by L. B. Dunbar
“And you’re not bitter,” I sarcastically tease, although I’m being harsh. No one wants to be cheated on.
“I’m not. Not really. It’s hard to be bitter about her because then I’d have to say I had feelings for her, which I didn’t. I’m only bitter that I lost out on time and love with someone else.”
“Really? Is it too late to fall in love? You’re only . . . forty, if that.”
“I’m forty-one now.”
“Thirty-eight,” I say, pointing at myself. “And I’m not a mom.” I tip an eyebrow to suggest I’m jesting. The statement reminds us both of what I had to explain to the boys yesterday. “But I’m still holding out hope for one day.” I refuse to believe I’ll never find love or have children of my own. It’s just taking me longer than the average person.
“I’m sorry about what Oliver said. He shouldn’t have said that.”
“He shouldn’t have told me I should be a mom?” I ask to clarify.
“It was rude.”
I huff. “I’m flattered that he thinks I’d do a decent job of it.” I am honored. Not everyone is worthy of the title mother, and I’m thrilled Oliver sees the potential in me to be one.
“And then Trevor asking you to be his mom.” Zack closes his eyes and swipes a hand through his hair. “It nearly broke my heart.”
I bump his shoulder. “Well, I’m flattered again that I could be his, according to him. I’m sorry about their mother, though. I don’t understand. Does she not see them?” It’s invasive to ask, but I’m invested in these boys. I want to know about them.
“She has supervised visitation.”
“Supervised? That sounds extreme.” My first thought is she physically hurt them. As a trained mandate reporter, I’m grateful I’ve never had to suspect parents of abusing their child. The bruises I see on a kid come from blood draws and repeated punctures from needles, ports, and tubes.
“I didn’t trust her not to use them against me. I had a great divorce attorney who knew how to negotiate. I wasn’t willing to compromise when it came to them.”
His protective tone is surprising but welcome. He’d fight to the end for his boys, and I’m happy to hear it in his voice. I glance over at the boys. Oliver has returned to the fort and holds the telescope while Trevor swipes the plastic sword at something imaginary within the fort.
“What did she do to them?” I whisper.
“She didn’t love them. I have no forgiveness for that.” His voice turns colder, edged in ice, and I twist my neck to look at him. The Zack of our first meeting has returned. His jaw clenches, and his expression hardens. His eyes crackle instead of sparkle.
“And you do?” A lump forms in my throat, and I find myself holding my breath for his answer.
“Of course, I do.” He nods in confidence without looking at me. “They might be hellions, but they’re my hellions. As their father, I will not abandon them.” His tenacious tone should be a comfort, but there’s something laced beneath the sound that raises the hairs on my neck.
“Do they know you love them?”
“I . . .” He can’t answer, and the thought makes me sad.
What did your father do to you? It’s the only explanation I have for the questioning glare and tight jaw. Was his father as standoffish as he is? Or did his father abandon him like his wife did their boys? I turn back toward the boys, and we watch them in silence for a minute.
“I didn’t know my own father.” I shrug, opening up to this man I hardly know. “I’m not bitter about it. Can’t miss what you didn’t have, but I had the best grandfather. He was all the dad figure I needed.” I wasn’t bitter about my own absent father. My grandfather meant the world to me. He wasn’t a substitute but the real deal as far as I was concerned. My only regret is he passed too soon. I could use his sage advice and encouraging quips from time to time as I age. He’d have a lot to say about Zack Weller and his sons.
“I’m sorry.” Zack turns to me, his eyes roaming my face.
“Don’t be.” I weakly smile. “Grandpa always said a man is only worthy of what he can give, not receive. My dad didn’t want me. Grandpa considered him unworthy to be my father, so he filled the position instead.”
Zack continues to stare at me. “He sounds like a wise man.” His slow-growing grin does funny things to my insides, and I realize my grandfather would have wanted to hug Zack and slap him on the back of the head in equal portions. He would have told him in no uncertain terms to get his shit together. Those boys need you. I can hear the declaration in Grandfather’s voice. He was such a feisty man, and I loved the stuffing out of him.
“Unfortunately, he passed when I was a teenager.” I glance over at the boys, feeling Zack’s eyes still on the side of my face. “Cancer.” One word explains it all.
“That’s why you’re a nurse.”
“That’s why I’m a nurse,” I confirm, turning back to him.
“What about other family?” He swallows around the question, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob.
“My mother was a single parent for most of my younger life. Then she met Cecil when I was a teenager. They married right after I left for college. They live in Florida, and I see them once a year.” Cecil is a decent man, but we didn’t exactly mesh. He wasn’t a father figure but more of the man in my mother’s life. I don’t resent him because my mother deserves happiness. She found love later in life. I only hope it will happen for me one day.
Mom had been distrustful of people. She’d been hurt by my father, a man I never met. On the other hand, I was trusting up front and learned my lesson later. I wanted to have faith in people. A kind heart lives longer, Grandpa said. Beats better. He’d tap two fingers over his chest and pat them in a rhythm to mimic a strong heartbeat. When he died, I disagreed for a while. It seemed only the good died young and left us too soon, but later, I understood. Those who are kind live on in our hearts. We never forget a good deed.
