Page 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

brEAKING ROUTINE

EMMA

L ate Friday night (or early Saturday morning according to the clock), I disentangle myself from Jax’s arms and drive home, where I immediately collapse in bed, still wrapped up in his warm and spicy scent that was so calming earlier tonight. I fall asleep with the phantom feeling of his arms wrapped around me, and the whisper of his kiss on my lips. I dream of a night like tonight, one where I don’t leave and sleep in my own bed. One where I wake up in the morning and make breakfast and watch soccer with the girls.

When I actually wake up in the morning, after just a few hours of sleep, I need to clear my head, but the soccer field isn’t calling my name today. No. Today my heart is called further east.

Home.

After a quick bite to eat, I climb in my car and drive out of town, chasing the sunrise as I make my way east toward Boston. Toward my family. Turning on my usual Saturday morning, pre-soccer playlist, I lower the windows just enough to let in a blast of late autumn air, and I drive. As I drive, the sun lightens the sky, casting a golden glow over the nearly empty stretch of highway in front of me, but my mood doesn't reflect that glow as my music is interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone.

Scott’s name fills the small display in the car and I reluctantly answer.

“Scott, isn’t it awfully early for you?”

“Good morning to you, too. As a matter of fact, I’m on your coast for the weekend, Superstar.”

I stifle a groan, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much that nickname bothers me.

“What do you need Scott?” I pray he doesn’t want to meet face to face, that’s the last thing I need right now. I’m still riding the high of last night’s date with Jax, and I’m not going to let Scott ruin that feeling.

“Wanted to check in with you about the contract offer, see if you’ve made up your mind yet.” And there it is.

“After the match, Scott. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

“Alright,” Scott huffs out a resigned sigh. “I’ll stop bugging you about it then.”

“Thank you.” I don’t believe him. But I don’t tell him that. “I’ll talk to you later Scott.”

Without a word, he disconnects the call and my music picks up right where it left off when I was so rudely interrupted. Rolling the windows down a little more, I drop my sunglasses over my eyes and lift my voice with the music, trying to reclaim some of the magic that Scott’s call stole from me. If I do go back, it may be time to finally cut ties with Scott. Find a new agent. Again.

Scott helped me through the media debacle a few years ago, in ways my last agent didn’t, but over the years he’s gotten pushier, harder to work with, but I’m less afraid to fight for what I want now. More inclined to stand up for myself when I need to. If I accept the contract offer, it’ll come with a new agent, that I know for sure. I shake my head, clearing away the thoughts as I turn the music up a little louder before exiting the highway and finding myself a place for coffee and a baked good.

With fuel in the form of copious amounts of caffeine and buttery, jelly filled pastry, I make my way out of the state of New York and into Massachusetts, and now it’s a straight shot home. Growing up just outside of Boston was a wild experience; we lived in the suburbs, but were never far from the hustle of the city. I spent so many Saturday mornings wandering around the city with my dad and my sister, reading every plaque and historical marker, and as a high school student on summer breaks, I was one of the youngest tour guides on the Freedom Trail thanks to my extensive knowledge of the landmarks and the city.

As the city rises in the distance, I pull off the highway and drive into the cozy, tree lined neighborhood from my childhood, and right up into the driveway of the house we moved into after Elizabeth left us. Dad didn’t want to stay where we were, in a house filled with painful memories, so we moved out of the city and into the suburbs, to the only home that I have any clear memories of.

I sit in the driveway of the old brick ranch style house, taking in the fall flowers that line the steps to the front porch, and the chipping paint on the shutters. A curtain flutters in the front window and soon the front door is thrown open, revealing my dad in faded jeans and a sweatshirt that has seen better days but he can’t be convinced to get rid of it. The heather gray sweatshirt is threadbare, the logo fading, and the collar is frayed but, Dad insists that he keeps it for Molly and me. We gave it to him on the first Father’s Day we celebrated with just the three of us. I’m glad he still has it.

Dad runs down the steps, paying no mind to his bare feet or the chill in the air, and opens my door, offering me a hand out of the car and once I rise to my full height, I wrap my arms around him and burrow against his chest. It’s been too long since I’ve had a Dad hug, and I’ve missed him.

“Emma!” Dad holds me close, one hand cradling my head the way he’s always done. “What are you doing here?”

“Daniel? Is everything okay?” Mom stands at the top of the porch, holding the door open with her shoulder, clutching her sweater tight around her shoulders. “Is that Emma?”

“Hi mom,” Dad’s shoulder muffles my response, but I do lift a hand in greeting. “How’s it going?”

Oof.

Dad and I lurch forward as Mom rushes down and joins the hug.

Yeah. I’m glad I came home.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Mom laughs, “let's go inside. We just made a pot of coffee.”

Dad releases me, and Mom takes his place, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and leading me into the house.

“What brings you by?” Mom asks, leading me into the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” I just wanted to see my mom. Talk to my dad face to face. I’ve been longing for the comforts of home, so I got in the car and drove. After last night, with Jax and the girls, there’s a storm of emotions swirling in my brain as I think about my place in their lives. If I even have a place in their lives. “I just missed you, is all.”

A look passes between Mom and Dad, and my sweet dad presses a kiss to the top of Mom’s head before putting his coffee mug in the fridge for later and grabbing a stack of canvas bags from the pantry.

“Come on Kid. We’re going to the Farmer’s Market.”

Unlike my father, I pour my coffee into a travel mug and bring it along. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

We drive to the market with nothing but the sound of soccer pundits on the radio. As we approach the city, Dad lowers the volume on the radio, and casts me a quick glance before returning his attention to the road…and then we hit Saturday morning Boston traffic, leaving us nothing but time to talk.

