Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “I thought you wanted him in a regular classroom.”

  “I do. I’m talking about having a safe space at school where he can go if he needs it. Maybe an aide for at least part of the day.”

  “I see.” She lifted her shoulders. “That sounds reasonable.”

  “You’d think.”

  Our sandwiches arrived, and she waited until the server had refilled our drinks and left before saying anything else.

  “OK, I can’t take it anymore. Tell me about her.”

  For a second, I blanked. But one look at her eager expression, and I realized. Fucking Monica. I picked up one half of my sandwich. “Her name is Jillian Nixon. She’s a pediatrician.”

  “Is she related to Dale and Bunny Nixon?”

  “No clue. But I don’t think so. She grew up on a cherry farm on Old Mission.”

  “Hm. Maybe a different family, then. I think Dale was originally from downstate.” She looked a little disappointed, then flapped a hand before picking up her sandwich. “Oh well. So tell me more. Monica mentioned you met her at a wedding?”

  “Yes.” I gave her a sanitized version of our meeting eleven years ago and told her we’d run into each other—sort of literally—at Sebastian’s wedding.

  “The lawyer?”

  “Yes. His wife is Jillian’s sister.”

  “How nice.” She smiled and touched her lips with her napkin. “So you’ve been seeing her about a month?”

  “About that.”

  “And it’s going well?”

  “It is.”

  I said nothing further, and she sighed dramatically. “For heaven’s sake, Levi. You’re killing me.”

  “How so?”

  “Because this is the first woman you’ve talked about in years, and I’m thrilled for you, and you won’t give me more than the vital stats and two-word answers.”

  I swallowed a bite. “It’s new.”

  “Another two words. Can I at least have four please?”

  Taking another bite, I chewed and thought. “I like her a lot. There, that’s five.”

  Another sigh. She put her reuben down, a hurt expression on her face. “You’re punishing me. I get it.”

  “Do you?” Haha, another two words. I kind of liked this game.

  “Yes. You moved out because I was all up in your business, as Monica tells me, and now you’ve shut me out completely. Am I really that bad?”

  I popped the final piece of my sandwich in my mouth and thought about how to answer that. “Sometimes.”

  “Is that really why you moved out?”

  “Monica said that?”

  “Only because I was griping about never seeing you. She said you’ve been busy and told me you’d been seeing someone. I was shocked that I had no idea. And hurt. I want to be in your life, Levi. And Scotty’s life.”

  “I know, Mom. And I want you to be in it. But you have to stop telling me I’m doing everything wrong.”

  She put a hand on her chest. “I never said you’re doing everything wrong!”

  “Well, that’s how you make me feel. Look, I know you think I screwed up and got someone pregnant.”

  “Levi!” She sat back, her expression stunned, maybe even hurt. “I have never said that to you.”

  “I guess I just felt it then. Like Monica did everything right—college, marriage, children—and I was the fuckup.”

  “That is not me talking.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “My grandchildren are the light of my life and every one of them was destined to enter this world and be loved to pieces by me, whether they were a surprise or not. And your dad and I did not raise any fuckups.”

  I had to smile at hearing her use that word, but it was short-lived. “You criticized me so much as Scotty got older that it made me feel that way. Like you thought I couldn’t possibly be mature or smart enough to handle parenting a child on my own.”

  “Not once did I think that. All parents criticize their children’s parenting skills! It’s our right as grandparents!”

  I considered that. “Maybe I was extra sensitive, then. I already felt bad enough that Scotty was going to grow up without a mother, and as he grew and it was clear he wasn’t a typical kid, I felt even less sure of myself.”

  My mother leaned forward and spoke softer. “I could see that, Levi. So I tried to help the best way I could. I managed to raise two beautiful, smart, amazing people. I thought I had something to offer you.”

  “You did,” I said. “You offered me and Scotty a home and helped me take care of him when he was a baby. I needed that, and I’m so grateful. But I got to a point where I really wanted to find my way on my own, and I couldn’t do that living in your house.”

  Her shoulders slumped a bit. “I see your point. It’s hard not to mother your child just because he’s an adult, especially when he lives with you. I guess I saw you struggling and couldn’t resist trying to make it all better.”

  “You can’t.” My tone was firm.

  “Back to two words, huh?”

  I cracked a tiny smile.

  “I saw that,” she teased. Sighing, she sat up straight again. “OK. So no more criticizing. I will listen when you need to talk and try my very hardest to let you do things your way and not say a word, even if I disagree.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “And in return,” she went on smoothly, “please tell me more about Jillian. Monica said she hasn’t met Scotty?”

  “Not yet.” I focused on the other half of my sandwich.

  “I think that’s wise, really I do.”

  I looked at her to see if she was being facetious, but her expression was earnest. “I think you two need time to get to know each other before you bring her into his life.”

  “I agree.”

  “You don’t want to introduce her too soon and confuse Scotty about who she is, especially if it doesn’t work out. And for her sake, you don’t want to make it seem like you’re simply looking for a replacement mother.”

