"Something up with work?" I asked, wiping off the counter.
"No. It's a text from my mom. She wants me to come to Arizona and meet my family."
The next day, Friday evening, Jake, Roberto, and I boarded a plane for Arizona to go see his mom. Rob had never been on an airplane before, so he chattered away, asking all kinds of questions about planes and the airport, because he was so excited. I was grateful to Jake for answering all of his questions.
He always seemed to have patience for Rob and genuinely paid attention to him. Sometimes I didn't do that. But I wanted to not think about the things I did wrong as a mom. I wanted to think about the things I did right.
Since I had custody, I could take my son wherever I wanted, but I sent Carlos a text about what we were doing, just to be courteous.
I didn't receive a courteous reply.
Nevertheless, it was an adventure for all of us, not just for Rob as his first trip on a plane, but also for me as a trip to learn more about Jake, and for Jake because his mom had been vague on the details for the reasons that he needed to come. He figured it had something to do with money. She had told him that she needed to see him immediately, that he had to sign some papers related to his grandparents, and that she wanted him to meet his brother and sister.
A not-so minor detail.
His half-brother Shawn, twenty-one, and half-sister, Veronika, nineteen, were part of his mom's new family. Apparently, after Jake's mom left him and his dad, she went back to her pedigreed parents, then met a wealthy new man, a plastic surgeon, and started a family in Phoenix.
Jake had never met them. I couldn't believe that he had a brother, sister, and stepdad that he'd never met. It blew my mind. What kind of mother never saw her child? Never had her son meet her other children? Well, since he'd never met his grandparents, I guess that it wasn't surprising. He told me that he saw his mom on rare occasions, having invited her to his graduations, but she'd never brought his half-brother and sister along. I mentally shook my head.
Still, she meant enough to Jake for him to drop everything and go to her when she asked. Evidence that there was a binding tie between mother and child that could not be cut.
Or that's what I thought. But what he said was, "I want to meet my brother and sister. I need to know them. Even if this is about money, which I'm sure it is, I don't want to die without meeting my brother and sister."
Good.
My new condition had not really settled in for me. Besides the physical discomfort of early pregnancy, emotionally, I was raw. I still hadn't internalized it. I'd sworn off alcohol and started taking a vitamin, but that was it.
I hadn't told Rob yet either, although I planned on telling him soon. But I first had to have a talk with him about Jake. Yes, he knew that Jake stayed over, and yes, he had seen me kiss Jake. But I hadn't actually talked to him about it.
Further, I needed to have a talk with Jake about Jake. I mean it was a relief to know that he loved me and that he said he was going to stay by me, but we had a lot to discuss about our future. We were going to be parents together.
But then I saw Jake buying Rob a hot chocolate and a Minecraft magazine in the airport, leaning over to listen to Rob chatter about some environment you could create in Minecraft. And any man who paid that much attention to my son was going to be a good father.
We arrived in Phoenix late. By the time we got to the hotel room, it was after ten o'clock at night, way past Rob's bedtime.
When we walked into the hotel room, just like in Las Vegas, there were two beds. As a mom, this was yet again a minor crisis moment. Did Rob sleep with me like in Vegas or did I sleep with Jake the way I did now? While I'd been sleeping with Jake at our house, we were careful to keep it from Rob.
Taking a deep breath, I decided that it was okay for Rob to be in his own bed, and for Jake and me to be in the other. If Jake was going to be the father of Rob's brother or sister, he could see us sleep together.
It still felt like a big step.
After Jake had received the text from his mom on Thursday, and we'd hastily made arrangements to come to Phoenix, we discussed how we were going to share the news of my pregnancy. Because of the fears of something going wrong in early pregnancy, I wanted to wait. But we agreed we'd still tell my parents, his dad, and my friends, Georgie and Sara, after the first ultrasound.
It was going to be hard to keep it from Rob that long, however, with me getting sick every morning. While a twelve-year-old boy wouldn't pick up on the diagnosis, he was sensitive enough to know when Mom was sick.
