He laughed, deep and full, and butterflies took off in every fucking direction, making me lightheaded. “Point taken.” Sobering, he asked, “What made you and Jamie’s father divorce?”
I tensed, my immediate knee-jerk reaction being to jump ship and not answer. But we’d basically just traded imaginary friendship bracelets, so he deserved the truth. I pulled my hand away, trying not to read too much into the way his fingers clenched the empty air.
“My ex-husband, Aaron, the one you met? He’s not Jamie’s dad.”
His eyebrows shot up, not necessarily in shock but rather mild surprise, which I’d expected. He’d already hinted once before that he assumed them to be one and the same.
“When I was sixteen, I dated a guy who was four years older than me. We were together less than a year before we broke up, and then I found out I was nine weeks pregnant. I was seventeen by the time I gave birth. He was twenty-one. In the state of Kansas, I was of legal age to consent, but it obviously didn’t go over well with my family.”
I laughed humorlessly, watching my son chase the ball and successfully steal it from an opponent.
“He’d always been controlling, telling me what to wear, how to act, making me straighten my hair and wear certain makeup. But he got nasty during my pregnancy and started following me around and obsessively calling my phone.” I looked down, distracting myself with pushing back my cuticles.
“In the end, my parents threatened to put a restraining order on him, and I was induced at the hospital under an anonymous name. We even tried to get his parental rights removed. It was denied, but the court ruled he had to attend parenting classes and anger management before he could have non-supervised visitation with Jamie.”
“And did he?” he asked, his tone indicating he already knew the answer.
“No. He disappeared soon after when he realized he had no control over me or Jamie. I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t regret any of it because it gave me Jamie, but the guy was just a nameless sperm donor. Nothing else. And I’m finally at a point in my life where I’m okay with that.”
“That’s a lot to go through at such a young age.”
I nodded absently, chewing the inside of my lip and feeling uncomfortable. “Anyway, I’d already known my ex-husband through mutual friends during all of that, and we eventually eloped when I turned 18. The rest you know.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Like I said, my plane is packed the fuck full.” I stood, gathering up my purse and trash. “Let’s go, it looks like the game’s over.”
I felt bad for how little I’d actually paid attention. If it wasn’t for the scoreboard, I wouldn’t even know they’d won. But when it was all said and done, it didn’t matter. The look on Jamie’s face when he saw Garrett and me standing near the field was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. He hugged me so hard, I almost popped an ovary, but I hugged him back, congratulating him on the team’s win.
When I turned, Garrett had approached my parents and was shaking my dad’s hand, introducing himself. My conveniently timed indigestion reared its head at the sight.
There was a pull on my arm, “Grandpa said we could go get frozen yogurt after the game.”
“Did he now?”
I should say no. None of us had consumed anything remotely resembling healthy food today, but I figured go big or go home, right? Jamie had won his game after all. I may not have paid attention, but a win was a win, and we could celebrate it.
Turning to see both my dad and Garrett looking over at us, I offered a goofy smile. “Apparently, we’re going out for frozen yogurt, would you like to join us, Garrett?”
He smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Does anyone ever say no to frozen yogurt?”