Chapter Twenty-Three
“Now that we’ve established the fact that you have a stalker and are putting both my child and my ex-husband in danger, thanks, I’m sure, to your brainless sister’s disastrous attempts at matchmaking,” Jen said with biting politeness, “how about you answer my original question?”
The first time I mentioned Lydia, Jen acted like she had no idea who I was talking about. I’d been too flustered to see it for an intentional dig at me and my sister at the time. Clearly, Jen remembered Lydia quite well, and it wasn’t just me she despised. It was also perfectly clear to me that Jen was still more concerned with whether or not her ex-husband had really and truly moved on without her than her son’s safety.
Holding onto my temper like it was a lifeline, I carefully sat down on the couch cattycorner to Jen and took a long, deep breath. “No,” I said, “Roman and I are not engaged.” I paused just long enough to see the corners of Jen’s mouth turn up. Then I added, “But we are living together.”
She snorted like what I’d said meant nothing, but her pinky finger was twitching. “So what if Roman wants to slum it for a while? Eventually, he’ll get tired of putting up with all your many mishaps and get bored of playing the hero when he realizes you’re not worth the effort. I can’t imagine that will take long.”
I’d never wanted to slap someone so badly in my entire life. Choosing not to react to what she’d said, I turned my focus back to the supposed reason for her visit. “I thought when Sammy said what he did, you were hurt because you might have thought he was replacing you. I was so upset with him for saying something hurtful. I tried to make him apologize to you.” I shook my head. “How could you be more concerned with who Roman is dating that the fact that your son doesn’t want you around him? I don’t understand that at all.”
Pure ice now, Jen crossed one leg over the other. “Maybe it’s because you have no talents or skills that provide you with any kind of ambition in life and validation from small children is the best you can hope for in the way of success.”
I was wrong before. Now I wanted to slap her more than I had ever wanted to inflict bodily harm on another human being. It was killing me not to tell her that I was half a semester away from a master’s degree in plant breeding and genetics—which was a very difficult discipline, if I did say so myself. I was dying to rub it in her face that my GPA was excellent and I’d paid for the majority of my schooling with scholarships and research grants. It was on the tip of my tongue that I already had three job offers from local companies when I graduated, and the department head told me that if I ever wanted to pursue a PhD he’d be more than happy to recommend me.
It wasn’t because I knew Jen wouldn’t care about any of my accomplishments that I didn’t say any of that. As much as I wanted to hate her, I thought I understood her just well enough that I couldn’t bring myself to despise her the way she did me.
“Jen, I really am sorry Sammy said all those things to you. He’s angry with you right now, but that’s still not an excuse for purposely trying to hurt you.” I paused when her expression changed from haughty to confused and a little wary. I could tell she was looking for my angle, my line of attack. I sighed. “I also realize that you’re still very much in love with Roman, and finding me here with them hasn’t been easy for you.”
Jen shook her head and pulled back from me. “I’m not…you only think you know me, or anything about me…Roman and I, we were…” Her breathing hitched, but she squelched any show of emotion like it was an ant. “Roman blames me for everything, but he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be.”
“I know he’s not perfect,” I said. “So does he. He accepts part of the blame for why you two divorced, but he done his best to raise Sammy and be a good father to him.”
“Of course he has,” Jen snapped. “Sammy was all he ever wanted. Even before he was born. Roman wanted children. Even though I told him when we were dating that I didn’t want kids, he kept pushing, kept bringing it up, talking about how great it would be, how a child would bring so much happiness into our home.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, though she was doing everything she could to keep them from falling. “I was already happy. We were already happy. I didn’t want things to change, but it wasn’t good enough for Roman. I wasn’t good enough. He had to have a baby, so I finally agreed, and when I got pregnant and Roman was so thrilled, I thought maybe he was right. Maybe a child would only add to our happiness.”
Even though nothing she was saying truly surprised me that much, I didn’t dare say a word to interrupt. Especially when Jen leveled a glare at me that could have frozen the blood in my veins.
“Roman was wrong. Having Sammy didn’t make us happier. I was miserable being cooped up at home while Roman was at work nonstop. When he was home, everything was about Sammy, like I barely even mattered to him anymore.” She shook her head, the motion sending an angry tear down her cheek. She swiped it away quickly and powered on to hide the slip of her control. “I tried, for as long as I could, but I had to get out. I missed working, traveling, performing. I missed that attention, yes, but not just because I wanted praise. I wanted someone to notice I existed again and care that I was talented and beautiful and had something to give to the world. I wanted to matter.”
Silence fell between us. There was a lot in what she’d just said. I understood much of what she’d felt and expressed. Some people find their happiness in family and home, and others found it through their talents and work. Who was I to say which one was better or right? While I thought it was horrible of Jen to leave her family like she did, and stay away from Sammy for so long, I sympathized with how unhappy she had been trying to play a role she had never wanted and felt suffocated by.
“Have you ever told Roman all of this?” I asked without even a hint of bite or judgment.
“He wouldn’t have listened,” she said, frustration lacing her words. “Roman had a recipe for a perfect life, and I was just supposed to just go along with it whether I wanted that same vision or not. Any time I tried to bring up going back to work or altering his plan, he got frustrated and blamed me for not wanting what he wanted.”
I felt like she was possibly painting herself more of a victim than she really was, but that might have been a little unkindness from earlier still lurking in the wings. Either way, that wasn’t really what I’d been asking her. “No, Jen, have you told him any of this recently?”
