I shower and shave, then dress in pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. I fucking hate getting dressed up, but I know if I show up in a t-shirt and jeans he’ll spend ten minutes berating me on my clothes. I’d rather skip that conversation and jump straight into it.
I find it strange that of all the places we could meet for lunch he had to choose where I work, but I guess it could be worse. At least I know the place so I’ll feel more comfortable, maybe that was his plan, but I can’t imagine him thinking about my feelings when it comes to anything.
I shrug into my coat and grab my keys, heading out the door.
The moment I step outside a heavy weight settles on my chest. It happens every time I have to see him.
I choose to walk, even though it’s freezing. I grab a cigarette and tap one out, lighting it. I haven’t smoked in a couple of weeks, I think, but suddenly, I need a cigarette more than anything.
I inhale the smoke and let it fill my lungs before breathing out.
By the time the cigarette is a small nub, I’ve reached the restaurant.
I drop the cigarette on the ground and extinguish it then head across the street and in the W.T.F.
I can’t help but smile, wondering what my father thought of the name and logo with the whacky looking fork. He probably wasn’t as amused as I am.
“You’re not supposed to work until tonight,” Eli says when I come in.
“I’m meeting someone,” I tell him.
“Oh. My bad.” He turns his attention back to the pile of papers at the table he occupies.
I head through the restaurant, scanning the tables. I’m early, but my Dad has probably been here for thirty minutes.
Sure enough, I find him at a table in the back, off to himself.
I’m sure he asked to be seated away from everyone.
“Hello, father,” I say formally, removing my coat and draping it over the back of my chair.
He watches my movements, probably looking for anything I do wrong.
I slide into the chair across from him.
“Where’s your girlfriend? I assumed you’d bring her, since I requested her presence at our dinner we never had.”
“Leave Nova out of this,” I hiss. “I don’t know why the fuck you want me here, but leave me out of it. You lost the right to speak with her when you pried into her personal business.”
He huffs and unbuttons his suit jacket, lacing his fingers on the table. “I make it a point to check into anyone you’re involved with.”
“I’ve never dated anyone before,” I remind him.
“Yes—” his lips twitch “—but you have gone on dates, and you do have friends.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap. “You’ve checked into my friends too?”
He smiles like the cat that ate the canary. “I make it a point to know about anything that might come back on me. I’m sure I knew about your friends’ Vegas wedding before you did.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps. “Surely even you can understand why I have to do it.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I respond, half-tempted to leave. The only thing that keeps me from leaving is the fact that I know if I do I’m probably going to have to deal with more of his relentless calls.
“I’m sorry to interrupt—can I get you guys a drink? If you’re ready to order I’ll get that too while I’m here,” the waitress points to our closed menus.
“Hi, Kelly.” I smile at the waitress. She’s not one I work with often since I usually work nights, but she’s always been nice in passing. “I’ll just have a water and a cheeseburger.”
“Of course.” She takes my menu. “And for you, sir?” She turns to my father.
“I’ll have a water as well and the sirloin.”
“I’ll bring your drinks right out and put your order in.” She smiles pleasantly and heads for the kitchen.
I sigh and look across the table at my dad. My leg bounces restlessly with nervousness.
We stare at each other—father and son by blood, strangers in reality.
A minute ticks by, and when he doesn’t say anything, I brush an invisible crumb off the table.
“Tell me why we’re here. I figured after the way things ended on New Year’s Eve that it’d be a whole year before I heard from you. If that.” I level him with a glare. “And yet you’ve called every fucking day—so get to the point.”
“I have cancer.” My blood runs cold. It hasn’t been that long since I heard those words pertaining to my mom. “It’s terminal.”
I blink at him, at a loss for words. “I … What?”
He wets his lips. “It’s pancreatic cancer. They say there’s nothing they can do.”
I don’t feel a lot of love when it comes to my father, but he’s still my dad, and he’s always been there. Even if I fucking hated that fact I knew if I really needed something I could go to him—albeit with my tail tucked between my legs.
“But you look fine,” I say, still stunned.
He gives me a sad look. “Do I? Look closely, Jacen.”
I never noticed it before but his cheeks have become sallow and his eyes have dark circles beneath them. His shoulders are hunched, which wouldn’t be such a big deal for some people but he’s always been a stickler on posture, now it’s almost like he’s grown too weak told his body up.
“H-How long?” I stutter out and force a weak smile when Kelly brings out waters. “How long do you have left?”
“That’s why I wanted to see you …” He pauses, touching his fingers to his lips. “It’s a funny thing, coming to terms with your own lack of invincibility when you’ve spent your whole life projecting that you’re untouchable.”
“How long?” I ask again.
“Two weeks,” he answers with a sad smile. “A month tops, but the doctors aren’t optimistic.”
I feel stunned.
Gutted.
This wasn’t what I was expecting.
