Pieces of Him (24 page)

“All right, well, there’s not a working shower here but the half bath downstairs works. I’ll take you there. You can get cleaned up while I heat up dinner.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

“You’re still hungry, right?”

“Starving.”

“Good.” I help her up and lead her into the bathroom, leaving her alone to get herself together. While I heat up dinner, I think about what just occurred out on that balcony and about how this girl never ceases to amaze me. But just like all good things, part of me is terrified of it coming to an end.

Emelia~

“Are you going home for Dad’s birthday or what, Em?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to. Not only will Mom not accept you not being there, but you also cannot leave me to fend for myself. They don’t know I’m coming, and to top it all off, I’m bringing Colin with me and introducing him as my fiancé. I need you.”

“I know, Hannah, it’s just that I haven’t told them about Max and Xander yet, and I don’t want to go home and not bring them with me.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Because Mom is still trying to push Garrett off on me and she’ll flip if I tell her I’m dating a man who’s eight years older than me and has a baby. I’m not thinking it will go over well.”

“You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep living your life according to what Mom wants. You need to stop giving a shit. She lived her life, Em. She’s made everybody miserable for years, and now, it’s time for you to live yours and be happy.”

“I know.”

“You love Max and Xander, and they love you. That’s a beautiful thing. You should not be hiding it.”

“You’re right. I’m going to tell them about Max and Xander, and I’m going to invite him to Dad’s birthday dinner.”

“Good.”

“But I have another problem.”

“What?”

“I haven’t told Max that we’re well off?”

“You haven’t told him that you’re rich?”

“I hate that word.”

“Why? It is what it is—you’re rich. You have money, end of story. What do you think is going to happen when you tell him?”

“I don’t know. Max is a survivor. He came from nothing and built a life for himself, and I just don’t want him to think I’m a spoiled brat.”

“He knows you. He knows you’re not a spoiled brat, but you’ve been with him for almost seven months, Em. He’s going to be pissed that you lied to him.”

“I didn’t lie. He just never asked.”

“You lied. You absolutely lied. Why would he ever ask if you’re rich? You’re living in an apartment in New Jersey working as a social worker. What in all that’s you would give him the clue that you have money?”

“I know, and now, so much time has passed that I don’t know how to tell him.”

“Just tell him. He’ll understand.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Can’t wait to see you and Colin.”

“Can’t wait to meet your boys.”

I disconnect the call and quickly change into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I throw a light sweater on, grab my keys, and walk over to Max’s to relieve Mrs. Park. My favorite days of the week are the days I get to go over there and spend time with Xander first. It’s our special bonding time, and I love everything about it. Using the key Max gave me, I let myself into his apartment. Mrs. Park is cleaning up the kitchen, and Max squeals at the sight of me.

“Hi, handsome,” I call as I walk over to him and lift him up. He squeezes my face with his chubby little hands and puts his open mouth on my cheek. Best. Kiss. Ever. “How’s my boy? Did you miss me?”

“He always misses his momma.”

My body freezes at Mrs. Park's words, and all I can do is stare at her. Hearing her refer to me as Xander’s mother does something to me. Maybe because deep down it’s what I want to be, but I can’t say it, can’t ask for the title, because I’m not his real mom. Max and I are together, but it’s never come up.

“Mrs. Park.”

“A mother is the one who takes care of you, the person who loves you, nurtures you, and sometimes that person isn’t the person who gave birth to you. Xander’s real mother passed away and that was tragic, it was so sad, honey. But he has a mother. He has an amazing woman with so much love to give to take care of him.”

“You think …”

“I see how you look at him. I see it written all over your face. He already knows who you are to him, look at him.”

Looking down, I see Xander's hand clutching my shirt, his head resting on my chest holding onto me like—well, like a mom.

“I’m scared that Max won’t like it.” I confess something I’ve been feeling for months.

“Max wants it too. Maybe if you two would stop being scared and just talk about it, you might be pleasantly surprised at the outcome.”

Jeez, what is it with all these lessons I’m getting from people today? First, Hannah, and now, Mrs. Park. They’re both right, though; I so obviously need to discuss these things with Max. Things that I’ve been holding onto because I’m afraid of how he’ll react.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Good. Well, I have to go. Have a good night, dear.”

“You too.”

When she’s gone, I head to the couch with Xander and snuggle up with him. He does the same with me, nestling into me and watching as I run my finger along the palm of his hand. He holds his pacifier to his mouth with one hand and keeps his head on my chest. It doesn’t take long for him to drift off. I shouldn’t let him take a nap at this time because he’ll probably be up all night, but I don’t care. I’ll stay up with him if I have to, but I just want to enjoy this time for what it is. I do this all the time, sit with him and cuddle or get down on the ground and play with him, and while I do, I find myself thinking that I should cherish the moment, never forget how small he once was. Then I chastise myself because I don’t have the right to pretend that memories with him are mine to keep.

