Love Confessed Page 11

  “Wow daddy! You have a lot of trophies.” Abby says in a breath of amazement, breaking me from my thoughts. I didn’t even hear her come up the stairs and creep up behind me.

  “Yep. Daddy was a football star, babe.” I put the picture back on the desk and haul Abby up in my arms so she can get a closer look at the trophies.

  “You must have been really good to have so many. Do you think I could play football one day too?”

  “Honey, If football is what you pick, we’ll find a way for you to play it. I will support you doing whatever you want to do.”

  “Is that mommy?” Just like that her attention has moved to the next thing.

  “Yes it is. That was the day she told me about you.” I respond.

  “Where am I?”

  “Well,” shit how am I supposed to explain this? Kids and their questions. “ You weren’t born yet. You were in her belly.

  “Oh because she was pregnant with me.” She’s so matter of fact. A part of me wants to know how she knows about being pregnant but I don’t know if I’m prepared to answer the questions that could be brought up with that conversation so instead I pretend talk is magically avoidable. I simply answer with a “yes.”

  “She’s beautiful. Do you think I will be that beautiful?”

  “You already are.” I kiss her forehead and together we go downstairs to find my mom.

  I love being back home. I don’t come back often enough, and every time I do, I swear to do it more often. And I really need to. I’m swamped at work, I juggle the single dad routine, and going home is so relaxing. It helps me regroup so much more than my monthly poker night with the guys or even taking Abby on a vacation. Until I get home, I forget how much I love the open air and how much lighter I feel here. I also forgot how much work it is. I now remember why my dad falls asleep at eight o’clock every night. When he falls asleep, I sit on the couch with two of my now three leading ladies to watch a movie and eat some cobbler. I don’t think my mother is physically capable of not taking care of the people in her house but I like being spoiled more than I’d ever admit to anybody but her. More than any grown man should. But I don’t feel bad about it this moment as I take a bite of my favorite peach cobbler, still warm from sitting on the stove.

  My older brother, Seth, lives in a separate house on the farm – a house that used to be an old barn but that Seth renovated after he got married. He stayed home to take the farm over and he doesn’t even try to hide his appreciation for being spoiled as he walks home from work with plates of dinner and cobbler for himself and his wife Sarah. They are expecting their first child and graciously accept any opportunity to take a night off cooking - and I’m sure she has many because my mom wouldn’t have it any other way. I can tell Mom is happy to have me home though, even though it adds more work to her already full plate. The second Abby falls asleep with her head on her grandma’s lap, the questioning begins. I notice out of the corner of my ye that Mom is smoothing Abby’s hair, trying to act nonchalant. I take a sip of my beer and shake my head, smiling. I’m surprised she was able to wait this long to pester me. It must have taken everything in her to refrain.

  “So son, how’s life in the city? You know you’re a good man Steven. You’d make a good husband for somebody. I really wish you’d give dating a try. Did I tell you I ran into Sherry’s daughter at church on Sunday? She was in town visiting and it turns out her daughter lives near you. I got her number for you, just in case you’re interested. She’s a nice girl and she just got divorced last year. Poor thing. From what I heard though, it’s a good thing. Her husband was a real jerk.” So it begins, without any sort of preamble whatsoever. At least Mom’s style is consistent, I think to myself as I take another bite.

  “Thanks mom, but no thanks. I’m pretty sure I can manage fine on my own.”

  “Well, you’re not managing very well now are you?” she says when she looks over at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Actually mom, I am. I kind of met somebody.”

  “Wait, you what? What do you mean kind of?” She looks skeptical, like she doesn’t believe me. Jeez, I lied to her one time about dating to get her off my back and now she thinks I do it all the time.

  “Okay not kind of. I did meet somebody.” I laugh at the frustrated look on her face as her eyes go wide.

  “You’re going to make me dig, aren’t you?” she asks.

  I smirk at her and take another drink. “Maybe.”