“I know I haven’t always been the best father, or husband to your mother, and you might not believe me, but that’s something I regret. You won’t remember much about your grandfather—the one you’re named after—but he wasn’t a very good man, either. Workaholic and violent. He spent the majority of his time drunk. I guess growing up in that rubbed off on me. I didn’t know any other way to be a man. I know it’s not an excuse, but I want to help you understand.” He crosses his fingers together and lays them on the table, leaning forward. “Everything I own is being left to you. You’ll be well taken care of—won’t have to work, if you don’t want to.”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish. I feel lost. Nothing makes sense.
“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I know I just sprung this on you. I guess there’s no good way to say I’m dying.”
“No, there’s not,” I agree.
I can’t wrap my head around how calm he is. I guess he’s had time to accept his inevitable death while I’ve only had moments. If I was him I’d be angry, and throwing shit, and probably yelling at the top of my lungs about how unfair it was. But I guess when you have something worth living for that’s your reaction.
My dad?
He has nothing.
Our food is brought out, but I can’t even look at it.
“I don’t expect you to miss me,” he says, cutting into his steak. “I don’t have that right after the way I’ve treated you. All I ask is …” he pauses, gathering a breath. “Just please come to my funeral.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I feel like crying for some strange reason. I think the little boy in me is mourning what could have been if my dad had been different.
“I’ll be there,” I finally say when I can find my voice.
This lunch didn’t go at all how I’d planned. I’d honestly thought we’d get into a fight and I was going to tell him I was done, that I couldn’t fucking do this anymore.
Little did I know that fate had alr
eady decided that fact for me.
In a couple of weeks, my dad will be dead.
He’ll simply cease to exist.
Nothing more than a memory.
That’s all that’s ever truly left of any of us—a memory—so, I guess you better make sure they’re all good ones.
“How’d it go?” Nova asks before she even takes her coat off.
I set my book down and stretch my arm over the back of the couch. “It was … unexpected.”
“Elaborate.” She unties her scarf and hangs it up with her coat. She looks cute with her chilled red nose and a floppy gray beanie and mittens. She takes those off and drops them in the basket by the door.
“He has cancer.”
Her mouth pops open—my reaction exactly. “What?”
“He only has a couple more weeks to live.”
“Oh, my God. Are you okay?” She rushes to me and jumps onto the couch beside me.
I nod. “Yeah, I am. We talked for a while … It was the longest I think we’ve ever talked without fighting. Is it strange to say it was nice?”
“Not at all—he is your dad. Even though he’s an asshole I think it’s understandable for you to crave some sort of bond and acceptance from him. I can’t believe he’s dying.”
“Yeah, and soon too.” I laugh but there’s no humor in the tone. “He says he has two weeks, a month tops, to live.”
“Wow.” Nova looks at me with wide, worried eyes. She touches her hand to mine, and I wrap my fingers around hers. My hand swallows hers whole. “I hate to say this, but do you think maybe he’s lying?”
I shake my head. “’Fraid not. It’s definitely the truth.”
“I’m sorry.” She wraps her arms around me and I let her hug me.
“Thanks.”
“If you need to talk about it, I’m here, you know that, right?”
“I do.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, purposely skimming my fingers over her cheek. “Have you heard from Sarah?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. The last couple of hours my mind has only been occupied with thoughts of my father’s impending death. I need something else to focus on.
“I have, actually,” she beams, so I know it must be good news. “We’re meeting next weekend at a local ice-skating rink. You’ll come with me, right?”
“If you want me to.”
“I definitely want you to.” She nods. “I need you there to keep me from freaking out.”
“Then I’ll be there.” I lean over and kiss her, my lips lingering a little longer than necessary.
All afternoon while I sat with my dad, I wished she was there, because her presence alone gives me strength.
It’s funny, because I used to think love makes you weak. Now I realize it’s the complete opposite.
Because of her, I’m stronger than ever before.
Because of her, I’m happy.
Because of her, I’m a better man.
So, life can throw whatever it wants at me—the good, bad, and the fucking ugly—because I’m ready.
Nova
I’ve probably driven Jace insane for the entire week leading up to this moment.
The moment where I finally, after four years, get to hold my son.
“Does this look okay?” I ask Jace.
“What the fuck?” His head whips up so fast from his journal that I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t have whiplash. “Are you wearing pink? I didn’t even know you owned something pink.”
“I borrowed it from Thea,” I mumble, ducking my head. “I wanted to look nice and I asked her if she could help me and she gave me this.”
“You don’t look like you.”
“Jace,” I whine. “I need to make a good impression with them so they’ll let me see him again.”
His brows draw together. “You might as well wear a fucking dress then.”
I huff. “You can’t say fuck every other word with them, either.”
He raises his hands innocently. “I’ll be good, promise.”
“Does it really look bad?” I ask, now doubting the flowing pink top.