Eventually, the boys both come down from the fort and approach the lounger.
“How goes the maiden voyage?” I call out.
“Maiden? This isn’t a girl thing,” Trevor scoffs. He plops down on the end of the lounger, keeping his back to us while Oliver stands beside me.
“What’s a voyeur?” Oliver asks.
Zack chokes on air, and I correct Oliver while I circle his little wrist with my hand. “Voyage. It’s taking a trip or having an adventure. A maiden voyage is the first journey a ship makes.”
“It’s not a ship.” Trevor corrects me, glancing over his shoulder.
“But you’re pirates?” That’s what they said they wanted to be. However, a child’s mind can change daily. Some of my patients are princesses one day and evil witches the next. We remind them either way, cancer is the dragon that needs to be slain.
“It’s a fort that we captured,” Oliver explains. “Now, we need to protect it.”
“Aye. And did ye find the buried treasure, argh?”
“There isn’t buried treasure.” Trevor’s sullen tone punctuates the air.
“Trevor,” Zack warns beside me as he senses his son on the verge of being rude.
“Are you sure?” I sing-song the question, tipping up a brow.
Oliver’s expression mimics mine. One brow arches as he sing-songs in response. “Is there?”
“Have you looked?” My voice drags again, hinting the boys should.
“We’ve been looking through the telescope for hours.” Trevor pouts, looking every bit like his father but not pulling off the cuteness his dad does. He crosses his lanky arms and huffs.
“I don’t think it’s been hours,” Zack mutters, sounding a little testy himself. I reach out for his forearm and hold my hand there.
“Sometimes, a treasure can be right under your nose. You might not need a telescope to find it.”
“Is there buried treasure?” Oliver’s little voice rises with excitement.
“I’m not sure.” I tap my chin. “Maybe search the yard.”
; I sense Zack’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. Trevor has swiveled at the end of the lounger, and I stare back at him.
“What did you do?” Zack teasingly hisses beside me.
“Is there a map?” Trevor questions, finally falling in line.
“No map. You must use instinct.” I point at my head. “And smarts.”
Oliver speaks first. “I’m smart.”
“You are not. I’m the smarter one,” Trevor snaps.
“Hey,” Zack barks, startling all of us. “What have I told you about insulting your brother?”
“Someday, he might be the only person I have.”
It’s my turn to peer at Zack, surprised by the advice he’s given a child.
“My brother is my best friend. I forgive him anything,” Oliver adds as if this lesson has been imparted on them repeatedly. Silence falls for a second. I have so many questions but decide now is not the time to ask.
“Okay, treasure hunting. You don’t need to dig, but you do need to search. The yard is the boundary. Do not go into the street. Do not climb the fence. An X marks the spot, but you must look carefully for it.” I wink at Oliver before gazing at Trevor.
“Agreed?” I question. “Give me your best argh if you do.”
“Argh,” Trevor grumbles.
“Aye aye, Captain.” Oliver salutes me and steps over to Trevor. He taps his brother’s shoulder. “Race ya.”
The two take off for the front of the house, and I turn to Zack. “Do you have a brother?”
“I do. One older one.” He meets my gaze.
“And he’s your best friend, forgiving you everything?”
“My best friends are my brothers from another mother who forgave me for anything. That’s what I want Oliver and Trevor to understand. They’re twins. Their bond is unique.”
I stare at him as he stares back at me. “Who hurt you?” I whisper. It’s not his ex-wife. He’s repeatedly said he didn’t love her.
“No one,” he mutters, turning his attention to the distant lake. He owes me his story about the house, but I decide not to press. My hand remains on his forearm, and I stroke his warm skin. Zack glances down at my touch, staring at my fingers tickling the length of his arm. He reaches for my hand, lifts it, and presses his lips to my knuckles, lingering there while he closes his eyes.
“You’re one of a kind, River Nagle,” he says for some reason.
“Don’t you forget it,” I tease.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.” He speaks against my knuckles before turning to face me and reaching for my face. He tugs me to him for a hard kiss, sharp with tongue and ending with a light nip to my lower lip. It’s over too quickly and thankfully before the boys round the house again.
“Dad, we can’t find it.”
“Keep looking,” he says, holding his eyes on mine.
“Why don’t you go help them?” I encourage. It won’t take long with adult eyes.
“I’m afraid you’ll disappear.” The statement surprises me, but whatever his meaning, his eyes quickly shutter back to their protective shield. He releases me and stands without clarifying why he’d say what he said.
“Zack,” I call out. “Sometimes, the treasure you seek is right before you. That’s my hint to the boys.”
But perhaps, it’s a hint for him as well.
13
[Zack]
We found the small treasure chest—literally about the size of my fist—with two pieces of candy and two five-dollar bills inside. Mason was right; River was going to turn Trevor and Oliver into spoiled monsters.
With a little prompting, the boys rushed to River to thank her for their find. It had taken a while to discover the placement, which was under the base of the tree fort. The boys had to look up, not down, for her gift, and it was a reminder of what she’d said. Sometimes the treasure you seek is before you.