  “Steven James Cooper…”

  “Fine, fine Mom. Wouldn’t want to make you work too hard for the coveted intel. Whaddya wanna know?”

  “Well since I don’t know anything, there are a lot of places you can start son” she smiles at me. Her very most patronizing mom smile.

  “Well, her name is Leah. She’s a lawyer and she works at my friend Scott’s law firm. She’s has a son who is in Abby’s class and they’ve become really good friends. His name is Ethan and he’s the one she was talking to you about inviting out to ride horses sometime over the summer.” Before I can stop myself, before I even realize that I think it, I tell her “Mom, I really think; I think she could be it.”

  13 Leah

  London is incredible. I haven’t been here in so long that it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time again and I’m absolutely in love. My family travelled a lot when I was growing up, before my mom died. My dad’s parents lived in Italy so I spent a good deal of time in Europe as a child. The last time I was here though was shortly after Ethan was born. I wanted Joseph’s family to meet their new addition. However, I was still upset enough at Joseph that I refused to stay with him and basically only saw him when I took Ethan to his parent’s house. When we step outside the airport the chill catches me off guard and shakes me from my memories. I realize that I packed my jacket in my checked bags instead of carrying it with me. Stupid me. When I stop to set my luggage down and pull it out, Joseph is already there wrapping me in his own jacket.

  “It’s too cold out here, kitten, to be without a jacket. You’re not in Chicago anymore.” He says and his touch sends a small shiver through my body as his hand somehow settles on the small of my back. My reaction surprises me for a couple of reasons. One, I really like Steve. I know it’s early but I feel like there’s really something there, and I feel like my body is betraying him on some level by feeling this zing I feel from Joseph’s touch. Two, Joseph and I haven’t been together since the night we, well, conceived Ethan. How can he still affect me this way? Ugh. Frustrated with my conflicted thoughts and feelings I take a step back. “Thank you,” is all that I can say right now but the look on his face tells me that he knows there’s a whole lot more going on inside of my head right now. I have a definitive love/hate relationship with his ability to read me.

  Joseph weaves in and out of traffic as we make the forty-five minute drive to his home in Camden Town. This will be our first time seeing his place and for some reason I’m nervous. He’s been very attentive to Ethan and I from the moment we stepped out of the terminal. While I appreciate his attention to me, it doesn’t compare to how my heart melts to see Ethan having this father-son interaction he so desperately needs. The last time I came here I stayed at a hotel because I felt vulnerable, angry and didn’t want to run the risk of giving into Joseph’s charming ways. This time the nervousness that I’m feeling is so much more confusing because of what’s happening with Steve. I thought that after six years and after finally meeting a guy who gives me feelings that I haven’t felt in far too long, that I would be safe staying with Joseph. When he asked if I’d stay with him and Ethan, I didn’t even think twice. But now? Now I’m thinking that may not have been such a good idea. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Joseph on his turf, in his element, that I forgot how comfortable and sexy he is. Also, the last time I was here I was so mad at him still, so hurt, that there was no way in hell I could have felt these feelings that I’m feeling now; feelings that make me wish I hadn’t foolishly accepted his hospitality.

&nbs
p; “Well, here we are.” he says turning and giving me an adoring look. At that moment I know that this housing situation was a terribly poor choice. I’ve seen pictures of Joseph’s flat but I’m still surprised how quickly I fall in love with it when I see it in person. It’s perfect, and everything about it just reminds me of him. It’s white with a brick exterior that blends in nicely with the other posh flats on the winding, tree lined street. It’s so exactly the England you’d expect to see portrayed in a romantic comedy, or a novel. As soon as we pull to a stop, Ethan bolts out of the car and races his dad to the door - he can’t wait to see the huge surprise that Joseph promised him awaits. Joseph opens the door and ushers us in with a sweep of his arm and a “Welcome home, loves.”

