Leslie keeps her lips zipped, brows furrowing in a petulant scowl that boils my blood just a tad.
“It’s not like you even invited him to come along…” I mumble, knowing full well it’s a stupid argument.
Jesse wouldn’t have wanted to come along.
“Therein lies yet another problem, James,” she sighs. “We’ve been together for two years and I barely know your… son. He obviously doesn’t like me. We never spend any time together… I mean, you don’t even let me stay over your house. It’s like you’re purposely keeping me away from him.”
“That’s not true…”
“It is.” She grips the table in frustration, leaning in to whisper-shout at me. “I wanted you to finally meet my parents. I was hoping this would give us a push in the right direction. But as expected, you want no part of it. You’re not interested in taking our relationship to the next level, and you’re sure as shit not interested in welcoming me into your two-person family.” She sits back, gathering her purse. “So we’re done.”
“Les, just hear me out,” I stammer, my thoughts clouding up with what I think I should say. Anything I could do to fix this… Within reason, of course.
“No more excuses, James.” She stands. “We’re finished. Merry Christmas.”
And then she leaves.
She walks right the fuck out of the cafe, leaving me sitting alone at a table, staring at the lipstick on her coffee cup.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Things with Leslie have never really felt permanent, which clearly doesn’t work for a woman in her thirties who just wasted two years on a man she probably should have sensed was unlikely to commit.
Leslie was the first person I’ve been serious with since high school. I suppose I’m what you would call a chronic bachelor. I’ve dated girls, but my default setting is to keep it casual.
Thinking about settling down has always caused some significant discomfort in my gut.
Relationships just aren’t at the forefront of my mind. My focus remains on building my business and providing a stable home environment for my kid.
Honestly, Leslie’s not wrong in her grievances. I have a tendency to keep Jesse in a bubble. Maybe it’s because I’m so afraid of him getting hurt, or attached. But then those things don’t really seem to satisfy my inner turmoil.
The fact is that eighteen years ago, I made a promise to my best friends in the entire world. At the time, I never imagined I’d have to fulfill that promise. But here we are.
And if a relationship has the potential to in any way compromise my ability to protect Jesse, then I’d rather just avoid the notion altogether.
Twenty minutes of aggrieved simmering later, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and leave the damn cafe. But not without first buying Jesse one of the cake pops he likes. I decide to go back to work for a couple of hours and wrap some things up, since I’ll be out of the office for a few days. Christmas, and all.
In my SUV, the radio is on, but I’m too deep in my thoughts to recognize the holiday tunes mumbling in the background. The streets are covered in white after the fresh coat we got last night. According to the weather forecast, Maine will be having a very white Christmas this year. It’s supposed to keep snowing tonight, and all throughout the holiday.
My vehicle is good in the snow—pretty much a requirement when you live in the Northeast—but the occasional slips of even my all-wheel drive bring back memories…
Of the night my life changed forever.
Pushing it away, I pull up to my building, parking right by the front door. I trudge through the snow in my black boots, slinking inside and closing the door behind me, reveling in the warmth, a stark contrast to the twenty-degree temperatures outside.
Wandering through the reception area, I push open the double-doors, immediately hit with a new wave of heat, and the pungent scent of the grow. We’re in between harvests at the moment, which gives us some downtime for the holiday. But it’s always balmy as hell in here because… ya know. The plants need warmth. At all times.
I own a licensed marijuana grow facility, right here in my hometown of Winthrop. The business took off a few years ago, shortly after it was legalized, and it’s been providing me with a steady stream of income ever since. It’s still a pretty small setup, but only because I like it that way. I keep my operations to a tight-knit group of employees I trust, and really, I have no desire to expand, though I’m sure I could.
The guys who work for me, I’ve known since high school. I grew up in this town, for the most part. And now I own a business here, I live here, and I guess that makes me a townie, though I kind of resent that sort of label because I’m not the guy who walks into a bar like Cheers, where everyone knows my name. Maybe they do, but I’d prefer not to be greeted that way.
I keep to myself.
Puttering around the facility, I check on orders, talk with the guys who are still here, and make sure we’re all set to be closed for days. It’s entirely unnecessary for me to even be here right now, but I guess I’m trying to distract myself.
For as much as I always sort of knew things with Leslie wouldn’t stick, getting dumped still sucks. It’s a shot to the ego for sure, and yet another reminder that I’m sailing through my thirties with no hope of doing the normal thing and starting a family.
But the more interesting part is how secretly relieved I am by that fact.
My life isn’t normal. It hasn’t been since I was nineteen and I inherited a two-year-old.
Checking my watch, I find that it’s after five in the evening. Everyone’s itching to go home, which is what I should be doing, too; heading back to our quiet little house to spend yet another Christmas with the only person I have to worry about in this world.
Back in the car and driving slowly over the icy roads, I think about my parents. I don’t think about them often, but the holidays usually bring about these kinds of musings.
An only child to two dope fiends, I emancipated myself legally at seventeen. After that, my friends became my family, and the two best ones I had were Trent and Himla. We grew up together, basically inseparable, in similar familial situations. Which is why when Himla became pregnant, it was never a question as to who would be the baby’s godfather.
Unfortunately, I never anticipated it being a job I’d have to take on only two years later.
I still remember the night I got the call…
Fear crawls up my spine as the sounds of my own cries fill my memories. The shaking in my hands as I held a frightened two-year-old Jesse, whispering to him that everything would be okay, though I was severely unsure of those promises myself.
It’s something you can never prepare for… A loss and an unexpected gift all in one tragic night.
That’s what Leslie doesn’t understand. It could never be a choice.
When it comes to Jesse, nothing else matters.
Chapter 2
Jesse
* * *
I’m placing a red bow on the gift box when I hear the front door slam.
Scrambling, I stuff it underneath the Christmas tree just in time as James shuffles around the corner. I use my body to block the wrapping paper on the floor, not that it really matters. People wrap gifts before Christmas. It’s nothing shocking.