TESSA

Charlie would love it here.

As I sit at a tiny table at the back of the coffee shop and look out at the mountains, I know my nature-loving, superhero-adventure-having son would have the time of his life in Tahoe. Maybe Bryce and I can bring him over the holiday break.

I bite my lip and shake my head, just thinking about it.

How did I, Tessa Clarke, the girl who declared years ago that she didn’t need a man, end up in love?

Wait. I’m not in love. Am I?

Just thinking it seems so surreal. If Bryce wasn’t so damn persistent, I never would have given him a second chance. Thank God he didn’t give up.

Bryce might not have said he loves me, but he said he’s mine. And I’m his. And, now, I feel like a thirteen-year-old who got her first boyfriend. I won’t lie; if I had a pen, I’d totally be doodling our names on this napkin under my cup.

There’s an older couple at a nearby table. They’re holding hands and talking softly. For the first time, I can actually picture myself with someone. Bryce will have white hair like his father, and I’ll definitely be dyeing mine until the day I hit the grave. We’ll sit on our Adirondack chairs and talk about the kids and the grandchildren, maybe play pinochle or Rummikub. Actually, we’ll probably be on our iPads or whatever fancier device is out in the future.

Speaking of devices, I take my phone out of my purse and call Eleanor Mason. Bryce said to give them the day to bond without my hovering, and I did so. But, now, it’s time for this mama bear to hear from her baby cub because I’m starting to go through withdrawals.

The phone rings a few times before Eleanor picks up. We exchange our pleasantries as she gives me a rundown of all the things Charlie has been up to. He ate pancakes for breakfast. Rob spent a fortune on new toys for him. He tired them out at the park, fell, and cut his knee, but it’s just a scrape. He brushed and flossed his teeth last night.

Oh, and then she utters these words, “Now, try not to be upset at this next thing.”

I take a deep breath and brace myself.

“Ashton called, and the two of them had an amazing conversation,” she says like it’s no big deal.

My mouth is open, but there’s no air going in or out. “They what?”

“He happened to call while we were settling in at the hotel last night, and Charlie asked if he could talk to his father. Naturally, I put him on the phone.” I can just picture her playing with the pearls around her neck as she speaks.

I lay my hand on my forehead as I try to figure out what on earth this woman does not understand when I say I don’t want Charlie talking to his father.

“Put Charlie on the phone.”

“Tessa, I know you’re not pleased, but it was so beautiful to see Charlie when he spoke to his father.”

“His sperm donor.”

“That’s crude.”

“Naturally,” I spit back her word. “I want Charlie home now.”

“You can’t do that! You said we could have him until Sunday,” she cries.

I take an exasperated breath. “Eleanor, I don’t want to fight with you. Really. You are a lovely woman with good intentions, I’m sure. But you’ve proven time and time again that you are not responsible with Charlie’s feelings.”

“Tessa, please!”

“Put Charlie on the phone. Now,” I bite.

There’s a shuffling accompanied by Eleanor’s whimpers. I don’t want to be the villain in this situation, but she makes me one every single time. If it were up to her, she’d fly Charlie to the other side of the world and have him sing “Kumbaya My Lord” with his father.

Charlie gets on the call before I have a chance to imagine any other ridiculous scenarios. “Mommy, guess what. Grandma and Grandpa bought a special ticket, so we had a guy taking us behind the scenes and showing us how everything was built, and you’re never going to believe what I got to do!”

“What?” I ask, trying to pull from his excitement and hide my own frustrations.

“They were building this huge dinosaur, and I got to place a few of the bricks!”

I chuckle at the happiness in his voice, something I needed to hear badly right now. “That’s great, baby. Are you being a good boy?”

“Yes, Mom,” he says with what I assume is an eye roll. “I held hands and followed all the rules. I even sat on the bench with Grandma for an hour because her ankles were swelling.”

I smile. That’s my sweet boy.

“I’ve been so good that Grandma and Grandpa Mason said they’re taking me to the Sea Life Acarium.”

“You mean, the aquarium?” I guess.

“Yes, the acarium. I want to live here. They have a theme park and a waterpark and an acarium. I love Legoland!” he shouts into the phone, causing me to lightly pull it away from my ear.

“There’s been a change of plans. Grandma and Grandpa are going to take you home tomorrow morning.”

“No! They promised I’d get to see the sea turtles!”

“It’s okay. I’ll take you to the Aquarium of the Bay near our house. I want you home.”

