“Stopit, Dad. You know what I mean,” she grumbled, nuzzling her cheek against Alex’shead. “I love him.”
“Lookslike the feeling is mutual,” I laughed, smiling as I took out my phone to snapa few pictures of the two of them together.
Hannahlooked up, spotting the phone in my hand, and demanded we all get a picturetogether. I imagined the way I looked, knowing it had been days since I hadtaken any time for self-care, and insisted we didn’t need to. But Goose tookthe phone from me and demanded I sit, as he took a seat on the other side ofhis daughter. He held the phone out, got us all into the shot, and snapped thepicture. When he handed the phone back to me, I looked at the image ofus—Goose, his daughter, my son, and me—and it struck me with startling claritythat we looked so distinctly like a family.
AndI was leaving.
Notwanting to walk away from Alex but also needing a moment to collect myfeelings, I excused myself for a second and hurried into Goose’s room. Andthere, beside his bed, was a bassinet.
“Hey,are you—” Goose’s words were cut short as he entered the room and saw the spotmy eyes had fixed upon. Then, he said, “I wanted him to have a place to sleepwhen you’re here. If you wanted to bring him, I mean.”
Ididn’t know what to say, as I stood and stared at the little bed, wooden with asmall blue and white striped blanket draped over one side. Tears were frozen inmy eyes, as I clenched my fingers together and struggled to string together thewords I needed for this moment.
“Obviously,you probably won’t be here any time soon,” Goose went on, walking past me intothe room to pick up the blanket and smoothed it out against his plaidbutton-down. “But I just figured, if you wanted to, he’d have his own bed.”
Ionly swallowed in reply, and when he realized I wasn’t going to speak, hecontinued. “Hannah picked this out withKrys.There’s, uh,” he laid the blanket back in the bassinet and hurried to hisdresser, “there’s some clothes and diapers in here, too. It’s not much, and Iknow he’ll have his own stuff at your parents’ house, and I’m sure you’ll bemore comfortable there, anyway, but—”
“Idon’t want to go,” I blurted out, cutting his words off and startling him.
“What?”
Ishook my head, still wringing my hands. “I-I don’t want to go to their house.”Then, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head, I added, “I mean, I do. Iwant to see them. But I don’t want tolivethere.”
“Okay,”he replied slowly, closing the dresser drawer. “So, then what do you want todo?”
Iwalked across the room to the bassinet and laid my hand against the solid woodrailing. It was a beautiful, sturdy piece of furniture, and I knew I loved itmore than anything I would have at my parents’ house on Long Island. Becausethis, right here, was my son’s first bed, and it was given to me by the man whowas everything Alex’s father never could be.
“Kenny?”
“Ilove this bed,” I said, running my hand along its side.
Goosecame to stand beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Uh … yeah, it wasHannah’s. My dad had built it for her before she was born.”
“Wow,”I replied, realizing that this wasn’t just a beautiful piece of furniture but asentimental part of this family. “That’s … that’s so special.”
“Yeah,”Goose said, nodding. “Honestly, I thought the next babies to use it would be mygrandkids, but …”
“Oh,I don’t need to use it. I can—”
“No,”he said hurriedly. “No, I want Alex to use it. This is better than waitingfifty years for my grandkids to come around, you know? This is … this is good.But, um …” Hemovingcautiously forward, eyeing mewith question. “What do you mean, you don’t want to go?”
Takinga deep breath and committing to the decision I was about to make, I said, “Iwanted you the minute I walked into your bar. Have I ever told you that?”
Hebarely chuckled as he shook his head. “No. You never mentioned that.”
“Well,I did. I liked you immediately, and I felt so guilty about that,” I said,remembering how much better and comfortable he had made me feel that day, afterjust confirming that I was pregnant.
“Iliked you, too,” he confessed quietly.
“Andthe thing was, it waswrongto like you,” I went on, keeping my hand onthe bassinet. “It was wrong the way you laughed at my jokes and made me feelwanted and … all this shit that Brendan should’ve been doing all along butnever did.”
Goosetook a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Yeah, okay, but Idon’t understand what that has to do with right now.”
Sighingin an irritated sort of way, I turned to face him. “What I’m saying is, evenwhile it was kind of wrong then, it’s always beenright. You and I werewith other people, but we were always right for each other. And lately, I’vebeen thinking so much about doing what’s best for my son and me, thinking thatgoing back home to be with my parents was it, but that’s wrong, too. Because Imean, really, what’s right for us is to be here. With you and Hannah and hisnurses and …” I shrugged, swallowing at the building emotion in my throat. “AndI don’t want to leave.”
Hissmile was cautious, watching me through uncertain eyes, as he asked, “But don’tyou want to live on Long Island? I thought you don’t like the city.”
Inodded. “I don’t love it here, no. And would I prefer to be on Long Island,getting buddy-buddy with B. Davis? Absolutely. But I’d prefer to be with youeven more.”
