"Dad, huh?" Brady took another drink of beer. "Didn't see that one coming. I figured you'd tell me to talk to a counselor."
I shrugged. "It's an option. But it's better to go with someone you trust first. A guy who understands where you're coming from." I finished my beer and stood. "Which is why I showed up today. Thanks, by the way."
"I don't know that I helped you, without dragging my own shit into it."
"You did. After my injury I quit being the guy that let my ego and my dick make my decisions about how I spent my time off the field. But I needed the reminder that I'm not the guy who'll settle for a sexless existence either."
"Good." He walked me to the door. "You'll be at brunch tomorrow?"
"It depends on where I end up tonight. And no, I'm not assuming that I'll be rolling out of Rowan's bed in the morning. I need some distance. I thought I'd go up to the cabin."
Nineteen
ROWAN
Calder remained sick all day Saturday.
By Sunday at noon he'd bounced back as if the past thirty-six hours hadn't happened.
I'd enforced quiet time, which was almost harder for him than being sick . . . until he discovered the brand-new puppies puzzle Jensen had left on the table with the crackers and ginger ale. He'd settled in to work on the puzzle, asking me only every other hour when Jensen was coming over.
I wish I knew.
I'd sent Jensen a text this morning giving him an update on Calder.
His response?
Thnx.
That'd been it.
Since then I'd been restless.
And it hadn't helped it'd been so quiet in the apartment complex that I could hear the elevator ding down the hallway.
I listened to the comings and goings of our neighbors in the eight apartments in our wing of the building.
I heard Lenka and Bob the building manager talking about the sticky sections of asphalt in front of the mailboxes.
I heard Inga and her sister Isla, both professional ice skaters from the Ukraine who spoke limited English, giggling and teasing each other in their native language.
I heard Joseph and Dieter, a married couple from Germany, both figure skating teachers, arguing about whose turn it was to clean out the cat box.
I heard Isabel, the cyclist from Switzerland, holding a conversation in French on her phone as she walked past toward her apartment-the last one on this floor.
Mischa and Pavel's apartment across from Isabel's sat empty while they visited family in Hungary.
Beatrice, a former biathlete, now a flight attendant for Icelandic Air, was in Iceland for a month visiting her kids, so her place was empty too.
I heard nothing from Jensen's apartment. No music or TV. I'd become so attuned to him that I knew how his keys sounded when he shoved them in the lock. A sound I hadn't heard since Friday night.
Because I obsessed about . . . everything really, I replayed Friday's events over and over.
Trying to figure out if I'd misread our post-Calder-vomiting conversation.
Calder comes first for me. Every single time.
As he should.
But?
No buts. Your dedication to being there for your son will never be an arguable point for me.
Then what are we arguing about?
Nothing. I had to force you to take my help tonight. All I'm asking is, next time? Don't fight me on it. Save us both the time and wasted energy and accept it.
There'll be a next time?
Well, if I have any say in it . . . yes.
Had he meant it?
Maybe the better question was . . . had I? Why would a man want to get involved with me if he knew he'd never be my priority?
Ding ding.
Maybe Jensen had realized that. Maybe his silence indicated he'd decided we were better off just being friends, casual friends, before things became too complicated.
You're making things complicated. You're making excuses. When all you need to do is make a few changes.
I heard Daisy telling me: I hate that you've equated selfless with sexless. It's always made me sad that you put your physical needs at the bottom of your "life priority" list.
Even Talia had given me advice: But I don't hear from Calder that you let him play with those kids very often. Only if you're with him. Do you think that's best? Given he's got a built-in social network so close by? It'd be good for him, as an only child, to develop some interpersonal skills . . . Because I think some separation would be good for you too.
I loved my son. I was a good mother, but I was more than just a mother.
As Jensen had pointed out: You're allowed a night of fun. You're a great mom, but that's not all you are. You are crazy, sexy hot, baby.
The only way I could believe that was to enforce it. Take a few steps back. Reassess. Give Calder room to grow and develop friendships. Pursue friendships myself with other parents. I'd feel more comfortable loosening the reins with Calder if I knew how quickly the other kids' parents jerked back their reins on their kids if they stepped out of line. That meant taking the time to get to know them.