"WHAT'S WRONG?" TESS and I ask at the same time when she opens the door. Her brow is drawn in a mirror of my own, JT cradled in her arm, red-faced and fussing.
"Here, let me take him," I say, already reaching for my wiggling little guy.
"He had a hard time with his bottle. I think he's hungry." Pressing her fingers against his cheek, she checks his forehead next.
"Is he sick?" I rush inside as panic slices through me, even as I loosen my shirt to breastfeed. I sink down on the couch next to Gus. JT suckles and I relax by letting my head fall back on the suede sofa. Just for a second, I squeeze my baby and press the last two hours out of my mind before looking to make sure he's okay. His color evens out as his little body molds against me. But he's not eating.
"He's fine," Tess says, but she has lines in her forehead that aren't usually there. "He's just been restless, fussy. Could be gas."
I nod and look down, smoothing JT's hair as he closes his eyes. "I'll call his pediatrician if he gets any worse."
"Good." Tess wrings her hands in front of her stomach. "Now tell me what happened."
I shake my head. "I'm not really sure. It feels like the night imploded."
"Hold that thought. I'll make some decaf."
I nod and sink into the cushions as Gus lays his head in my lap. My mind wanders to college and the one class that threw me for a loop. I'm no genius, but I worked hard to keep up my GPA, and when I walked the stage at graduation I had summa cum laude ribbons around my neck. But that one course rocked my foundation; I didn't get it. Not the first or second time I sat through the lectures. I hated it. I hated not understanding or grasping the concept behind applied linguistics. But the third time around, with an open mind and a willingness to try, I rocked the shit out of the syllabus and everything clicked. I was high on knowledge and comprehending what took so long to understand.
Caden makes me feel like I did during the endless lectures and when I walked out stunned and angry that I was stumped. But when I finally gave in, when it was just the two of us playing with pillows and rocking on a chair, everything made sense. Last night I swam in euphoria from letting my guard down and giving in to the desire to just be with him, just him, without worrying about the past or if it was too soon. I'd conquered my fear. And it was the sweetest success.
Something has changed. Whatever that something is, it's taking him in the opposite direction from me. My heightened pulse knows the signs. A girl always knows when a boy pulls away from her.
I brush the shimmering knowledge off and straighten my spine. It's nothing-it has to be nothing. We can't fall apart in twenty-four hours. But I know that's not true. One moment can alter the course of many, and right now feels so different than when we were in the shower.
"Spill it, doll," Tess says, startling me out of my thoughts and handing over a mug.
I do. The whole sordid truth rolls off my tongue. Tess listens attentively as I give a brief review of our dates, a G-rated version of our pillow fight, and then from when I woke up alone this morning to when his hot ex-girlfriend walked in to The Little Bird, my jealousy and insecurities, and all the way through to twenty minutes ago when Tess's son left with three people from his past. By the time I'm done, JT sleeps, albeit restlessly, on the couch next to me with my hand rubbing his stomach. Sometimes he squirms and fusses from gastro issues, so I think back to what I ate that may be upsetting him. Nothing comes to mind.
"Piper, honey, Caden is a complex man." Tess holds up her hand when my lips part. "I'm not making excuses for him tonight. He might be complex, but he's also an ass. It's a trait he got from his father. A trait as frustrating as it can be attractive sometimes. At least to me."
Tess smiles and walks over to a closet at the end of her short hallway. When she comes back, she has a photo album. Slipping a four-by-six picture from the plastic casing, she hands it to me. Aged into a too bright patina, the colors give way to a young Caden, a mini-me of his father. The two of them ham it up for the camera with big grins and rabbit ears behind each of their heads.
"He's eight there, and Gavin not yet twenty-nine. We got married at eighteen and the kids were born a year later." She strokes another photo in the album with her fingers, one I can't see, and her eyes glisten with moisture.
"Gavin and Caden were so close-not to say Cara didn't have a similar love for her daddy, but Cade and him, they were something special together. Caden was heartbroken when Gavin left. We all were, but Cade internalized everything, blamed himself when Gavin's leaving had nothing to do with the kids or me."
"Why'd he go?"