“Yeah.” I dash up the rest of the stairs and step into the dim light spilling out of the open bedroom door. Weston’s large frame is bent over a bed. He kisses Jackson’s forehead and pulls up the blankets.
“Come here, honey.” Mrs. Dawson picks up on how upset I am right away and pulls me into a hug. If only she knew…
“Do you really think she’ll do it?” I whisper, not needing to explain what I’m referring to.
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Dawson pats my back, stepping away and motioning for me to follow her. She steps into the room across the hall, going right to the window which looks out at the street in front of the house. “I’ll be honest and say I never really liked Daisy, not even when she was just a teenager. I questioned her faithfulness to Wes while he was deployed, but that’s not the issue at hand.” She lets the curtains fall shut and turns back around to face me.
“Motherhood isn’t easy, and I’ll be the first to admit that. There were times when the idea of running away seemed like a dream come true. But never forever. A childless vacation can be a welcome—and needed—escape, but the thought of being away from my children…” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand how she did it. We thought maybe it was post-partum depression, and Wes did everything he could to find her the first time she left. They weren’t on good terms, but he was worried sick. And then she showed up at Jackson’s first birthday party, acting like nothing happened.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ve accepted that there are certain things you’ll never understand. People do unspeakable things for reasons that make sense to them and them alone. I’ve stopped seeking answers for questions that shouldn’t be answered.”
“That’s…that’s very wise.” My throat feels thick. Like I might burst into tears or puke or something.
“And don’t worry, honey. Weston cares deeply for you. He’s been smitten from the start. It was pretty obvious.”
I smile, wishing I could close my eyes and erase my past. “Yeah, it was obvious.” The stairs creak, and Quinn stops in the threshold of the room. She’s holding a phone, and the screen is glowing.
“Do you know the passcode to Wes’s phone?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “Why?”
“His motion sensors are going off.” She holds it up, and I see the alerts.
“Try Jackson’s birthday,” Mrs. Dawson suggests.
Quinn looks down at the phone. “Wes wouldn’t be that predictable—well, I guess he is.”
She opens up the security system app, impatiently tapping her fingers on the back of the phone case as she waits for it to load.
“Oh shit. It’s Daisy.”
“What?” Mrs. Dawson rushes over.
“She’s just sitting on the front porch. Looks like she’s waiting for someone to answer the door.” Quinn shakes her head. “She did say she wants to talk to Wes.” With a sigh, Quinn turns and goes down the hall.
And I’m back to not being able to breathe.
My heart beats loudly, echoing in my ears. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palm. Wes’s deep voice comes from the hallway, and the second he comes into view, I spring forward, wrapping my arms around him.
“Maybe if you ignore her, she’ll go away?” I say, attempting to make a joke. I’m shaking, and Wes holds me against his firm chest. Even now he’s calm and collected.
“I wish.”
“Then we should.” I don’t want to let him go. If I let him go, he’ll talk to Daisy. He’ll find out everything.
“Come get some coffee and something to eat,” Mrs. Dawson says softly. “Jackson and I made chocolate cake that I could use some help eating.”
“That sounds good,” Quinn says. She peeks in at Jackson before turning down the stairs. Mrs. Dawson goes down with her.
“You okay?” Wes asks, running his hands down my arms. “You seem freaked out.”
“Well, it’s not every day your boyfriend’s ex-wife storms back into town and under-the-table insinuates she’s going to kidnap her son.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I interrupt before he can go on. “This’ll blow over, right? It has before.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a deep sigh. “Fuck, it’s weird seeing her.”
“Yeah, that would be. Was she like this the last time she showed up?”
“No, not at all. The last time was even more fucked up. I came home from work and she was just there in the kitchen making dinner like it was something we did every night.”
“That is fucked up.”
“Yeah.” His eyes fall shut for a few seconds. “I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I need you to know that.”
“I know you don’t.”
He cups my face. “You’re the only one I want.”
Tears burn my eyes. Thankfully it’s too dark in the hall for Wes to see them. He puts his mouth to mine, kissing me hard and desperate.
“Do you want cake?” I ask, stepping in closer.
“Yeah.” He rests his head on mine for a moment. Then he steps back, takes my hand and goes downstairs.
The kitchen isn’t nearly as tense as it was a few minutes ago. Mrs. Dawson is talking to one of the twins on the phone, and Dean and Archer are very animatedly telling a story to Quinn about something that happened back in their college days. I can tell by the look on her face this isn’t the first time she’s heard the story.
Mr. Dawson brings Wes a cup of coffee and pats his back. God, this family is perfect, and their faults and flaws are exactly what make it so.
“What’s the plan?” Mr. Dawson asks Wes.
“I don’t know.” Wes takes a drink of coffee. “She’s not going to leave until I talk to her, so I should bite the bullet and just do it. I’ll give her copies of the papers I filed so she knows what’s going on. Part of me doubts she’ll even fight for Jackson.”
Mr. Dawson nods. “I agree. Lay everything out so she knows exactly what’s going on and then tell her if she wants to see or talk to you again, she’ll have to go through the legal system.”
Wes pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is the last thing I need right now.”
Shit, I almost forgot amidst all this chaos that the election is only days away. He told me he wasn’t nervous or stressed over it, but I know better.
“It’ll be okay in the end,” Mr. Dawson assures his son. “She’s been gone his whole life. There’s no way she can take him away from you.”
“Right.” Wes doesn’t look convinced. He takes another drink of coffee. “All right. Time to get this over with.”
I step forward, thinking I’m going with Wes. His face says otherwise.
“I think it’d be best if I go alone,” he tells me.
No. He can’t go alone. Because if he’s alone with her, there’s no telling what she’ll say. I won’t know. I’m slipping into panic mode, and part of me wants to run for the hills, seek cover, and never come back up to see the light of day again.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I put one hand on the counter to steady myself. “I can stay in the car or go inside.”