“Absolutely.” His bright blue eyes were clear, his gaze firm. “I never thought I’d say this to anyone, Erin, but I want you in my life. Completely. And that means you’ll be in Madison’s life, too.” He reached for my hand again. “But if you decide that’s too much for you, I’ll understand.”
He looked so heartbroken at the possibility, a fresh wave of tears broke, and I tried to stifle my sobs so we wouldn’t attract attention. Already I felt the censure of people’s stares. You’d turn away a man who loves you just because he has an innocent little child?
But they didn’t understand what it felt like to fall in love with someone and have that person turn out to be someone else! Ever since my mother had told me about his daughter, I’d felt like I couldn’t catch my balance. Everything was off kilter. I needed solid ground under my feet again in order to think clearly, and that was only going to happen with a little distance to gain perspective. Being in a relationship with a man who had a child wasn’t anything to take lightly.
With a viselike sadness squeezing my heart, I hugged him goodbye outside. He held me for a full minute while I wept on his shoulder. Then he kissed my cheek and let me go.
#
Later that night, I curled up in bed alone, cursing myself for changing the sheets since he’d last spent the night. I wished I could smell him again. I wished I could hear his voice. I wished I could see his silhouette in the darkness, moving above me.
With no more tears left to cry, I wrapped my arms and legs around my body pillow and lay completely still, begging God to give me the answers I needed.
God must have been terribly busy the next two weeks. Because despite a lot of badgering on my part (I went to mass with my mother, did a couple shifts at the soup kitchen, prayed nightly), He remained irritatingly silent on the subject of Charlie and me. Come on, I pleaded, lifting my eyes to the ceiling in church. Just give me a sign. Aren’t I a decent person? Don’t I deserve some peace of mind? Is this because of the things I did with Tony? I didn’t know he was going to be a priest!
Nothing.
Mia and Coco were no better. They refused to tell me what to do, insisting that I make my own decision. But they never let me feel alone—they met me for coffee or lunch, they invited me to dinner at their houses on Saturday nights, they asked for help with things like painting and shopping for furniture in an effort to keep me busy. My mother asked me a few times about Charlie, but I simply said we’d been too busy to see each other much lately. She knew something was up, but miraculously, didn’t press me. I felt bad about not confiding in her, but Coco and Mia were right—I had to make my own decision.
As for Charlie, he texted me once or twice to let me know he was thinking of me, but for the most part, he kept his distance, which was what I needed.
I spent huge chunks of time asking myself the hard questions. Could I forgive Charlie for lying? Could I trust him? Could I handle coming second in Charlie’s life? Could I deal with an ex-wife who might be resentful and cause trouble? What if Madison disliked me? What if she was jealous of me? What if I disliked her? I knew that wasn’t likely, because in general I adored kids and enjoyed teaching them, but every now and then I did meet a child who was too whiny or entitled or sullen to have fun with.
But I kept picturing that little gap-toothed smile, all those little frog tattoos, the big, delighted blue eyes. She didn’t look whiny or sullen; she looked darling. I wanted to meet her—this little piece of Charlie he cherished so much. I wanted to see them together, wanted to know what he was like as a dad. When I thought about the way he’d been so kind to those two little girls last month, my heart melted. I bet he was so sweet with Madison—which was such a turn-on.
And I missed him. God, how I missed him.
No matter how busy I stayed, no matter where I was or who I was with, a memory of Charlie would surface and I’d be unable to move, speak, breathe.
His calm, hushed voice telling me not to come.
My hair dangling, the ends brushing his chest.
A pink ribbon binding my wrists.
Blue eyes turned copper by the fire.
The pulse of his orgasm inside me.
There were sweet memories too—watching him hang my kitchen shades, skating at Campus Martius, eating pizza and ice cream on the couch, holding hands at the ballet, kissing at Cliff Bell’s. I even missed the way he made fun of my clean floors and organized cupboards.
And the more time that went by, the less I worried about his daughter—the real threat, I realized, wasn’t a seven-year-old girl or even a vindictive ex-wife.
It was fear.
Fear of being in a situation I couldn’t control, a mess I could not clean up, a relationship that wasn’t neat and tidy and safe. But maybe if I wanted to be happy, I had to let go of safe.
Ten days later, I was nearly ready to call him back and tell him I wanted to try.
#
Coco and I sat on the floor at Mia and Lucas’s house the following Friday night, watching Mia put paint samples on the wall of the room that would be the nursery. She wasn’t due until July, and she had no idea if the baby would be a boy or a girl, but she wanted the room painted a soft gray either way. While she worked, I rambled on about Charlie, fretting about my decision to call him back.
“I’m just so terrified.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I feel like this is a critical moment, you know? Like I’m at this serious juncture of my life and one wrong move could just blow the whole thing.”
Coco laughed sympathetically, stretching her long legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles. “I totally get that. This is a big deal.”