  “She would never think that. And it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Plus you need time alone together. Romantic time,” she said authoritatively. “Just because one of you has a child doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat her to a proper courtship.”

  I almost laughed. Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing against her refrigerator Saturday night. Treating her to a proper courtship. “What was that about promising not to meddle?”

  He face went blank as she picked up her Diet Coke. “I never said anything about not meddling. No mother in her right mind would ever promise not to meddle. I promised not to criticize so much.”

  “Oh.”

  “And anyway, I hope you’ll like this meddling, because I want to do something for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  She grinned. “How about if Dad and I come down and stay with Scotty for a weekend? Or even a night? Don’t get mad, but Monica told me what happened Saturday night. I felt terrible for you.”

  I groaned, setting my sandwich down. “Fucking Monica.”

  “Well, you know she can’t keep a secret, darling. You can’t lie and she can’t keep a secret. That’s always been the way you two are.”

  I sucked up some iced tea, wondering if it was too early for some whiskey.

  “Anyway,” she went on breezily. “What do you think of my offer? I promise to do everything exactly the way you want me to. Scotty can stick to his regular routine in his normal environment, your dad and I get some quality time with him, and you get alone time with your lady friend.”

  My lady friend. Jillian would love that one.

  Should I do it? God, I was so tempted. If she meant what she said, and she’d stick to Scotty’s routine without any “improvements” or surprises, he might be OK. Staying at Monica’s had been a change in routine and a change in environment. This had the potential to go a lot smoother. Maybe I’d try it for a night, and if it went well, we could do a weekend eventually.


  “OK, Mom. I’ll take you up on the offer.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Good!”

  “But you have to do it exactly like you said. Follow the routine to the letter. And call me at the first sign of a meltdown.”

  She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “In that case, what’s your weekend like?”

  “I’m all yours.”

  “Friday night would be great. It’s her birthday.”

  “How nice! Take her somewhere wonderful. Maybe Chateau Grand Traverse. Or one of the new wineries! You could have dinner at one of the tasting rooms.” She noticed my expression. “Does that eye roll mean I’m meddling?”

  “Yes. I can handle the date details if you can handle Scotty.”

  “I can.”

  “Good. If you come down in the early afternoon, you could take him to swim therapy after school. He really loves it.”

  Her eyes got misty. “Oh, I’d love that. I’m so happy, Levi. This is perfect.”

  Nothing was perfect, but an entire night with Jillian sounded pretty close. I couldn’t wait to tell her.

  Jillian

  When I checked my phone Monday after work, I noticed I’d missed a call from Levi. He hadn’t left a voicemail, but he’d texted. Give me a call when you get a moment. Good news.

  What kind of good news? I wondered. Maybe he’d talked to his sitter and she was available Friday. I would be happy if that was the case, but part of me kind of hoped she wouldn’t be able to watch Scotty, and Levi would ask me to come over instead of canceling the date. I didn’t need anything elaborate for my birthday, and getting to meet his son would have been a wonderful gift. But I didn’t want to pressure him.

  I called him back on the drive home.

  “Hey you,” he said when he answered.

  “Hi.”

  “How was your day?”

  “Good. Yours?”

  “Good. I had lunch with my mother.”

  “Oh yeah? Was that planned?”

  “No, it was an ambush. She pretended to miss me and said she just wanted some time with me, but really she’d heard about you from my sister and wanted the scoop.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like something my mom would do. Or my sisters. How’d it go?”

  “It was good, actually. I tried to get out of it at first, but she guilted me into going, and then once we were there, I ended up saying some things to her I probably should have said a while ago.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Nothing earth-shattering, but I let her know that her criticism of my parenting choices wasn’t appreciated. And I’d be glad to spend more time with her if she agreed to stop doing it.”

  “Good for you. It’s hard to stand up to your parents, even as an adult.”

  “Yeah, I think she understood where I was coming from. And honestly, a lot of what I took as criticism or felt as censure might have been typical mom advice I was just extra sensitive to, because I already felt like I had no idea what I was doing.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “I’d always felt like the bad kid growing up, because Monica was so perfect and never got in any trouble, so when I got Tara pregnant I kind of assumed they viewed it as my biggest fuckup ever.”

  As ridiculous as it sounds, the phrase I got Tara pregnant spiked a rush of jealousy so fierce, my heart rate sped up. Had he said when Tara got pregnant, I don’t think I’d have reacted that way, but somehow the I got made me think of him actually having sex with her. Creating a child inside her. Watching that child grow within her. Being present at his birth. Experiencing with her all the wonderful and miserable things new parents experience—hearing him cry for the first time, changing diapers, feeding him, giving baths, taking him to his checkups. Every day I saw bleary-eyed, adoring new parents in the office. He’d already done all that with someone. It’s not like I hadn’t known it before, but I felt an ache in my gut all the same.

  I tried to clear my head. “Wow. Did you say that to her?”

  “I did, actually. And she swore it wasn’t true.”

  “Good.”