She huffed and turned her nose up at me. “When? After I saw he’d changed the guest room into an office? When I learned he was dating you? When he brought up altering the custody arrangement and threatening to take me court?” She rolled her eyes. “When was I supposed to have this discussion with him?”
“The office had nothing to do with me,” I said. I might have sounded a little defensive.
“So?” Jen snapped. “Do you want an award for only screwing up my life two out of three times?”
My patience was getting thinner by the second. “No, I’m just pointing out that Roman made the decision to turn the guest room into a home office long before we met. He was starting to accept that you would never be a part of their lives like he wanted long before he started thinking about dating again.”
“He did it so I wouldn’t be able to stay at the house when I came by to visit.” Her spiteful, nasty tone did a lot to detract from her prettiness. “He was being petty and—”
That was when I lost it. “You hadn’t been back for two years!” I shouted. “How was he supposed to know if you were ever planning to visit again? He turned the guest room into an office so he could work from home more often and be with Sammy! I honestly doubt the decision had a damn thing to do with you, Jen. You are so self-centered and wrapped up in your own drama, you completely missed what was right in front of you for the last five years.”
“You think you know anything about my marriage?” Jen scoffed, her knuckles paling as she clenched her handbag.
“I know Roman wa
s devastated when you left, and he granted you open visitation with Sammy hoping you’d eventually realize what you were missing out on and come back. I know he didn’t file for divorce because he hated you or stopped loving you.”
Frustration burned through me, not just because Jen got under my skin, but because I was sitting here telling my boyfriend’s ex-wife how much he loved her and wanted her to stay after she’d left. I didn’t even understand why I was doing it. Part of me said I should have just thrown her out and let Roman deal with her theatrics. The look on her face when she thought Roman and I were engaged ate at me, though. It was so similar to the one she was wearing now, I bit back my anger and waited for her to say something.
“Why did he…file for divorce?” Jen asked quietly.
Sighing, I wanted to shake my head at this entire conversation. Why was she just now asking that question, five years after the fact? And why was she asking me instead of Roman? “He was trying to protect Sammy,” I said. “It killed him to have Sammy ask when you were coming home and seeing how hurt he was when he told him he didn’t know, or you didn’t show when you were supposed to.”
Jen’s expression slipped into a sneer. “Of course it was all about Sammy.”
“Stop it,” I snapped. “Stop blaming Sammy for you and Roman divorcing. It wasn’t his fault, and you know that. Roman didn’t love Sammy more than he loved you, but he did choose to protect him over letting you break his son’s heart over and over again. Sammy was a baby when you left, but it still devastated him to lose you, Jen. It hurt both of them, and yes, Roman chose to protect an innocent little boy over staying married to you, not because he didn’t love you enough, but because he realized you two wanted different kinds of lives.”
“I told Roman,” Jen said, tears pooling in her eyes. “I told him I didn’t want kids from the beginning.”
“I know. He does too, believe me. You have no idea how much guilt he carries around over trying to push you into what he wanted.” I glanced back at the hallway, worried about Sammy and wanting to check on him. Eager to wrap this conversation up, I turned back to Jen. “Look, I think you two need to sit down and have a real conversation about all of this. Not a fight, but really talk to each other.”
Blinking red-rimmed eyes, Jen looked away. “It won’t change anything. Roman doesn’t love me anymore, and my feelings for him won’t change that.”
“No,” I agreed, “but it can help you both, and Sammy, move on from here.”
“Move on to what?” she demanded.
“To finding happiness with someone else, and hopefully to having some kind of real relationship with your son.” I shrugged, because that would be what most people would want in this situation, but with Jen I really didn’t know. She had been clinging to Roman since she left, but did she really not want to be a part of Sammy’s life at all?
Slowly, Jen’s hostility came down a few notches. “Would you really be in favor of me seeing Sammy?”
As much as I sometimes wished Jen would fall into a bottomless pit, I had to put Sammy first. “Of course I would, Jen. You’re his mom.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what it feels like to lose a parent. I lost my mom when I was around Sammy’s age, and my dad when I was eighteen. Family is important, and even if being here for the day to day stuff isn’t what you want, you could still be a part of his life,” I said.
Jen shook her head. “He hates me.”
“He’s angry with you,” I corrected. “And scared of things changing again. Give him time. He wants you in his life. He just doesn’t know how to deal with the hurt he feels about you leaving and staying away so much.”
Thoughtful, Jen didn’t look completely convinced, but she wasn’t yelling or hurling insults anymore, so I figured maybe I’d gotten through at least on some level. Her fingers were no longer strangling the handles of her purse when she stood. “Will you please have Roman call me when he gets home? We do need to talk before I leave.”
“Sure,” I said. I hesitated, wanting to hurry her along despite the fact that we were ending things better than they had started. “Would you like to tell Sammy goodbye? I won’t ask him to apologize again right now, but it might be a step in the right direction.”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
She waited there by the door while I headed for Sammy’s room. Knowing he still might be upset with me, I eased the door open slowly and peered into his room. When I didn’t see him anywhere, I went to his bed and knelt down beside it. Expecting to find him huddled under the bed with a book, I started to panic just a little when I found nothing but toys and shoes. Stumbling back up to my feet, I went to the closet, the bathroom, anywhere I could think of to find him…and came up empty.
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 28