  We’re greeted by a friendly Great Dane that is just about as tall as Ethan. I can’t tell if the child or dog is more excited about their new best friend. Either way, I’m pretty sure it’s love at first sight for both of them. Joseph introduces us to Rufus and puts his hand on the small of my back again as he guides us through the threshold for the tour. The sensation of his hand on my back again calls back feelings that I don’t want to have, creating an electricity inside of me that I am in no way prepared to feel so I try my hardest to ignore it.

  Joseph’s flat is amazing. Open and airy, with big windows, wood floors, exposed brick and built in book cases. All of the traditional English charm one could hope for but he’s managed to make the space cool and masculine, decorating with greys and blues, an obscenely large flat screen tv that’s suitable only for a bachelor, while the opposing wall is decorated in stainless steel accents that serve to give the traditional space a smoothly modern feel. It’s very sleek, very manly, very classic, very simple. Very Joseph. I’m trying to appreciate my surroundings but it’s hard while I’m being distracted by the hand that’s still at the small of my back.

  I’m so relieved to be saved by an incoming text, but when I slide my phone unlocked to see it, I blush. I feel bad, like I’m being dishonest to Steve standing this close to Joseph and feeling the flutter that I do. Steve and I are new and undefined but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong. But at the same time, I feel like I need to hide my phone from Joseph so he doesn’t see who I’m texting. I feel almost like I need to protect them both. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not dating either of them, technically. I’m not doing anything wrong, but I’m so confused by how I feel like I am. I’ve been caught off kilter by these voices in my head since landing and I’d forgotten to text Steve back and let him know I arrived.

  Heya lady, I hope that you landed safely.

  It’s 11:30 in the morning in England so that means it’s 5:30 in the morning in Chicago. Has he been worried about me? It’s early there, has he been up thinking about me? Realizing that he probably has makes me feel even worse for forgetting to text him, but it also makes me smile just a little bit bigger. I’m not this girl, I’ve never been this conflicted. I’ve never been boy crazy either. I can barely develop any substantial interest in one man, let alone try to juggle simultaneous thoughts about two men. Fortunately for everybody, I am able to push my guilt to both parties aside and I text Steve back while Joseph leads us up the stairs.

  The first room up the stairs is the white, airy, guest room that had to have been decorated by his mother. Or maybe girlfriend? I assume he’s had some over the years. Even though we didn’t work out I’m still honest enough to admit that Joseph’s quite the catch. All these years later though, our relationships are conversations we only skirt around besides having had the obligatory conversations regarding what is and isn't acceptable with regards to significant others in Ethan’s life. Honestly though, neither of us have gotten deep enough into a relationship for that to be a concern. I’d always assumed he’d get to that point before I would.

  Across the hall from my room is the room where Ethan will be sleeping. It feels a little bit like walking into an old English society club, which I’m sure wasn’t a stretch for Joseph to pull off as that was the atmosphere of the majority of his adolescence. Upon closer inspection though, I realize that this isn’t a guest room for Ethan to sleep in. It is the bedroom that Joseph has for his son. Ethan’s bedroom. There are pictures up in the room of Ethan as a baby, pictures I’ve sent Joseph of Ethan over the years, and a couple of larger pictures of Ethan and Joseph together over the years. As the boys excitedly run to the bookshelf and Legos, science kits, and racecars that Joseph has stashed neatly away into organized compartments, I find myself walking over to the nightstand. Sitting next to the lamp is a photo of Ethan and I smiling at my phone taking a selfie on Navy Pier. A picture that was on my Facebook and for some reason the fact that Joseph noticed and cared enough to print it out catches me off guard. When I turn around I see him watching me look at the picture, gauging my reaction, waiting for me to say something – but I don’t because I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what I feel so I politely excuse myself from the boys’ excited assembly of a model airplane already started on the desk and head back down the hall to the bathroom that Joseph pointed out on the tour.