“Three hours is a long way to drive for your mom’s mediocre coffee, Kid. What’s really going on?”

What’s really going on is that I’m falling in love with an incredibly kind, very attractive, single dad of two girls, and I don’t know how to make sense of our relationship. I don’t know where I fit, but I know that I want to fit.

That’s what I should tell my dad.

What do I actually tell him?

Nothing. And everything.

“What was it like for you, dating Mom? Bringing her into our lives?”

Dad is quiet for a while as he navigates us down the small side street, inching closer and closer to the market.

“Honestly, Em? It was pretty easy. Maureen just sort of dropped into my life, and she was great with you girls, connected with you right away. I don’t know what to tell you Emma, other than it just felt right. Like she was the piece of us that was missing.”

Last night, being in the room with the girls, reading to them, being a part of something so personal, it felt…right…just like Dad said. It felt like fitting into the puzzle of Jax’s family; that they would even welcome me into that space is so meaningful. Last night reminded me of nights at home with Dad and Maureen, before Maureen was Mom. She’d help me with my homework, read to us at night, and was always there to tuck us in at night.

Maureen – Mom – never made me feel bad about myself, never made me feel like I didn’t fit or that there was anything wrong with me. She showed me, in so many ways, that I was deserving of the love of a mother. Molly, too. And while I may have only been a child, I saw the way she loved my dad, the way she continues to love my dad. And my sister.

“I’ve been…sort of dating someone. He’s got two daughters. And I’m afraid that I’m not…Dad, what if I mess everything up?”

“You won’t.” We’ve parked at the market, finally, and Dad turns to face me in his seat, eyes meeting mine with an intensity I haven’t seen in a long, long time.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’ve been on the other side, Emma. And you know that pain. If you love them, the way I suspect you do, you will do everything in your power to avoid causing them pain. But let me tell you this, because it’s a mistake I made, don’t avoid attachment because you are afraid of getting hurt again.”

That was the hardest part of letting Mom into our lives, for me at least. I was always afraid that I’d do or say the wrong thing to her and she’d leave. She spent a lot of time reassuring me that she was here to stay, and perhaps even more important, she showed me with her actions that she wasn’t going anywhere. It took a long time for me to feel like I was worthy or deserving of her love, and I’m so thankful that she was patient and persistent with me.

“How old are they?” Dad asks as we get out of the car, grabbing up his market bags.

“Eight and ten.”

“So right about the same age you and Molly were when Maureen and I started dating.”

“Yeah. That’s not lost on me,” I throw dad a wry smile.

“Have you talked to him about any of this?”

“I’m planning to…”

“You need to.” Dad gives me a very pointed look. “But, for now, let’s go to the market.”

We start with a coffee stand – local roasters who sell their coffee on site, and also have a limited selection of brewed coffee for purchase – Dad refuses to buy from the coffee chains on every corner in the city. With coffees in hand, and several bags of beans to take home to Mom, we move slowly and methodically through the market as Dad crosses items off his list of seasonal fruits and vegetables.

“Want to make chili and grilled cheese when we get home?” Dad asks as we approach the butcher shop and cheesemonger near the end of the market. “Divide and conquer?”

“Divide and conquer.” I give Dad a quick nod and a two finger salute that elicits a laugh and a dismissive wave of his hand as I wander toward the cheese counter. I get an aged english cheddar, a smoked gouda that I’ve been getting from this seller since I was thirteen years old, and a ghost pepper pepper jack on impulse. Once I’ve procured the cheese, I grab a loaf of homemade, crusty white bread from my favorite bakery stall and meet up with Dad.

“Got the goods?” Dad asks as if I’ve just purchased contraband.

“Sure did,” I open my bag so he can peek inside at the bread and cheese. “What about you?”

Dad opens his bag and grins before looping our arms together and leading the way back to the car for the drive home where we begin the process of making a giant pot of chili. The chili needs to simmer on the stove all day long, and Dad takes a nap to the sounds of college football while Mom and I find our way out to the garden where I roll up my sleeves and help pull weeds.

“So what’s his name?” Mom asks while I’m digging out a particularly stubborn weed.

“Jax,” I grunt, trying to loosen the weeds with the small spade, stripping off my gloves as if that’s going to help.

“And what does he do?”

“He’s a doctor,” I finally free the weed and fall onto my backside as it comes free from the ground. “Obstetrician.”

Mom hums a response, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“What’s that hmmm ?” I ask, wiping my forehead with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“I’m just happy for you, Emma. That’s all. Tell me about his kids.”

“Mackenzie is ten and Alice is eight,” I get back to pulling weeds, finding it easier to talk about this while doing something with my hands. “Alice is a voracious reader, in fact she’s the reason I started my library lunch groups. And Mackenzie plays soccer, and she’s fantastic; she was on the team I coached through the end of the season.”

“Is that all?”

“No.” I rock back on my heels and gather up my small pile of weeds to toss in the bin nearby, giving myself a moment to think. “No, that’s not all. They are kind and smart and funny. They make me laugh everytime we’re together, and they love their dad so, so much. And he’s a joy to be around. He never makes me feel bad about myself or my ADHD. He’s patient and kind and understanding.”

“Interesting,” Mom stands and holds out a hand to help me up from the ground. “I didn’t ask you about Jax.”

I groan and wrap an arm around Mom’s waist as she drapes an arm over my shoulder and plants a kiss on my temple. She’s right, she didn’t ask me about Jax, but that’s right where my mind went. It’s still so early in our relationship though, if it can even be called that. I don’t know what we are, but I do know we need to talk about it. One more thing to add to that list.

“I’m happy for you, Emma,” Mom stops on the porch and kicks off her muddy gardening shoes. “Even happier for them that they get to know you the way I do.”