Chapter 13 - Gavin Asked to Come Home
“I want to see the house.”
“No.”
“Tessa—”
“No.”
“It was my home too.”
“Once.”
His voice cracked.
“I miss it.”
I understood.
But understanding wasn't permission.
“You don't miss the building,” I said. “You miss who you were when you lived here.”
Silence.
Maybe that was cruel.
Maybe it was true.
Gavin had been attending counseling.
He had stabilized his finances.
He was following the parenting arrangements.
I acknowledged improvement without pretending it erased history.
“I ruined everything,” he whispered.
“You damaged a lot.”
“Do you hate me?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
He sounded surprised.
“I don't have enough room in my life to hate you.”
That was the last personal conversation we had for a long time.
Afterward, I walked into the nursery.
Evelyn was standing against the crib rail.
Standing.
“June!”
My sister came running.
“What?”
“Look!”
Evelyn wobbled.
Then dropped onto her diapered bottom and laughed.
June started crying.
I started crying.
Nathan, who happened to be fixing a loose fence board outside, heard us and thought something terrible had happened.
Instead, he found three women celebrating a baby standing for four seconds.
He laughed too.
That evening, after Evelyn slept, Nathan and I sat on the porch.
“I think,” I said, “coffee might finally be allowed to become a date.”
His smile was slow.
May you like
“I've been waiting eleven months for you to say that.”
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