“But, Mom,” he cries, “I was going to see the sea turtles like they have in the Great Barrier Reef where Dad lives. He told me today that he swims with them all the time. I promised him I’d find one for him at the acarium. I promised!”

And this … this right here is the reason my rules are in place. My five-year-old is hysterical in tears because he wants to keep a promise to a man who won’t ever return the favor.

“Baby, it’s nothing you did wrong. It’s just time to go home. Grandma and Grandpa are tired—”

“No, they’re not. They bought the tickets already.” His words come out in panted breaths as he tries to talk through the tears.

Eleanor comes back on the line. “Do you hear what you’re doing to this child? Really, Tessa, telling him he can’t enjoy the day because you’re punishing us—”

“Don’t make this out to be my fault. Tell me, when Ashton spoke to Charlie, did he even acknowledge that Charlie’s in kindergarten?”

She pauses and then makes a noise as if she means to say something and then goes quiet again. “He probably didn’t think of it because we’re on vacation, not doing homework.”

“He doesn’t even know what grade Charlie’s in. Hell, he doesn’t even know his birthday. His meaningful conversation with Charlie was as impactful as if he were talking to a tourist trying to rent a Jet Ski.”

There’s an even longer pause as I listen to Charlie carrying on in the background and Eleanor sighing heavily into the phone.

“Let me calm him down and get him settled for the night. I’ll call you in the morning when we’re in the car on our way home.”

Her surrender makes me feel like a world-class asshole.

“Thank you. I don’t get the best reception where I am, but I’ll check my messages first thing in the morning.”

We hang up, and I feel awful.

My coffee is getting cold, which is fine because I no longer have the desire for it. Rising from the seat, I cross my arms around my body and walk around. I throw my coffee in the garbage and look back into the coffee shop. Bryce isn’t there, so I walk around the side to look for him. When I get to the front of the building, I see him pacing the parking lot. His phone is on the ground, and he’s running his hands through his hair.

Not in the mood to talk, I walk over to the car and let myself into the passenger seat. My elbow is on the frame as I lay my head in my hand. The driver’s door opens, and Bryce folds himself into the car, the phone is now in his hand so he tosses it on the center console and starts the engine.

He pulls out of the parking lot and drives us back toward the house. The radio is off. All I can hear is the sound of the tires on pavement as we head through town. While the car is silent, my head is screaming at full volume.

“He spoke to Ashton,” I mutter, still in disbelief that Charlie spoke to his father for the first time in his entire life, and the Masons are acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And, now, he wants to go see the damn sea turtles.”

I bite my thumbnail as I peer out the window. Bryce remains stoic.

My feet start to move with nervous energy as I think of the last time I spoke to Ashton.

“Get rid of it. Don’t call me. Why are you sending me a sonogram when I said I didn’t want anything to do with it?” I say in a quiet mock Ashton voice, half in thought and mostly to myself. “And, now, I’m the bad guy.”

I glance over at Bryce, whose eyes are trained on the road. His jaw is clenched as he looks straight ahead. It’s as if he hasn’t heard a word I said.

“Charlie spoke to Ashton today,” I say out loud.

Bryce doesn’t seem to hear that either.

I speak again, “Charlie spoke to his father.”

Finally, he seems to snap out of his daze. His eyes are still trained on the road, but his brows are furrowed. “You’re upset.”

I pop up straight and raise my hands in the air. “Charlie doesn’t need to know a man who begged me to abort him, who has wanted nothing to do with his life for the last five years.”

He runs his hands around the circumference of the steering wheel and then grips it tight. “Maybe, now, he wants to get to know him. That should be a good thing.”

“It’s not a good thing to get a little boy’s hopes up. You have no idea what that will do to him. I’m the one who will have to explain why we haven’t heard from him or why he doesn’t come see him.”

“Horrible things happen in this life. Fathers wanting to have conversations with their sons is not one of them.”

“Are you serious right now? You have no clue what it’s like to be a parent.”

He has a pinched expression. “Sometimes, you have to do the right thing in this world. Even if it means putting your pride to the side and having a dinner with someone you despise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No matter what has transpired in the past, he’s his father. Family is everything, Tessa. You always talk to your father.”

“He was the sperm donor who begged me to murder my child,” I spit in pure venom.

“People make mistakes.”

I am totally baffled. “My little boy’s heart will break wide open if he doesn’t show up or, if he does, when he leaves again, promising to call but never does. Because that’s exactly what will happen. Charlie will get attached, only to have his heart broken.”

“Are you talking about Charlie now, or are you talking about yourself?”

“Excuse me?” I state my words long and with attitude.