By the time I’m done making dinner, my nerves are shot. After my conversations with Hannah and Mrs. Park today, I decided that I couldn’t keep holding things back where Max was concerned. I love him. I’m so crazy in love with him, and if I have any chance at all of keeping him, I need to be honest with him. As he does every night, he locks eyes with me, giving me a silent hello and walks straight to Xander when he gets home. They have their moment together, and I use the time to make him a plate of food—chicken scampi over a bed of pasta. I set his plate down along with a drink and head into the living room.

He kisses me sweetly and the pull is there, as it always is, as I hope it always will be.

“Go eat. I got him.” He hands Xander off to me and heads to the table while I put him in his walker. I make sure he can’t reach or bump into anything dangerous and then I let him go. He roams the apartment stopping to play with the toys attached to the walker every so often. I keep him in my line of sight as I take a seat at the table with Max.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“It was busy, but busy is good for business.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to need you to stop by the development sometime next week. There are a few lots I want you to look at where we can potentially build, and I want you to see them.”

“That’s so exciting. I can’t wait,” I tell him hoping he’ll still want to live with me after finding out I’ve been less than honest about my life.

“Are you okay? You seem kind of quiet.” Of course, I do because I’m usually talking a mile a minute when he gets home, telling him about every second of my day.

“I have to talk to you about something.”

His eyes flash with what looks to me like worry as he puts his fork down.

“What’s up?”

“I was talking to Hannah today and …” I’m interrupted by Xander, who parks his walker in front of us, looks back and forth between us, and instantly begins to cry.

“Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?” Max asks pulling him out of the walker. “Ohh, you need your diaper changed, huh?”

“Finish your dinner, baby. I’ll change him,” I say quickly coming to my feet and pulling Xander out of his arms.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally, we’ll talk when I’m done.”

“Okay.”

All right, I’m chicken shit, I know, but I want to kiss Xander for his timing right now. My heart is pounding double time, and my nerves are shot. Why is this so hard for me? I should have told him about my family’s money a long time ago. It probably won’t even faze him because Max is so not about money. It takes me twice as long as normal to change Xander’s diaper because I’m taking my sweet time. I’m trying to drag out my stay of execution for as long as humanly possible. Around the time that my disappearance starts to look ridiculous, I decide to head back out and face the music.

I hear Max talking as I enter the room and figure he must be on the phone.

“Right. Yes, sir, I’ll tell her,” he says before disconnecting the phone … My. Phone. Shit, shit, shit. He turns when he hears Xander’s baby talk. I set him down and take a few steps closer to Max.

He reaches out to me, his face unreadable, my phone in his hand, and I stare at it like it’s a smoking gun.

“Your phone rang. I saw a Connecticut number and thought it might be that asshole ex of yours.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t heard from Garrett since that night. I would have told you,” I say taking the phone from him and looking at the call log, “My dad’s office line.”

“You don’t have your dad’s number programmed into your phone?”

“He called me from his office, and I never call there. I have his cell and the house numbers programmed.” He nods but says nothing more. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but I have to get through this. “What did he say?”

“He wanted to know if you were going to his birthday dinner next weekend.”

“Oh.”

“He didn’t know anything about me, Em.” There it is—an undeniable hurt in his voice—and it kills me because that’s the last thing I ever wanted. I just don’t know how to fix it without making it worse.

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“So talk, I’m listening,” he says dismissively

I let out a sigh because this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. “Can we sit?”

Though he looks frustrated with me, he indulges my request and takes a seat on the couch. I sit next to him, turning my body to face him.

“I told you a little bit about my family before. I’m closer to my dad than I am to my mom.”

“Yeah, your mom who wants to control you and see you married to Garrett.”

“Yes. But it’s more than that, she is,” I scour my brain trying to think of a way to describe her, how she is, what she’s like, and how she pulls strings like a puppet master. There’s no easy way to say any of that, so I just tell him the most obvious truth.

“She’d never accept you, not for me, no way in hell.” I want to take the words back immediately, realizing too late how bluntly I spoke them. How insensitive they sounded.

“What?” As I anticipated, he looks both angry and hurt.

“Okay. God, this sounds so bad. My family is rich, Max. They have a lot of money, and where my father is awesome and loving and non-judgmental, my mother is the complete opposite. The only acceptable kind of man for one of her daughters is one who comes with a big fat bank account.”