He shrugs, his shirt stretching taut over his muscles. “No, it doesn’t look bad. You just don’t look like you. Don’t you think that’s important?”
“So, I should put my hair in a messy bun and wear my shirt that says Adios Bitchachos? I’m sure that’ll go over real well.”
“Well, maybe not that particular shirt.” He snaps his fingers together. “What about the one that says, All I care about is pizza (and like two people). That one is great.”
“I can’t wear one of those.” I sigh from the doorway. “They’ll think I’m insane. I’ll find something else. I’m sure I have something that will work.”
I take off the shirt from Thea and begin rummaging through my closet again.
I can’t remember a time when I’ve cared so much about what I look like.
After thirty minutes of rummaging through my closet I finally settle on a gray sweater and jeans. It’s not the nicest thing, sure, but it’s simple and it’s me. I think Jace is right, I have to stay true to myself. I can’t portray myself as someone I’m not.
“Are you ready?” Jace calls as I’m putting my boots on. “We needed to go like five minutes ago.”
I bust out of the room. “I’m ready.”
He grins when he sees me. “That’s my Nova.”
“I feel like I might be sick,” I tell him, my stomach suddenly clenching.
He shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. You’re stressing too much.”
I take a deep breath. “This is scary.”
He crosses the room to me and takes my face between his hands. “I’m going to be there the whole time. If it starts to be too much, just look at me and find your center.”
I smile up at him. “I love you.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m fucking grateful for it. I love you too.” He kisses me quickly and then grabs the keys from the counter. “We have to go, like now.”
I know he’s right. We’re already running late, and I wanted to be there early so I could have a moment to prepare myself.
I grab my coat and put it on.
He already has his on so he waits by the door.
I rush past him once I have my coat on and he locks up behind us.
As we ride in the elevator, I type the address of the ice rink into my phone.
“It’s twenty-five minutes from here. Think you can make it twenty?”
He smiles crookedly. “I can do anything.”
Jace parks outside the ice rink—managing to make it there in nineteen minutes.
“Ready?” he asks, shutting the truck off.
I shake my head, panic seizing my chest. “I can’t do this. I can’t face him. I … I abandoned him. I just gave him up.”
“Shh,” he hushes me. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t do that to yourself. You were fifteen. You did what you had to do. You giving up that baby might’ve been the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but I promise you it was the best thing for him. That right there proves to me that you’re a good mom—because you cared more about his wellbeing than your own happiness.”
My chin quivers. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“Fuck,” he chokes. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
I take a couple of deep breaths and nod. “Okay, let’s go in. I can do this.”
He gets out of the truck, and I follow a moment later. He comes around to me and takes my hand. I instantly feel better.
We head inside together and rent some skates.
Sarah says Greyson loves to ice-skate and he says he’s going to be a professional hockey player one day. I love that he’s only four and already dreaming so big.
Jace and I head into the rink and sit down to put our skates on.
“Do you see them?” I ask, scanning the people there.
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t think they’re here yet.”
I breath
e out, the breath shaky. I’ve never felt this nervous in my whole life, not even when I was waiting for the pregnancy test to turn positive.
Jace rubs his hand over my back, trying his best to calm me.
“What if they don’t come?” I glance sideways at him.
That’s when I see him.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp, tears springing to my eyes.
“Hello—Novalee, right?” Sarah and her husband appear with a little boy between them.
My little boy.
“Just Nova,” I say, standing up. “Hi.”
“Can I hug you?” she asks.
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Um, yeah,” I say, opening my arms.
She hugs me tight, like a mother squeezing her child. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. “Thank you for giving me the best gift you could ever give me.”
She lets me go and I find that there are tears in her eyes too.
“This is my husband Jimmy. And this is Greyson.” She squeezes the little boy’s shoulder lightly. He clutches a Ziploc baggie full of goldfish to his chest.
My heart … My heart feels full, like after four years it’s finally found the piece it’s been missing.
The picture I saw on the computer doesn’t do him justice.
He’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.
His dark hair flops over his forehead and he looks up at me with wide doe-like brown eyes. His lips are full and the smattering of freckles across his nose only makes him more adorable. I couldn’t see it in the picture, but in person he even has a tiny mole on his top lip like Owen has.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper.
“Greyson—” Sarah smiles down at him “—this is your Angel Mommy that we’re always telling you about. She’s the one that carried you inside her, and then she gave you to Mommy and Daddy to take care of because she knew you were a very special little boy and she thought we could help her with you. Isn’t that amazing? You’re so special you get two sets of parents.”
I feel Jace stand behind me, his presence filling me with warmth.
I drop down to my knees so I’m at Greyson’s height. “Hi,” I say. I realize it lacks originality but I can’t seem to think beyond that.
“Hi,” he says back, bashfully cowering closer to his mom.
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