  “She also promised to do less criticizing and more listening, and she offered to come down with my dad and stay overnight with Scotty at the house so you and I can have some time alone together.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. She called it treating you to a proper courtship.”

  I winced. “Oh, God. That’s embarrassing.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s weird that your mom knows we have sex!”

  “Well, considering I have a son, I’m pretty sure she already knows I have sex.”

  “I’m talking about me. You can do no wrong, you’re her son, but I don’t want her to think I’m promiscuous before she even meets me.”

  “But after she meets you, it’s OK?”

  I groaned. “No.”

  “Listen, stop worrying. She will love you when she meets you. Trust me.”

  I wondered when that would be. “OK.”

  “So let’s talk about your birthday. Can I pick you up a little early? Like around two?”

  “Uh, sure. What’s the plan?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Pack an overnight bag.”

  My heart pumped faster again, for a good reason this time. “OK. What should I wear?”

  “You always look gorgeous. Anything you want—but if it shows your legs or neck or shoulders, be warned I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

  I smiled. “Got it. I can’t wait.”

  On Friday morning, I treated myself to a massage and facial before heading home to shower and pack a bag for the night. I still had no idea where we were going or what we were doing, but I really didn’t care—I was happy that we’d finally have our night together. In the back of my mind was the fear that he’d get the call and have to go home, but there was no sense dwelling on that. Part of loving him was accepting that he was always a father first, and I could do that. It made having all his attention that much sweeter when I had it.

  The day was sunny but cool, so I dressed in fitted jeans, boots, and a slouchy sweater that Skylar had gotten me for Christmas last year. It was soft and cream-colored, and its draped cowl neck fell off one shoulder, which I thought Levi would like. Underneath it I wore a camisole but no bra, something I could do that my full-chested sisters could not. It was a small perk, and didn’t make up for being denied their luscious curves, but it was still a perk.

  In case I needed something dressier tonight, I threw a dress that packed well and a pair of heels into my bag, along with a deliciously sexy bra and panty set in a deep maroon color. For tomorrow, I put in another top I could wear with jeans, plus extra socks and underwear.

  Yes, I was a Girl Scout.

  Finally, I tossed in my hairbrush and makeup bag, making sure to double-check that I had my birth control pills inside it. While I was waiting for Levi’s knock, I wondered if Tara had been on the pill. He’d never said exactly how the pregnancy had happened. Natalie had gotten pregnant accidentally because she’d messed up taking her pills, so I knew it was possible. Was it something I could ask casually about? I wasn’t sure. He seemed open on the subject of his past, but I didn’t want him to think I was obsessing over it. Because I wasn’t.

  At five after two, I heard the knock and threw my bag over my shoulder.

  When I opened the door, the sight of him left me momentarily breathless. God, I loved that feeling. It was one of the best parts about falling in love.

  He wore jeans too, and a fitted dark blue button-down with a light brown jacket.

  “Hey, happy birthday.” He kissed me and caught me in his arms, lifting me right off my feet. “Mmmm, you even smell like a cake.”

  I smiled, burying my face in his neck. “Thanks.”

  “Can I have a piece?”

  “Now?” I laughed as he set me down.


  “I guess I could wait.” He sighed. “But it won’t be easy.” Picking up the bag I’d dropped at my feet, he took my hand and led me to the car. He opened the passenger door for me, then put the bag in the back. I took off my coat and tossed it into the back seat, and he did the same with his jacket before getting behind the wheel.

  “I’m so curious,” I said. “What are we doing?”

  He gave me a crooked smile and patted my knee. “It’s my sister who can’t keep secrets.”

  “You won’t even give me a clue?” I asked as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car.

  “Nope.” He backed out of the parking space and threw the car in drive. “But I will let you control the music.”

  I eyed the satellite radio panel. “Then I’m going to torture you the whole ride to wherever we’re going.”

  “With what?”

  “With 90s on 9.” I pressed a few buttons and turned it up. “And I hope it’s Spice Girls the entire time!”

  He groaned as I threw myself a little party in the front seat, dancing and singing like I was twelve years old again.

  When the song ended, I took pity on him and turned it down. “Still no clue?” We were headed south out of town; that was all I could tell.

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  I put my hand on his leg and slid it up his thigh. “Please?”

  He smiled but said nothing.

  I brushed my hand over the crotch of his jeans. “Pleeeeeeeease. I’ll be so nice to you while you’re driving.”

  He glanced at me. “How nice?”

  “So nice.” I stroked him a little harder through the denim, which was tight against the bulge in his pants.

  “Hmmmmm. This is a very tempting offer.”

  “Isn’t it? It will feel so good,” I cooed. “And it’s been so long—almost a whole week—since I’ve touched you like this.”

  He groaned. “Tell me about it.”

  “Did you have to do it yourself?” I asked, a lilt in my voice. I slipped the button of his jeans through the hole.

  He glanced at me and shook his head like he couldn’t believe me, a slow smile tipping his lips up. “You’re so bad.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah. I did. Every night.”