kissed me gently. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I whispered back.
He took the plates from me and carried them to the table, kissing the top of Etta’s head as he passed her.
“Hi Twevo,” Etta said, completely oblivious to the change in dynamics.
We ate breakfast in companionable silence and took the dog out for his morning constitutional, but we didn’t make it in to town for a midmorning movie like we’d planned because we had unexpected company.
“Shit,” Trevor mumbled as we watched his parents pull up the driveway.
I didn’t repeat his sentiment, but I felt it. The cape of invincibility I’d worn the night before had dissipated in the light of day, and I was suddenly feeling very exposed, even with Trevor standing right beside me. Knowing someone doesn’t like you is a gross feeling, and knowing that there’s nothing you can do to change their mind makes it even worse.
“Etta,” I said, calling her back to me when she started venturing toward the driveway. “Bring Koda over to the grass so he doesn’t hurt his paws on the gravel.”
My excuse for her to move away from her grandparents was flimsy, but thankfully it seemed to make sense to her, and she called Koda impatiently as she moved toward the side of the house.
“If they say anything shitty, take Etta into the house,” Trevor said quietly as his parents climbed out of the SUV. “I don’t think I can keep my cool.”
“Yes, you can,” I replied, resting a hand on his back in a quick touch of reassurance.
By the time Mike and Ellie reached us, my arms were crossed over my chest and Trevor had grown so tense I was afraid he would snap.
“I’m sorry,” his mom said, not bothering with a greeting. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
Trevor softened a little—I could tell by the set of his shoulders under the flannel he wore—but he didn’t say a word, just nodded.
“I’m having a hard time with all this,” Ellie said, chewing the inside of her cheek as she fidgeted.
“What she means to say is that she knows you’re an adult and you make your own decisions. And we support you in everything you do,” Mike added, his voice firm.
“I don’t want to lose another one of my boys,” Ellie said, her voice barely a whisper.
“That was never going to happen,” Trevor replied.
Everyone went silent then, unsure what was left to say. Ellie had apologized and Trevor had softened, but he didn’t make any attempt to continue the conversation. He also didn’t invite his parents inside.
“I love you,” Ellie said finally, stepping forward to give Trevor a long hug.
“I love you, too, Mom,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
When he didn’t say anything else, she gave him a watery smile and went back to the car, leaving his dad standing in the driveway with us.
“I’m real sorry about last night,” Mike said to me.
“It’s okay,” I replied.
“Well, no,” he said, tilting his head. “It’s not.” He looked at Trevor. “But we’re family, and family works through the hard times.”
“It might take me a minute,” Trevor told him honestly.
“Understandable.” Mike looked over at Etta and watched her crouch down to say something to Koda. “But we’d sure like to see you once in a while.”