Chapter 12
The next few weeks pass quickly. Daniel comes over a couple afternoons a week to do stuff in the yard and help me with projects around the house, staying each night for dinner after showering in my bathroom. I blush every time I think about him being naked...and wet...in my shower.
Daniel never makes me feel like I'm an old lady preying on him. I live for the days he comes over, for the comfortable friendship we've developed. Daniel is the one person in my life that doesn't judge me or my choices. He doesn't tell me how I need to get over it or that I need to date, or find someone new. In fact, the more time we spend together, the more convinced I am that he might be attracted to me. We've spent so much time together lately, watching movies and hanging out, or just talking about our lives.
I've learned that Dan, even though he's a senior in college, is working hard at building his own business. He says he doesn't want to rely on his father forever; he wants to make his own way. In many ways, he's wise beyond his years. We've had so many little moments—moments where his hand brushes mine or when he tucks my hair behind my ear with a small smile, instead of reminding me that I still haven't gotten the haircut I've been talking about.
Being around Daniel is easy. Each night when he finishes whatever he's working on, he comes inside and plays with CJ while I make dinner. The baby is absolutely enamored with Daniel, his eyes follow his every movement and as soon as the door opens he toddles over to meet Daniel as he walks in the door.
Sometimes at moments like those, the guilt is almost unbearable. It tugs at my heart each time, because it should be his daddy he's so happy to see. His dad is supposed to be the one coming in the door and playing with him while I finish dinner. But for my son, he'll never get that experience. He'll never see his dad walk into this house, and he'll never really know him. With that melancholy thought, I look over at my little boy who looks so much like the man I loved with all of my heart.
CJ’s sitting on the floor in my room playing with his trucks, while I rummage through my closet looking for something that doesn't scream old, frumpy, or fashion-challenged. I'm having no luck and Daniel will be done in less than an hour based on the sound of the weed eater. I'm tempted to call Lanie and ask for her advice, but if I do, either she'll be over here trying to "help" or she'll call and tell my mother that I'm doing the lawn boy. No one wants that to happen.
Finally, I spy a pair of denim capris that are just tight enough to help keep the little bit of a belly that I still have after carrying CJ from being noticeable, without causing a very unflattering muffin top, and a cream colored t-shirt with brightly colored flowers sprouting from the hem. It's still comfy, and says "I'm not a total hag" without saying "I spent half an hour trying to find something that would impress you".
Once I'm dressed, I study myself in the mirror. I know I'm being extremely critical as I take in all the places that I wish I could change. I know lots of moms see their stretch marks as a badge of honor, but that's not me. Maybe it would be different if I knew the people seeing my body had also seen me before I had a baby. Any guy that sees me naked now would probably run screaming at the silvery lines on my belly, breasts and thighs. I'm pretty certain I have some on my butt too, but there's no way I'm turning myself into a contortionist in an attempt to see.
In addition to the stretch marks, I have a little bit of a pudge. My tummy used to be completely flat thanks to all the cheerleading I did in high school. I don't have the gap between my thighs that I used to have either. I officially have a "mom body" and I haven’t come to terms with it. I really need to start going to the gym with Lanie and Erin, but then I'd have to find someone to watch CJ. I'm sure my mom would, but I'm afraid that if she knows I'm going to the gym and bettering myself, I'll come to pick up my son and find random men that she wants to set me up with. Just the thought makes me shudder.
I'm still assessing myself and my outfit when his knock on the front door startles me. Shit! He's early! Picking up CJ, I rush downstairs to open the door, breathing just a little harder, my chest heaving slightly.
"Hey," I greet him, trying not to pant. I really should start working out again if just running down the stairs has me out of breath. Maybe I should rethink the whole not wanting my mom to help out. Filing that away in the "things I'll think about later, or maybe never" section of my brain, I concentrate on the man standing in front of me.
