“You never did,” she said. “Kit, why don’t you go to your room for a second? I’m going to walk your father out to his truck.”
“Oh, fuck,” Kit muttered, and she shot a look at him. “Come on. Do you guys really have to do this? I’m sorry I brought him in, and I’m sorry I told him anything, but I’m eighteen years old, and I don’t need to hear a fucking shouting match between my divorced parents!”
She closed her eyes. That had happened, years ago, when Trev had left. They’d had increasingly bitter fights, with lots of yelling on his part, lots of crying on hers. It had been a brutal stalemate, right up to him driving away and not coming back.
“I’m not going to yell at him,” she replied, mentally reaching for the internal armor she’d built so meticulously. “Eat some pancakes if you want. Get a load of laundry started. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kit’s mouth twisted, shooting her a suspicious look.
“And then we’re going to talk,” she added firmly.
He sighed, then nodded. She gestured to Trev to follow her. The air was cold, even though it hadn’t snowed, or at least it hadn’t stuck. She should’ve put a jacket on, but she didn’t feel the chill. Trev was driving a new black Ford F-150. He had always liked his vehicles.
“I really am trying with Kit,” Trev said defensively. “He’s a good kid.”
“I know.”
“I should’ve let him know that more,” Trev finally said. “I should’ve done a lot of things differently. I see that now.”
She shrugged.
“My girlfriend, Carleigh, is helping me see some of that.”
“Was it her idea that you reach out to Kit?”
“No. That was my idea,” he said. Then, reluctantly, he added, “After I saw the, uh, sonogram.”
If Maggie’s eyes went any wider, they’d pop out of her head. “She’s pregnant?” she said. “That’s why you’re getting married? How old is she?”
Trev’s expression pulled. “She’s thirty.”
“Wow.” Twenty years’ age difference. He was going to be fifty years old with a newborn. He hadn’t even liked having a newborn when he was thirty.
She thought of a meme Mac had sent her. It’s called karma, and it’s pronounced ha ha, fuck you.
“Don’t even start,” Trev warned.
“Whatever. She’s thirty, she’s old enough to make her own decisions. And you’re going to be a father again.” The thought made her shudder. The idea of having a baby at this age, the sleep deprivation, juggling the strain of a new marriage and an infant . . .
God, she hoped this Carleigh was a stronger person than she had been.
“Kit really does worry about you,” Trev said. No. Lectured. “He’s been—”
She cut across his words. “I will deal with Kit momentarily. You’ve made it clear that you didn’t think much of my parenting. You thought I was too soft on him. You just abandoned us when you decided that no matter what you did, my influence was going to be too strong, and you couldn’t ever ‘fix’ the damage I’d done. Do you remember that?”
He looked a whole decade older. “I know I—”
“Do you remember?” she hissed. “Because I do. I took care of that kid. I helped him with homework and college applications, I was there when his first girlfriend broke his heart, I was there when his dog died. I might’ve been a bad wife, and maybe a bad mother. God knows that’s been my biggest fear. But don’t you fucking dare act like it’s your place to call me out for it. You made your choices.”
Trev’s mouth pulled into a taut line, and he nodded.
“I’m warning you once: If you fuck this up, make Kit think that he’s got a place in your life until your new son can be molded into the tough toxic masculine ideal you always wanted . . . I am not even kidding. I will kill you.”
“I don’t want to hurt Kit,” Trev said. “I promise, Maggie. I mean it.”
She looked at him. “I mean it too.”
He sighed. “Not having another son, by the way,” he muttered. “We’re having a girl. And Carleigh’s pretty determined we’re going to be one and done.”
She stared at him. God. Maybe that was why he was going to see Kit. He wasn’t ever going to have another shot at this.
“Good for you,” she said. “I’m going back inside. Kit’ll get in contact with you, and you can pick him up if you want, or he’ll drive to meet you. But either way, you’re not stepping into this house again.”
“Maggie?”
She looked over her shoulder. “What?”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said. “That I wasn’t a better husband to you. It’s not all your fault that we couldn’t make it work.”
She closed her eyes for a second. Then she laughed, the sound creaky and broken.
“Big of you,” she whispered. Then she turned around and went back into the house.
CHAPTER 38
BEWARE THE IRON WOOBIE
As soon as Aiden got the text that Davy and Sheryl had arrived at his mother’s house, he headed over. He’d spent the waiting time on Blood Saga, because, as Maggie would say, he felt like “killing shit.” Unfortunately, school was out, and he found other members of the guild hanging out, so he quickly fled the hall and did a quick solo dungeon run just to leach some of the poisonous feelings out without needing to put on a friendly face with the other members of the guild. In that time, he felt his mind getting clearer, more focused.
By the time he walked into his mother’s house, he felt preternaturally calm. Almost serene.
His mother was carping about him as he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sheryl had her back to him, while Davy was standing and leaning against counters and nodding, looking pained. His expression shifted to relief. “Aiden,” he said on an exhalation. “Listen . . .”
“What are you doing here?” his mother snapped, turning to him from her position at the kitchen table. “Because I meant what I said.”
“I understand. You were very clear that if I didn’t act the way you wanted, I wouldn’t be your son anymore.”
Davy looked ill. Sheryl turned to Aiden, her expression pinched.
“Did you see the new car Davy brought me?” his mother said, every word a barb. “He knows I can still drive. He isn’t trying to take over my life. He doesn’t embarrass me in front of family.”
Aiden took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ve worked in hospice, Mom. I’ve worked with the elderly. The last thing I want to do is infantilize you, or make you feel like you don’t have autonomy.”
She scoffed at his big words, rolling her eyes, but she still looked mollified. “I am an adult. You two are my kids, and you can’t make my decisions for me.”
“No, we can’t,” Aiden said. “But we’re both adults too. And you can’t tell us what to do at this point either.”
Davy shot him a why-are-you-bringing-me-into-this look.
“And I already told you: I’m not going to stay in the closet just because you’re afraid of what your church friends are going to say,” he said. “Even if I’m dating Maggie. Just because I’m dating a woman doesn’t make me any less bi.”