  There’s nothing quite as relaxing as a long bath after flying and I slide into Joseph’s sunken jacuzzi tub in the bathroom that’s nearly as large as my dining room. With the lights dimmed and my cell phone on shuffle and docked into the port built into the counter, I almost fall asleep to daydreams of Steve and the last night we spent at my apartment somehow fighting for space in my head with the feel of Joseph’s hand on my back and the, well, the sad look when he caught me staring at the picture. What the hell is going on? I’ve barely come up from sinking all of the way under the water in frustration when Joseph knocks on the door and snaps me out of my reverie.

  “Hey love, err…it appears our boy is starving. How about we nip down to the pub for some fish and chips?”

  “Give me five?” I answer sounding much more frustrated than I intend to.

  “Take your time, our stomach’s will be eating themselves while we wait downstairs. No rush though kitten, truly.”

  I shake my head at him. His dry wit has always made me smile. I get out of the tub throw on some jeans, boots, my favorite scarf and chunky cable sweater; so eager to dress like fall in June, and we head to the dingy pub at the end of the street. We have dinner as a family and catch up and it’s amazing. Now that Ethan is older we’re able to engage in a way that we’ve never been able to together before and it makes me so happy to look across the table and see those smiling boys with their baby blues. I’m so very glad we are here.

  Suddenly though, the traveling has caught up to me and I barely make it into the plush bed before I collapse, pull the down comforter over myself and am as dead to the world as I can remember being in years.

  When I wake up I peek out of my room and wander down the stairs to find the boys playing video games while they sneak bites of doughnuts. They both look up when they hear me enter the room with that deer in headlights “oh shit we got caught” look and I can’t help but shake my head and laugh at them, these two peas in a pod. It always amazes me when I see them together that, even with the infrequency of the visits we’re able to pull off, they’re the same person in so many ways. Their looks, their mannerisms, their physical attributes, all of it – my son is definitely his father’s child.

  “Mommy, is it time to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house yet?!”

  "Let me get some coffee and wake up a little bit first, kiddo." I reply before I turn to Joseph for direction on where to get the coffee. He stands and strides over to me, without ever having looked away since I walked down the stairs, and tells Ethan to take over his turn.

  "You're still so beautiful when you first wake up." He says as he approaches me and grabs my shoulders, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I turn my head to avoid his friendly kiss and spin on my heel towards the kitchen. I know this isn't the right time to bring up the past but all these mixed emotions are starting to get to me. We walk into the kitchen in
silence and while he puts the pod in his espresso machine I turn to the fridge and stop dead in my tracks when I reach for the door and see a photo of him and I together. We’re leaning together on my grandparents couch in our oversized school sweatshirts and jeans watching tv that Christmas break he spent when Gramps was dying. What the fuck is that picture doing here? Did he put it up because I was coming? It looks aged, like it’s been here for a while, and for some reason this is the straw that breaks the camels back.

  "How would you know how I look in the morning, Joseph? You left me before I was even awake." I’m too tired, too frazzled to even try to cover the hurt. It’s a topic that’s bound to come up someday so we may as well get it over with now.

  "Ouch kitten, that one was a low blow,” he sighs as he leans back against the counter and runs his hands through his hair while still looking at me, trying to choose his words carefully. God, I wish he didn’t look so sexy standing there with his sweats hanging on his hips just so. Not right now, not when I’m this angry at him. I shouldn’t even be noticing that… “ You’re right. I think we should discuss what happened that day Leah,” he exhales softly, sadly. “I..."

  "I don't want to hear an excuse Joseph. You left. I’d given up on us every being anything but friends but you came to my room, you kissed me then made love to me and finally…” I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. He looks as hurt as I feel and for some reason that makes me even more angry. He’s the one who left. How fucking dare he! Fortunately for my dignity I manage to myself together enough to say a little bit more softly and with a little bit more composure looking right at him, “Joseph you finally held me, you finally fell asleep with me and then you left the next morning. Before I even woke up. How? How could you do that to me? We were best friends and you hurt me so badly,” my tone softens.