“That’s fair.” Dillion raps her nails on the counter. “Then I think the only thing you can do is confront him and hope he has a good explanation.”
I don’t attempt to contact Aaron for the rest of the weekend. Instead, I focus on putting together design plans for the newest Footprint Construction renovation project and work on the farmers’ market, since a number of things need my attention. I have emails with questions from the twenty-five vendors that have signed up. There are a lot of balls in the air, more than I thought there would be. But I want this to be a success, need it to be, so I keep juggling them.
On Sunday night I go to bed, promising myself I’m not going to reach out to Aaron first. After a fitful night’s sleep, I realize that I can’t physically consume enough coffee or energy drinks to stay alert, so I grab an old bottle of caffeine pills from the medicine cabinet and toss them into my purse. It’s been a while since I’ve had to resort to caffeine in pill form, but I need to get through my shift at the diner without falling asleep.
I’d like to say I’m surprised that I don’t hear from Aaron, but based on his monthly disappearances and the way he takes a few days before he reaches out, I’m not.
By Tuesday evening I’m exhausted from the constant anxiety and lack of sleep, and I’m tired of waiting. It’s become clear that Aaron is dodging me, especially since Tuesdays are my Footprint Construction consulting days and he’s nowhere to be found. He calls and says he has to take care of things on another project and doesn’t bother to stop by the office at the end of the day.
So instead of going home after work, I drive to Aaron’s house because I can’t take it anymore. I also need my wallet back. All I have is my credit card saved on my phone, and most of the stores here don’t have that kind of payment option like they do in the city.
Aaron’s truck is parked in the driveway, so I pull in behind it and cut the engine. I take a few deep breaths. My fingers and toes started going numb the second I made the decision to finally confront him, but it doesn’t dissuade me. I took my antianxiety medication like I’m supposed to when that happens and came here anyway.
It takes a minute for him to answer after I knock. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of freaking gray sweatpants, hair wet, as though he just came from the shower.
“Hey. I was gonna call you.” He smiles, but it looks like a lie.
He also looks tired. Like he didn’t get a whole lot of sleep this weekend.
I huff a laugh and cross my arms. “I call bullshit.”
Aaron’s brow furrows, and his tired, stormy eyes flicker with a hint of panic. “What?”
“Who was here this weekend, Aaron?”
“I don’t know—”
I hold up a hand. There’s only one logical explanation for what I saw on Friday. Only one reason for him to leave once a month and keep it a secret from me and everyone else. “Stop lying to me. Why wouldn’t you tell me you have a son?”
CHAPTER 17
THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER
Aaron
I’ve fucked up again.
It’s something I’m good at, apparently. And I keep doing it with Teagan.
“There’s no point in denying it, Aaron. I saw you with him on Friday, and before you accuse me of snooping, I left my wallet here on Thursday night, and I wanted to stop by and grab it before you left for the weekend. Imagine my surprise when I see an SUV in the driveway.”
She’s not angry. That much I can tell. It would be so much easier if she were. But the hurt that’s etched itself across her beautiful face makes me want to kick myself in the nuts.
Teagan has been nothing but patient and understanding. It’s been me putting labels on us, me pulling her closer and then taking a step back when it gets to be too much. She’s never pushed for more, for an explanation. Until now.
And she has every right to be upset and hurt. Because I’m the one who’s been holding back.
“It’s not what you think.”
“He looks exactly like you, Aaron.” It’s not an accusation. Just a simple statement of fact.
“I know.” I close my eyes and nod. When I open them again, I see her wary mistrust, and all I want to do is erase it. And my history. I want to be less messed up. I want to be the kind of guy she thinks I am, instead of the one I am. I open the door and step aside. “Come in and I’ll explain.”
It’s days like these that I wish I still drank, because I could sure use a stiff one now.
Teagan is careful not to make contact as she brushes by me. Jamie’s bin of crayons and his drawings are still on the kitchen table, which is exactly where Teagan’s eyes go. There’s no point in hiding them anymore, not now that I have to explain.
She takes a seat on the far end of the couch, and I give her the space she seems to need by sitting on the opposite end. The giant LEGO fighter plane Jamie and I built over the weekend is still sitting on the coffee table. I tried to convince him to take it home with him, but he was adamant that it stay here, with me.
“Jamie isn’t my son, he’s my nephew.” Might as well lay the truth out there. This is the easy part, anyway.
Her brow furrows. “I thought you were an only child. That’s what you led me to believe.”
I nod. She’s not wrong. I did lead her to believe that, and for all but a handful of years, I also believed it to be true. “I’m sure you’ve heard some stories about how my mom raised me on her own.”
“Dillion may have said something about that, yes.”
“My mom had an affair with a married man.”
“From the other side of the lake?” she asks.
“Yeah. She used to clean the houses over there. I guess she got all starry eyed over him, and she was a bit of a sad story. Young woman from a poor family, trying to find a way to make ends meet. Man in an unhappy marriage. You see where this is going.”
“She ended up pregnant.”
“Exactly. The story I got was that she told him she wanted to keep the baby and he ended up staying with his wife.”
“But that wasn’t the truth?”
“It was and wasn’t. There are always two sides.” I lift my ball cap and flip it between my hands to give me something else to focus on while I get the story out. “When I was applying to colleges, my counsellor suggested I try Notre Dame because I had a 4.0 GPA and got a high SAT score and they have a great football team, so maybe I’d get a scholarship or something. I figured it was worth a shot.”
“You got in.”
“I did. But tuition was expensive. I’d been working since I was fourteen, and even with my savings and scholarships, I could barely afford one year, let alone four. But my mom, oh man, she was determined to make that dream a reality. She wanted me to have all the opportunities she didn’t.”
“Did she contact your dad?”
“Yup. He was a doctor. Is still a doctor. Makes lots of money and could afford to help out, but I didn’t just want his money, I wanted to meet him. And tell him he was an asshole for bailing on us and leaving my mom to do it all on her own.”
Her expression softens as the puzzle of my past starts to come together for her. “And did you get to do that?”