Brendan looked stunned, like he’d never expected this, like this entire time had always been about preparing for Simon to be gone, preparing for another loss. His eyes started to glisten. My son, who never cried, was tearing up. Not because he fell and got hurt, but because he loved Simon. It was as simple as that. He’d been holding back from allowing himself to feel that love because he was sure he would lose him.
That sort of sounded like someone else I knew.
Simon looked ready to tear up himself as he smiled. “Please tell me those are happy tears…”
Brendan nodded and said, “Really happy.”
“C’mere.” Simon pulled him into a hug.
My heart was melting as my son released a breath into Simon’s shoulder.
If Brendan was able to finally exhale, maybe I could, too.
That night, after I tucked Brendan in, Simon was waiting for me in the living room. He’d poured two glasses of wine and set them aside. He had his big feet up on the coffee table as he waited for me.
I didn’t know why I was so nervous all of a sudden. It was probably because I knew it was time to unload all of the things I’d needed to say but hadn’t.
Simon could sense my tension. He opened his arms, encouraging me to join him on the couch. “Come here, you.”
I took my place next to him and curled my body into his chest.
He spoke before I had the chance.
“I’d like to stay in my old room indefinitely. It’s too much too soon for him, otherwise.”
I looked up at him. “I agree.”
“I’m not his father. Regardless of what you saw today, it’s not my intention to replace anyone. It’s a lot for any kid to see someone moving into his mum’s bedroom. I don’t care how much he looks up to me, that would be weird for him right now.”
“Thank you for understanding that.” There was so much more I needed to say. I took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology for my behavior when you came back from England. I had gotten into a mode of self-protection, and it was really hard to break free from the pattern. I was truly convinced that you would be gone from my life and that I needed to protect my heart. Today, though, it really sank in that you’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not, Bridget. And as much as it pains me to apologize for firing that Noel or whatever his name was, I’m also sorry I overstepped my bounds and angered you.”
“You weren’t totally off base about him. He had tried to ask me out.”
Simon looked like the vein in his neck was about to pop. “Fuck. I knew it. I’ll break him if he ever comes around again.”
Smiling slightly, I said, “I didn’t entertain it for even a second. I was so distraught when you were gone. I couldn’t think of anything else. And then when you came back, it felt like a dream. You’d told me everything I’d ever wanted to hear. And it just seemed too good to be true. The fear just paralyzed me.”
“You want to talk about fear? I know I said the words aren’t important, but you don’t think my heart skipped a beat when you didn’t tell me you loved me back? You don’t think I wake up in the middle of the night wondering if you’ll ever love me as much as you loved him?”
Ben.
It never occurred to me that Simon had any hang-ups about that.
The vulnerability in his eyes in that moment was something I’d never seen from him before.
My truest feelings were really hard to admit. I’d never uttered them aloud until now. But his openness deserved reciprocation.
“Doesn’t God only give you one soulmate? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? But, Simon, I feel things for you that I’ve never felt for anyone. I will always love my husband. But I love you so much. You wake up in the middle of the night wondering if I can love you as much as I loved him? Well, I’ve lost sleep feeling guilty that maybe I will grow to love you more. And that sometimes makes me so sad for him that I don’t now how to handle it.”
I was a sick fuck that it gave me pleasure to hear her say that— as much as it had also broken my heart that her feelings for me caused her that kind of torment.
She’d felt things for me that she hadn’t felt for him.
It’s not a contest, Simon.
What mattered most was that she finally said the words I’d longed for—that I’d counted on hearing when I said goodbye to my parents and my nan and told them I’d likely not be returning anytime soon.
As much as she’d given me what I needed tonight, I also realized the way in which she’d admitted her love was bittersweet. The shadow of her late husband would always be present. I should have never made her feel like she needed to compare us. But love breeds insecurity, making people weak and needy.