I didn’t miss the analogy. She was a treasure, and I see her plain as day. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what I’d do about her. I was leaving in another week. Logan had done the long-distance thing with Autumn for a while until he got his head out of his ass and realized he couldn’t live without her, but this was different. I was enjoying River, sure. I liked how she was with my boys and me, but my little unit of three had a long road before us.
Our maiden voyage continued, free of maidens.
A brand-new nanny was lined up to start upon our return home. I’d spoken with my law partners and requested some additional time off for the adjustment, requiring a little less time in the office. I’d make up the work from home. I already started working from home long before I went into the office in the mornings and late into the evenings after I returned home. A shift to dedicate hours at home wouldn’t be difficult. I’d accepted I needed to reinvest myself in the boys. The divorce had been nasty. Then with Ben’s illness and subsequent death, the past twelve months had felt like a chaotic spiral.
River’s sudden presence kept up the spinning effect.
“Who’s hungry?” River asks after the boys express their gratitude.
“Me,” they say in unison, raising both their hands.
River lays out an extensive menu of options before the boys decide on macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say as she stands from the lounger.
“If I don’t make the food for them, I’ll be the one to eat it all.” She pats her stomach, which shows no sign of excessively eating frozen fried foods or cheese-laden pasta.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” She leaves me in her yard with my boys, who settle down for what I know will be only a short respite. After lunch, they’ll wind up and want the next adventure.
“Can River be our mom?” Oliver asks, climbing up next to me on the chaise.
Oh boy. “It’s not that simple, little man.” I tug him over my lap, and he plays with the collar of my T-shirt.
Trevor climbs up next and sits beside me. “Why not?”
“Because moms and dads need to fall in love. Then a dad asks a mom to marry him.” I don’t go into the whole explanation of how falling in love usually happens before you are a dad or mom. We’ll get to that conversation later. Hopefully, years later where I’ll be emphasizing abstinence and condoms.
“Were you and Mom in love?”
We’ve had this conversation before, and I always tread lightly around it. Lawyers shouldn’t lie, River said, and I don’t want to mislead my boys.
“Sometimes moms and dads fall out of love. That doesn’t mean they don’t love their kids. They just don’t love each other like they once did.” It’s the best explanation I can give because I don’t want to tell them how too much scotch and a reckless night led to their conception. Or how I married Jeanine with nothing more than feelings of friendship. I quickly learned we couldn’t even be friends. I’m surprised we remained married as long as we did.
“So you fall in love with River and ask her to marry you,” Oliver states as if it’s that simple.
“But River isn’t a mom, so Dad can’t marry her. He needs to find someone who is a mom.”
Oh man, I didn’t expect him to take my explanation so literal.
“Guys. Dad isn’t falling in love with any other mom, and he isn’t in love with River.”
Something clatters behind us, and we all turn to see River standing outside the sliding glass door.
“Was just bringing out the plates and forks when I dropped one,” she explains, not looking up at us as she bends for the utensil.
“Let me help you,” I say, shifting Oliver off me and rolling from the chaise.
“No,” she says too quickly, sounding a tad out of breath. “No. I’ve got it.” She holds up a fist full of forks to stop me before setting everything on a four-person, glass-topped table.
“River?” I question, lowering my voice as I step toward her, but she waves a hand to dismiss me. Abruptly, she turns for the house, giving me her back and slipping inside. A funny feeling fil
ls my belly, and it isn’t pleasant.
River keeps up a steady stream of conversation when lunch is served, chatting with the boys about their favorite things. Television shows and movies. Books and video games. She doesn’t look up at me but smiles at them while they eat. She isn’t eating macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets after all, and I feel guilty when I do, but I’m starving.
“Let me help you clean up,” I say once the boys are done and asking if they can go play.
“I’ve got it. You enjoy them.” She nods at my sons.
“I was thinking of taking them down to the beach. We’ve encroached on your yard long enough.”
River nods. Giving me a weak smile and a tight voice, she says, “Sounds fun.”
“Come with us.” I reach for her arm while she holds dirty plates.
“This is your time with them.” Her eyes avoid mine.
“You offered me a day with them and you.” I pout, but she isn’t looking at me. River bitterly chuckles while shaking her head. I don’t understand the dry laughter.
“Like you said, I’m bad at negotiating.”
“Let’s re-evaluate terms,” I suggest, continuing to hold her arm, afraid to release her. “A day at the beach. Then later, I’ll tell you everything. The house. The person.”
“The person?” she questions. Her piercing gaze finally returns to my face.
Swallowing around a lump in my throat, I reply, “The one who hurt me.”
“Zack, you don’t need to do this.” Her lips purse, suddenly brushing off her request to know my story. “You don’t owe me anything. You’re not indebted to me. It’s been my pleasure to feed your boys, give them a treasure to hunt, and allow you to fix that old tree fort. It’s nothing. Really.”
“Really? Because that seems like a lot to me, and I want to repay you.”
Her eyes narrow at the comment, and her back stiffens. “I do not need payment for being kind.” Her tone turns sharper than I’ve ever heard.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” I defend, taken aback by her tone.