It’s not until his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, deep sleep finally pulling him under again, that I pull myself from the bed. Sleep well, mijo. I offer up a silent prayer and leave the room with my heart battered.
Cora’s in the kitchen drying a dish when I come around the corner. Fucking hell. She washed all the dishes. She didn’t have to do that. Anger surges in my chest. At my situation. At myself. How I can’t have anything normal. I don’t know why I expected tonight would go otherwise. I despise how everyone I surround myself with feels the need to take care of me, when it should be the other way around.
Her gaze lifts to mine as I approach. “He’s back to sleep now?”
“Yeah.” My stomach claws with unease. “I’m sorry.” But I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.
“Lots of kids have night terrors.” I know she says it to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I don’t need her excuses. She doesn’t have to placate the situation.
“I know.” My spine straightens.
“Has he ever been tested?”
“Tested?” Defensiveness tightens with my jaw. David’s been through a lot. His mother arrested before his first birthday, foster care while I worked to earn custody. I’m his own father and I don’t even know what he’s endured, but Cora doesn’t know that. She only just met him. He’s not a problem to be treated. He’s my son. “He doesn’t have a disease, Cora.”
“Oh!” Cora’s eyes widen and she lifts her hands. “I didn’t mean . . . Isaac, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. Okay? I don’t need your pity, or your concern. He’s safe with me. Happy and healthy.”
“Isaac, forgive me. I overstepped. It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
My pride wrestles with my insecurities. “It’s getting late. I have to be up early.”
“Right. Of course. Me, too.” She folds the dish towel, laying it on the counter. Walking to the door, she scoops up her bag and pulls out her keys. “Thank you for dinner.” There’s hurt in her rushed movements. Pain I put there.
Fuck, I’m screwing everything up. “Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No.” She shakes her head, not quite meeting my gaze, and holds up a device. Is that a—? “I never leave home without my Taser, and I’m just out front. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to leave David.” She doesn’t even sound jealous or annoyed, as if she wouldn’t dream of asking me to leave my son.
More guilt mixes with my pride, so twisted I don’t know where my thoughts lie anymore. I wanted to be mad. At her. At this entire situation, but instead I’m left feeling rather inept.
“Night, Isaac.” She moves to the door, unlocking it and sending me one last glance over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” It’s the only thing I push past my lips before she’s out the door and jogging to her Hummer. As if she can’t get away fast enough, and it’s entirely my fault.
Twenty
Cora
Why, oh why do I open my mouth? Last night was going perfectly, until I overstepped. I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question only hours after meeting his son. Shouldn’t have drawn the implication or discussed David’s development so casually. Just because I’m comfortable discussing those topics doesn’t mean I should. Instead I offended a man who is obviously working his ass off to provide for his son.
Isaac’s disappointment, along with his anger, plays in my mind on repeat. With that one comment I screwed up any chance of a relationship. Or us repeating any kitchen trysts or couch make-out sessions. Fuck me. Why do I always have to say something? Pressing a few buttons on my dash, I call the one person who will understand. My mom.
“Cora! How’s my second favorite daughter?”
“Ha ha.” Even though I’m not in a cheerful mood, her teasing brings a smile to my lips. “That’s only because I don’t visit.”
“And rarely call before eight in the morning.” She chuckles before her tone turns serious. “How are you? Is everything okay?”
“Why did dad leave?”
“Wow.” There’s a long pause and I picture her shaking her head. “We’re having that conversation? I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“Sorry.” I bite down on my lip. What is wrong with me? I know this isn’t an easy topic for her. But after last night I can’t help but wonder. There are years I can’t remember. “You don’t have to answer. That was insensitive of me to bring up without warning.”
“Next time ease in a little.” I hear her shuffle around and I wonder if she’s at home. “Use lube.”
“Mom!” A laugh bursts from my gut.
“See. I’m not the only one who can catch a girl off guard. Now, why are you wondering about your father? He’s normally someone you don’t like to discuss.”
“There’s this guy.”
“Ah,” she says as if she understands, though I don’t get how. I haven’t told her anything about Isaac.
“He’s raising his child on his own. Mom is out of the picture. But last night I met David—his son—and he’s non-verbal.”
“Ah,” she says again. “Well, it’s a complicated situation. There isn’t one reason. Lots of little things over the years that just kind of built up.”
Emotion thickens my throat. “Right.”
“Your dad left because he couldn’t handle what was happening at home. Our relationship had always been imbalanced. I gave too much, I suppose. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t be the woman I was when he met me, but being a mom changed me. Not a bad change, but I was different after Maddie and then you.”
She doesn’t need to explain further. It’s what I always suspected. Still, hearing it aloud hurts. My own father abandoned his wife when she needed him most. He left because of us. “But you still loved him.” It’s the part of her story I’ve never understood.
“I’ll always love your dad. Loved him when he passed on, and I know you never wanted a relationship with him, but he changed toward the end.”
My father reappeared in our lives after his cancer diagnosis, but it was too little too late for me. It annoyed me that my mom accepted him back into her life. That she wanted to take care of him after years of him neglecting his own children. It’s something I resented her for too, if I’m being honest. But I wasn’t around. I’d already been in Los Angeles a year when he returned.
“I know your career is important to you, but it’s also okay to want more.”
“I know that,” I say a little defensively. I don’t want what she had. I refuse to lose myself in someone only to be disappointed by them later.
“You really care about this man?”
“I think so.” I sigh. “But you know how I am. I say what’s on my mind. I don’t think. I’m not sure I’m cut out for relationships.” I enjoy sex. I’m a sucker for romance. But when it comes to my personal life, I don’t know how anyone fits on more than a temporary basis.