“What makes me uncomfortable is how I left things with my family.” My heart said I had to make amends. My conscience said I would never deserve forgiveness from them. “It’s a mess, Molly.”
“Messes can be cleaned up.” When I didn’t respond, she said, “Do you doubt that?”
I drank my second shot.
“It seems to me Artemis’s naming ceremony isn’t a great place for you and Serena to come together for the first time since the divorce.” She gazed into the distance and again, tapped her finger on the table. “You’re likely to be emotional, plus, it could take the focus off the reason everyone is coming.”
“I thought so too, but Taggart seemed pretty insistent.”
“Maybe you could contact Serena and talk to her before the fact? You can begin to say what you have to say. Test the waters, so to speak, and let Serena do the same. That way you can still support Ariel, Tag, and Artemis on her naming day.”
The idea went down my spine like electricity. Molly was exactly right.
I needed to talk to Serena before the ceremony.
I needed to humble myself enough to listen to her this time. Because there were decisions I couldn’t—wouldn’t dare—make unilaterally, including whether it would benefit our children for me to be in their lives or harm them further. Being totally honest now meant we had to meet in uncharted territory, where my understanding of myself included the news that I identified as demisexual and also that I was probably bisexual.
Tag had tried to tell me. For all that I knew how to swaddle a baby, he had a better handle on communication than I ever would. They'd made it inevitable. I had to start the healing process. The hardest part getting started.
It was Wednesday night. Late, for Serena. But if I knew she was going to be there Saturday, then she knew I would be as well. There might be a better time to ask for a meeting, but there would never be an easier one.
Without another word to Molly, I got out my phone and drifted back to my office. Morrigan followed.
Good. I might need her for this.
“Hello?” Serena answered on the first ring.
“It’s me.” I cleared my clogged throat. “It’s Stone.”
“I assumed, from the name Stone with your number underneath it. What do you want?” she asked without inflection. “It’s late.”
“It’s about Saturday.”
A long sigh came from her side of the phone, and then she was talking to someone in the background. “Yes, it’s him. It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A door closed.
“Stone?” She came back to me a couple seconds later. “I can’t talk long.”
“Since we’re going to both be at Artemis’s naming ceremony on Saturday, I thought…That is I would appreciate it if you would come early so we can talk—”
“Why?”
Why? Because I was a jackass, and I wanted to do better. That’s why. I’d scribbled better words on the back of a junk-mail envelope, and I was ready for this.
Here goes nothing.
“I would appreciate the opportunity to come clean about my mistakes and the chance to do better. I owe you and the kids an apology, Serena.”
There was a long pause before she answered. “How early would you want us to come?”
“An hour, maybe?” Since I had expected an argument, my mind went blank.
“You believe we can come to terms with the past in an hour?”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“I’ll have Sadie and the boys with me.”
“I'll see if Tag can watch them while we talk.” Sadie and the boys. Our kids. I hadn’t seen them in four years. I hadn’t even looked at pictures online because I’d never moved beyond the memory of my family before I broke it.
“Our children are old enough to hear what you have to say, Stone.”
No pressure there or anything. “What about Jason?”
“He'll be out of town this weekend.”
“But you’ll make it early so we can talk?”
“Yes. Fine.” She gave nothing away. Was this a huge mistake? “Saturdays are our busiest day, but I’ll be there as early as I can.”
“Thank you, Serena. I appreciate this.”
“See you then.” She disconnected the call.
Emotionally draining as it was, the call had been relatively benign. I’d expected her to be angrier. To rail at me for my many failures. I’d expected her to exact some revenge for having to even talk to me, and instead, she’d agreed to meet without any resistance at all.
I felt like throwing up, so I went to the kitchen for water. Molly still sat there, reading.
“Everything go okay?” She asked, without lifting her eyes from the book.
“Better than I deserved.”
“Good grief,” she muttered. “You and Sebastian are so obviously made for each other.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means neither of you understand that it’s okay to screw up, fix things, and move forward. You believe you should be thrown away like a defective hotel pen instead.”
“That’s oddly specific.” I drank half a glass of water in one go.
“Take the guy in this book. He’s stuck between a madman and a deadly storm, but does he sit around wondering whether he deserves to save the planet?”
“Probably not.”
“Right. Because he’s not overthinking things. The end. Now get some sleep.”
“Alrighty then.” She was right. Kurt Austen saved the day, however he felt. “Good night, Molly.”
“Dear God, what will I do when the kids grow up?” she muttered.
Morrigan and I left Molly and Kurt Austen to figure it out.
Chapter Twenty
Bast
“Sebastian?” Stone whispered close to my ear.
“Hm?”
“Want to take a walk with me this morning?” Looming over my bed, Stone cupped my jaw and rubbed his thumb over my lips. “Or do you want to sleep in.”
“I’ll go.” I swung my legs over the side and let Stone help me up. “Is it cold out right now?”
“As if I’d let someone from LA define cold. Let me help you dress. C’mon.”
Stone had clothes laid out for me when I returned from the bathroom. I could wear oversize T-shirts but anything with long sleeves was impossible to get over the fat bandages on my left arm, plus I needed the sling. Stone helped with those and then held my jeans while I stepped into them. He did up the zip and fastened the button. Since I’d been wearing sweats and tanks for days, the chance to wear real clothes was practically a dream come true.
“I’m never taking long sleeves for granted again,” I said as he slipped my belt through all the loops and buckled it.
Each item of clothing provided an excuse for him to brush his fingers over my skin. Caress my neck and shoulders. Slide his hands over my hips.
“Gimme your foot.”
He kneeled and ran his fingers up my calf. He slipped socks onto my feet and helped me work my boots on and laced them for me. For warmth he gave me one of his hoodies. My right arm went through the sleeve fine and, because it was Stone’s, it was big enough to zip over the sling.