But different than the last time I was pregnant, though, was the very fact of Jake in my life. In the short time since I'd found out, I caught him looking at me and smiling for no reason. When we slept that night, he spent an inordinate amount of time making tiny circles with his fingers on my belly. And while he showed me affection as he always did, everything felt a little sweeter-the kisses on my nose, the way he played with my hair, and the hugs he gave when he got home from work, were all more intense. More meaningful. All of this was new to me, but it was also gratifying. I trusted Jake and I wanted him in my life, in every part of it.
We set down our luggage in the hotel room, and I turned to him. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" I said quietly. He nodded and we went off by the front door, while Rob rummaged in his bag for his pajamas. "I want to tell Rob about us but we haven't really talked about us."
He reached out to hold my hand. "I want to be with you forever. However you need to tell him I'm your boyfriend, you're my girlfriend, that's fine." He'd said it to his dad in the hospital, but somehow, we'd skipped that discussion amongst ourselves. "Are you okay with that?"
"Yeah. You're my boyfriend."
"Okay," he whispered. "We agree. Do you want me to go get some ice?"
I nodded. God. This man. He knew to give me privacy with my son. My Jake. I let go of his hand, walked over to Rob, and sat down on the bed beside him, while Jake took a key and the ice bucket, and left.
I looked at my sweet boy.
"Mijo, Mister Jake is going to be around us more. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, Mom. He's your boyfriend, right?"
Of course he already knew that, but it was strange to hear it from my son's mouth. I'd never been close enough to any man for them to meet my son. This was huge.
"Yes."
"He's cool. I like him. Don't worry."
Step one, done. I'd worry about step two, telling Rob he was getting a sibling, later. When Jake came back, we got ready for bed and went to sleep-me, cuddled platonically with Jake, my son sleeping in the next bed. Again, it felt like we were creating our own little family.
I wondered what it would be like in the morning with Jake's other family.
"Jacob!" cried a raven-haired woman, striking in designer jeans, a peasant blouse, and turquoise jewelry. She ran out of the silly-huge house to greet us. And now it began.
That morning, Saturday, I'd woken up in Jake's arms, nauseous but so warm and comfortable. Rob slept peacefully in the other bed. Turning over, I wriggled into him and looked up as he opened his eyes. First thing in the morning, sleepy, stubbly, hair wonky, in bed? My Jake was a superb guy.
"Morning," he said, and kissed me lightly.
"Morning, guapo," I returned, happy to have this quiet moment with him, before what was sure to be a day of . . . something. Revelations? Connections? Boredom? Drama?
I think the fact that we had no idea what to expect made us both agitated.
He rubbed his fingers on my shoulder and started talking. "I dreamed last night that I had an art gallery, all my own. It was white, airy. It had good lighting and it was in a nice part of town. I had a room for myself, and all of my pictures were up." He looked wistful. "There was a whole wall of portraits of you." I rubbed my nose into his chest, snuggling harder. "That would never happen, though, because they're too intimate. They're just for you and me."
I tilted my head to the side, thoughtful. "Maybe. But I'm a professional, remember. I don't mind. I think that intimacy makes them really good."
He shook his head. "No, I'm not sharing those. Anyway, I don't really want to own an art gallery, I don't think. But it would be nice to have a show and feel like a real artist."
"You are a real artist."
"Well, one who puts work out there."
"When we get back, let's look at that art space collective in Ventura. The one that's housed in an old school."
He looked interested. "Yeah? I've never been there."
"I bet we could get you some show space."
"I'd like that." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "It still stresses me out to not be at work, you know. Hate to admit that. I worked those crazy hours for so long. Before we left, I gave away a bunch of cases to other attorneys in the office so I could let go of it. I had to."
"Yay," I whispered.
"I keep expecting things to go wrong or to be asked questions about it. I keep thinking of what's going on in the office. And I'm trying not to, but it doesn't feel right."