There’s a visual change to his posture as the insult he just flung at me settles in. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did. You don’t lie, remember?”

Finally, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me. His chest rises with a deep inhale as he shakes his head and looks straight again, his jaw clenched. “My head isn’t in the right place for this. My brother and his girlfriend—my assistant, mind you—royally told off my father and stepmother before bailing on them at dinner. Austin had one fucking thing to do, and he couldn’t even do it.”

“Okay. So, he went to dinner and got into a fight with your dad. Families fight.”

“You don’t understand my family, Tessa. They’re cutthroat. All Austin had to do was play nice for one night.”

“That’s your solution? Play nice? And what happens tomorrow when they go back to behaving the way they have in the past? One dinner or one phone call doesn’t make things right.”

“Better than telling a five-year-old he can’t know his father.”

“How dare you!”

“Tessa—”

“Don’t say another word!” I scold him over the console. I puff out my cheeks and try not to scream. “You have this deranged idea of what a family is. You speak of your brother like he’s the most worthless human being, and you idolize your mother, but it doesn’t even sound like you give your father a chance at anything. You passed up love and travel and living your best life, so you can work twenty-four/seven. You haven’t taken a day off in years. So, what is this?” I motion between us and this thing that we have going on. “The stalking, the dinners, the gifts, and weekend away? Is it all some sort of way of saying fuck you to your family? Because I am not a ploy, and neither is my son.”

He runs his hand along his hair and pulls at the ends as he turns into his driveway and parks the car, tearing the key out of the ignition. He bangs on the steering wheel. “Stop acting like you know anything about my family. My stepmother would rather see me and my brothers in jail than see my mother’s dream succeed. My father has his balls in a vise and can’t do anything about it, and I don’t know why. I know what family is, and I know what I want. This thing with you isn’t a ploy. I like having this space with us as a place where I can leave all of that bullshit.”

He falls back into his seat and looks up at the roof of the car. The anguish he’s feeling on the inside radiates on the outside as he clenches his eyes shut and scrunches his mouth. His hands fist at his sides. “What have I been doing?” He’s talking, but I don’t think it’s to me. “Taking days off. Sneaking around at night to see you. Running off to Tahoe. Meeting your kid when you didn’t want anyone in your lives.”

The way he’s shaking his head as he speaks is confusing me.

“You’re speaking in code, Bryce. Spit it out.”

“I don’t know if I can do this. My job is my life. My family is being held together by a thread.” His eyes open, but he’s looking up at the ceiling.

I lean back with my hands on the seat and dash, my back to the door, and stare at him with wide eyes. “You don’t know if you can do this?”

His head rolls to the side, and those coal-like eyes are set in a pained stare.

“I didn’t want this, Bryce,” I shout despite the confines of the small space. “I was fine on my own, but you pushed, and you pushed. You forced your way into my heart, and now, you don’t know if you can do this.”

“Tessa—”

“No, Bryce. First, you tell me how I’m raising my son is wrong. Then, you tell me you don’t know if you can do this thing between us. This is exactly why I didn’t want a man in my life. Men leave. Men fuck you and leave you. My mother was right.” I rip the keys out of his hand and bolt out of the car, slamming the door.

I’m unlocking the front door as he comes barreling around the car and up the front steps.

“Tessa, wait.” He grabs my arm, but I pull it away.

“Don’t touch me.” I unlock the door and storm into the house, toward the room where my suitcase is. He’s right behind me, so I turn quickly and hold a palm to his chest, pushing him away. “Don’t follow me. For the love of God, Bryce Sexton, don’t say another word. You told me, if I wanted you to leave me alone, you would. This is me saying leave me the fuck alone.” I lower my hand and back up.

It surprises me that he isn’t speaking. Like a defeated man, he’s giving me my request. I don’t know how I feel about this, but I square my shoulders anyway and fight back the tears.

“It’s over,” I say, backing into my room. “I’m going to pack my bag, and I’m going home.”

I close the bedroom door and start to gather my things. A few minutes later, I hear his footsteps as he finally leaves the hallway and goes back toward the master bedroom. My stuff is ready to go in minutes, and I’m at the car, waiting for him in the backseat.

When he walks out the front door, he has a book tucked under his arm and his own bag in his hand. He looks in the passenger seat with a tilted head and then sees me in the back. His expression is stoic, so I don’t know what he’s thinking. What I do know is, he puts our suitcases in the trunk, gets in the driver’s seat, and brings me back to San Francisco with me lost in the book I downloaded to my phone and him sitting in absolute silence.