Dan's gaze dips down to my chest before he slowly meets my eyes. I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks at the knowledge that he just blatantly checked me out. Clearing his throat, he smiles, "Hey, Genevieve." His eyes light up even more when he sees the baby reaching for him. "Hey, buddy," he says as he steps closer to take him from me.
He settles CJ in his arms as the baby starts flailing his arms and babbling at him. Daniel responds to everything like CJ is telling him all about his day, saying things like "really?" and "you don't say!" I shoot him a glare when I hear "Your mom did what?" and he chuckles.
When CJ starts saying "Dadadadadada," I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. I know he's not really calling Daniel "Daddy", he just can't say "Dan", but it still makes me feel so guilty. Logically, I know that he calls my dad "dada" half the time instead of "pops". It doesn't make it any easier though. Luckily, Daniel is engrossed in what my son is saying to him and doesn't notice the look on my face.
Stepping back, I gesture for him to come inside. Daniel walks past me, pausing in his conversation with CJ to brush a light kiss on my cheek in hello. I should be used to these by now. The first time he kissed my cheek was the night he walked in on my embarrassing breakdown.
Since then, he's shown affection in small ways each time he's been here. A kiss on the cheek, the top of my head or my forehead, or even just a light brush of his knuckles down my cheek as he says goodnight. It's not much different with the baby. He frequently places a kiss on the top of CJ’s head before he leaves, but it feels different when he does it to me. I have to admit though that I love how Daniel shows affection. I know it's wrong to keep comparing him to my husband, but I can't help it. Cade was affectionate, to a point. He was very straight-laced and perfect for military life. He would cuddle with me when we were alone, but around other people, he'd barely even put his arm around me.
Instead of stopping in the living room, Daniel continues straight to the kitchen where he sits CJ in his highchair, making sure he's safely secured, before helping get the meatloaf and mashed potatoes on the table. He pulls my chair out, waits for me to sit, and then takes his own seat. Our conversation during dinner is as comfortable as it always is, Daniel tells me about his classes this week, and the houses he's had to visit to either maintain the landscaping or discuss new projects.
He's so creative. He actually brought his portfolio over the last time he was here. We spent the entire night going over each picture, him telling me stories about the clients and how he came up with different designs. His landscapes look like works of art, much more elaborate than what he's done here. When I asked him why, he told me that my husband had told him to make it simple, something I could take care of on my own if needed. I don't think Daniel realized what he’d been thinking, but I did. Cade was making contingency plans in case he was deployed and didn't come home. He was always thinking ahead, planning for the worst even if he never said that.
Daniel makes me laugh when he talks about his classmates and how his roommate smuggled a goose into the dorm. It escaped and chased a couple of girls down the hall, squawking its head off. I always forget that he's so much younger than me, because he doesn’t act like a twenty-two-year-old. Daniel is more certain of himself, and there’s something else too—the residue from life lingers on his shoulders the same way it does for me. It seems to close the age gap. I don’t know what tarnished him to make him seem older, or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it's from taking care of his sister for so long. He was forced to grow up much faster than he should have.
Dan’s face is animated, his arms moving around, as he explains a particularly difficult customer, one who is never happy with what he does, even when it's exactly what she wanted. “If I can ever make that woman happy, I’ll die of shock.”
"Maybe she just wants an excuse for you to come back," I say with a laugh. I can totally see that being the case. Not to mention, he's a young guy, who even though he's in college, owns his own business and works harder than anyone else I know. I bet every woman in San Antonio is after him. Just the thought makes me grip my fork tighter in jealousy even though he’s not mine.
Daniel laughs, but I know I embarrassed him because a faint pink color races across his cheeks as he avoids my gaze. I start to apologize, but he waves it off. "Don't worry about it, Gen. You're probably right anyway."
I smile up at him because he's never acknowledged the way women want him before. I don't say anything though, after all, what can I say? I'm one of them. With a shrug, Daniel starts to clear the dishes off the table, leaving me to take CJ up for his bath and to get him ready for bed.