“You were always beautiful to me, from the first time I laid eyes on you. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever known.”
“I’m going to give you guys some alone time,” my sister says. She walks out of the room and her footsteps fade in the distance.
I look at the man hovering over me and smile. “Thanks for visiting me. How are my kids? How’s Jacob?”
“Everybody’s fine. Miles has your kids, and he’s being very cool about it. We’ve reached an understanding.”
My eyebrows go up at that. “You have? Do tell.”
Dev shrugs. “I just gave him the straight scoop. He has my phone number. Anytime he has a problem, he knows he can call me, day or night. Your kids were at my house last night. They had a sleepover with Jacob.”
I grab Dev’s hand. “Did it go okay?” I’m so sad I missed that event. I’m also worried that I wasn’t there to referee. My kids need that more often than I’d like to admit.
He pats my hand. “It went perfect. It was Jacob’s first sleepover, and he could not stop talking about it after your kids left. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything.”
When he says everything like that, I know exactly what he means. He’s not just talking about my concussion or my broken nose, or this weird situation with the Bourbon Street Boys, or with us or our kids. He means everything. Our world. The one we’re creating together. It’s going to be just fine. There’s just one more thing I need to clear up.
“I need to talk to Miles,” I say, attempting to sit up.
Dev gently pushes on my shoulder. “Just relax. There’s plenty of time.”
“No, I need to do it now.” I hold out my hand. “Can I borrow your phone?”
Dev hands me his cell without another word.
I dial Miles’s number and start speaking as soon as he answers. “Hi, it’s me.”
“Jenny? Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Thanks for asking. Listen, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Just . . . listen. Okay?” I take a big breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “About the other night, when you broke in to the house . . .”
“Yeah, I . . .”
“You can’t do that anymore. Ever. It’s my house and the things inside it are mine, and that’s the end of the story.”
“I know. I get it. I was just . . . acting stupid.” He sounds ashamed, which makes me happy.
“Good. I’m glad you’re admitting that. Anyway, I also wanted to say that I think you need to do a better job of being a father to our kids.”
He doesn’t respond, so I keep on going. I’m on a roll and I can’t chicken out. These things need to be said, for our children if not for my sanity. “All these weekends you either skip or cut short—it has to stop. You’re hurting the kids and you’re going to ruin your relationship with them. They need their father.”
“You have a new boyfriend.” He sounds surly now. Hurt, maybe. That’s good. I can work with that.
“So what? He’s not their father and you shouldn’t expect him to be.”
“No, I don’t. I didn’t mean that. I’m just . . .” He hisses out a sigh of frustration. “I’m just a little messed up right now. I’m not happy.” He lowers his voice. “I’m regretting some of the decisions I made.”
I want to stand up and cheer. “I’m not surprised. You’ve made some pretty terrible ones.” Like breaking my heart, for one. But now I’m kind of glad he did that, because if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have this tall, beautiful man and his adorable son in my life. I reach out and put my hand on Dev’s arm. He covers my fingers with his.
“Can I ask you a crazy question?” Miles says.
“Sure.”
“Do you think you’d ever want to get back together with me? Hypothetically speaking, that is.”
“No.” I say this with a firmness in my heart, mind, and soul. “Never. We were a bad match, Miles. We make beautiful babies together, but we create way too much misery when we stay in the same room for too long. I like how things are right now, with the caveat that you are going to step up to the plate.”
“Step up to the plate, huh?”
“Yes. Attend birthday parties. Take the kids on alternate holidays. Keep them for the full weekend. Feed them like a parent, not a teenager. Candy is not one of the four food groups.”
He laughs softly. “I was getting kind of tired of the stomachaches.” He pauses. “But . . .” He doesn’t finish.
“But what?” I ask.
“It’s stupid. Never mind.”
“No, nothing is stupid when it concerns our kids. What? Tell me.”
“What if they don’t like me? What if I tell them no more candy and no more trips to the pizza place, and they tell me they don’t want to hang out with me anymore?”