“See, Mama? Did it myself.” Jett pads into the kitchen wearing his pajamas and a smile. According to him, being four means he’s too big for me to help him get dressed anymore, so I grin right back at him, pretending the tag by his collarbone belongs there.
“Look at you!” I drop to a squat and pull him in for a hug. “Good job, sweet pea.”
“Stay up a little bit more?” he asks, knowing darn well I already told him it was past bedtime. In fact, the only reason he’s still up is because we took a walk down to the lake after dinner and got caught up in a conversation with the neighbors. It was nice to see them again and I didn’t want to be rude.
“Five more minutes, but in your bed, okay? We’ll read a book.”
“Yay!” He grabs my hand and tugs me down the hall to my old room. He bounds onto the bed… and I remember that we don’t actually have any books here.
“Oh, boo. I forgot to bring books from home.”
He tugs back the blankets like it’s no big deal and says, “Tell me the princess story.”
“The princess story?” I laugh softly, pulling the covers up to his chin as he snuggles in. We have no less than a hundred books in his room at home, but I can’t recall a single princess story.
“Uh huh.” He nods. “The mama princess.”
My hands still against him as curiosity gets the best of me. “I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me the princess story?”
“I’ll show you.” Barely settled, he throws back the blankets and is out of bed and across the room to the backpack Jesse sent with him to Grammy’s last week. He unzips and pulls out a handful of colorful papers. Art, I quickly realize, and what looks like lined paper where he’s practiced his letters.
“Oh, wow, were you making pictures with Grammy?”
“Yup.” He plops the stack of drawings down on the bed next to me. “See.” He hands me a crayon-drawn picture of a blonde stick figure in a long pink dress. She’s wearing a crown and she’s holding something blue in her arms. “There’s the baby,” Jett says, stabbing his little finger at the bundle.
“Oh, my goodness, you drew this?” He nods proudly. “You did a very good job, Jett Alexander.”
“Thank you,” he mutters, and crawls up next to me. “Her has a baby ‘cause her was lonely.”
My heart clenches in my chest and my breath lodges in my throat. “She… she does?” I rasp, as sudden emotion hits me.
“Uh huh. Her was lonely and so was the prince, so they made a baby so they wouldn’t be lonely no more.” He points to the only other image on the page—a smaller stick figure with a crown, as well, standing away from the princess.
I gulp against the pressure, something telling me I already know this story. I just haven’t heard it told like this.
“Why is the prince way back there?” I ask as tears sting in my eyes.
“He’s waiting for his turn with the baby.”
“His turn?” I squeak, barely able to breathe let alone talk.
“Uh huh.” Jett leans his head against my shoulder. “When the princess is lonely, she gets to hold the baby and, when the prince is lonely, he gets to take the baby home and hold him.”
A strangled sob bursts from my lungs and I pull Jett into my lap, squeezing him tight as tears slip down my cheeks.
“Who told you that story?” I rasp, even though I already know the answer.
“Daddy did,” Jett says, before pushing away and blinking up at me. “Why you crying?”
“Because I liked the story.” And I loved that Jesse shared it with him. “Your daddy loves you very much, doesn’t he?”
He nods. “Uh huh.”
“What do you think about staying here in the cabin for a while, just me and you? So, you can see Daddy more?”
“Yay!” he says excitedly, bouncing back toward his pillow. “He won’t be lonely like the prince!”
And just like that, my heart shatters.
Thankfully, Jett tucks himself under the blankets and, after stifling a yawn, mutters, “Love you, Mama.”
I somehow manage to kiss him good night, tell him I love him, too, and sneak out of the room before the dam of tears bursts.
Reading Jesse’s letter and knowing how he’d felt was difficult. Knowing he’d set those feelings aside in order to co-parent with me was also hard.
But contemplating just how hard it must have been for him back here in Cole Creek while Jett was so far away and I was with someone else is too much for me to even comprehend.
And yet he showed up for our little boy every time he was supposed to with a smile on his face. All the while, it probably killed him inside.
Maybe I’m assuming too much. Maybe my own feelings at the moment are making me overdramatic.
But I don’t think I’m that far off base, because a man doesn’t describe himself as a lonely prince if there isn’t some truth to it.
I should have told him how I felt that summer.
I should have told him he meant more to me, so that, even if things didn’t work out for us, he would have known that I cared.
But instead, I kept my mouth shut. I let fear take over and I hid from the truth. And, in turn, I hurt him. I hurt him and he continued to show up for me and our son like I hadn’t.
I can’t tell him the truth now and risk hurting him again. It would be the most selfish thing I could possibly do to a man who’s been anything but.
Swiping erratically at my tears, I pad back to the kitchen and grab my phone. Jesse asked me to let him know when Jett went to bed, but I don’t dare call him like this. So, I text Hannah instead.
He’s seeing someone.
She replies immediately. Oh, honey, I’m sorry.
It’s new, but I can tell he likes her. I almost tell her about Jett’s story, but decide not to. It feels too personal and I don’t want to take that away from Jesse. She’s gorgeous. A local. The settling down type.
Ugh. How new is new?
Not sure. Jett’s met her, though. He likes her.
Well, I don’t.
I laugh through my tears. I don’t want to like her, but I can’t be happy for Jesse and hate her at the same time. It doesn’t work that way.
I knew there was a chance he’d moved on, I text. And it was selfish of me to hope he hadn’t.
You still need to tell him how you feel.
Han, I can’t. I can’t sweep in and screw up his life again.
I’ll say it again—not telling him got you into this situation. At some point, you have to try a different approach.
That’s why I’m going to be his friend.
You’ve been his friend.
Not like I wanted to be. Not only would it have hurt Lane, but letting myself care about Jesse any more than I already had would have been torture. It’ll still be torture now, but it’s what he would do for me. It’s what he’s already done.
Hannah more or less tells me I’m crazy, I tell her I love her anyway, and we say good night.
Since the tears have slowed to a trickle, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and change. Maybe by the time I’m done, I’ll be in better shape to call Jesse. After I down a glass of wine, of course.
Ten minutes later, as I twist my hair up into a fresh top knot, a knock sounds at the front door and every muscle in my body freezes.