Chapter 16
Allie
I’m hungry,” Ben says, rolling over and staring at me. His blue eyes are big under the thick lenses of his glasses. With his head in my lap and his body encased in a Cars sleeping bag, he appears small and vulnerable. At least his fever has come down since I gave him some kid Tylenol after picking him up from school.
I straighten his glasses. “Toast? Soup?”
He glances at the TV for a moment. Ben is a careful decision maker. Not sure where he got the skill, because between Trevor and me, he should be tremendously impulsive. I’ve worked hard at growing out of my impulsivity, but my actions lately prove I still need to work at it.
His lips unscrew from a tight knot of thought. “Both?”
“All right.” I give his forehead a quick kiss and then scoot out from under him, using a pillow to replace my lap. As I head into the kitchen, I can’t decide if I feel happy or pissed that Trevor blew us off. After he called to invite us to dinner, I suggested that he come over and watch a movie with us instead, since Ben is still sick. He declined, of course.
The idea of sitting with a sick kid doesn’t appeal to him, even if the sick kid is his own son and it would mean time with me. I’m not stupid. I’m guessing a hookup is part of his motivation right now. But then again, if he really wanted that, he’d be trying to see Ben more. He’s been home over two weeks and has only taken Ben four times. Apparently, he has more important things to do than visiting with his son. My guess is those things have to do with Jazz.
Regardless that I’ll always wish for Ben’s sake that one day we could be a family, Trevor will never grow up. He’s good at inking. He’s good at partying. He’s good at making a girl feel like she’s the center of his world, even if it’s not true. Being a father? Not so much. And he definitely sucked at being a husband.
If it weren’t for Ben, I’d view the years between fifteen and twenty as a total waste. But not all the memories are bad. There are good ones, like Trevor’s look of awe holding Ben in the hospital for the first time, Ben smashing his first birthday cake in Trevor’s face, and Trevor playing with a newly walking Ben on the beach. But Trevor never cared for the small things, the day-to-day stuff of Ben’s life. Teething, diapers, reading books before bed, even following Ben on a tricycle up and down the block—things that would have taken up too much of his valuable time. Time that he could spend inking or partying or screwing Jazz.
I sigh and pull out a can of soup for Ben. As I reach for the bread, my phone vibrates on the counter. Justin’s been texting me all day. Other than glancing at the first one, I haven’t read any of the messages or even picked up the phone. When I find the heart, I’ll erase them without reading. Then I’ll have to find the courage to call him and break it off.
As I slide the bread into the toaster, I’m guessing that might take a few days.
Though I’ve had doubts about dating him from the start, I’m attracted to Justin—okay, really, really attracted—and slamming the door on the chance to be with him is going to hurt a little. Between his gorgeous face and his insanely hot inked body, how could it not? But his reaction today solidified all my reservations. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked I never told him or filled with disgust to learn that I was a parent—either way, he pissed me off. His response also made my recent idiocy clear.
I absently grab the butter dish as I wait for the toast to pop up.
A future for Justin and me is implausible. He’s a college student and the lead singer of a local college band. He parties all the time, appears to have a trust fund, and hooks up with different women on a regular basis—for goodness’ sake, he has groupies. I’m a single mother running a business, going to school, and paying her own way. He lives a carefree life. I have too many responsibilities to count. Important responsibilities.
I glance at Ben watching TV as I stir the chicken noodle soup.
If I’m going to date, he has to be someone who is settled in life, knows where he’s going, and has a sense of responsibility. I feel old and judgmental thinking like that, but I’ve been down the Trevor road. Both Ben and I need stability. And Justin is the farthest thing from stable.
I’m aware that many people would call me uptight. Other single mothers date regularly, and don’t consider it a big deal. My reluctance is partly because the only person I’ve ever really dated is Trevor—from when I was fourteen to when I was sixteen. Then, when we got back together after an especially bad breakup, I stupidly let him talk me into marriage. Okay, he didn’t have to talk much. I was on cloud freakin’ a million after he asked me. But having wedding rings didn’t make our problems go away, and less than two years later I was freshly divorced. At the time I imagined being a teenage mother would have guys crossing me off their possible lists. Once I got distance from Trevor though—and got my head screwed on right—I realized I would be crossing men off my list. Shuffling a parade of men in and out of my son’s life wasn’t an option. And I had no interest in dating someone who wasn’t interested in being part of Ben’s life.
And Justin, with his harem of fans, doesn’t belong anywhere near my empty list of possible men to date.
After cutting the toast into bite-size pieces and letting the soup cool, I take a tray to the coffee table.
Ben sits up. “That smells good,” he says.
I’m hoping his enthusiasm is a sign the bread and soup will stay down. I open the cabinet under the TV. “You want me to put a DVD in?”
Chewing on toast, he nods vigorously.
“The Magic School Bus or Sid the Science Kid?” I ask. I’m not sure where my son got his insatiable curiosity. Except for art, I was never more than a decent student. Trevor was a bad boy in high school and his grades reflected it. But our son is going to be a scientist or a mechanical engineer or something amazing.
“Bus,” he says through a mouthful of toast.
Done loading the DVD, I move to the couch as he splashes soup all over the coffee table. “Here,” I say, sitting next to him. “Let me help.”
We watch TV as I feed him soup. Done eating, he curls against me. I let him watch one more episode, then run him a bath. He doesn’t play like usual, just lets me soap and rinse. Clean and dressed in warm pajamas, he leans into me.
“Can I sleep with you?” he asks, his mouth a cute pout.
After Trevor left, I let Ben sleep with me far too often. Breaking the habit had taken one hellish month. But when he’s sick, I usually cave. “Just tonight,” I say, hugging him back. “Tomorrow you’re back in your bed.”
“Tomorrow I’ll feel good enough for my bed,” he says firmly with a soft smile. My heart warms.
Ben always melts my heart.
I read his favorite book. He falls asleep. Too tired to do anything but brush my teeth, I trudge to the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the counter comes at me in the hall.
I ignore it and the tug at my heart.
Because if I do ignore Justin, my heart will be safe. It’s not only my practical thoughts concerning Ben that are keeping me from picking up the phone. It’s mostly my torn, beaten, fearful heart.