Starting Over (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

P
reoccupied is the best way to describe how I am when I meet up with Cameron at a small café by my house. I mean, it’s not because of him being boring or monotonous. If anything, he’s charming and witty, and adorably handsome as usual.

It’s me.

I can’t stop worrying about Josie, or worrying about this meeting with her dad in a couple of days, or worrying how I’m going to feel when I see Matthew for the first time in years . . . and definitely thinking of how I’m going to take hearing him talk about his new life.

I didn’t realize that would bother me so much, because of course, he had to go and get himself a new life at some point. The only problem is that I never did; my whole life has consisted of being a single parent. Only recently did I allow myself to venture out and see what’s available for me . . . and that’s when I found Cameron. Which is great, it really is. But I can’t help the nagging feeling that I should be home, acting more like that same parent who gave up everything to be there for her daughter.

“Vanessa?”

Cameron’s concerned voice snaps me off of the runaway train that is barreling through my brain. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, and I apologize for not paying attention . . . again.

“It’s okay, you seemed like you were somewhere else there for a minute. Is everything all right? Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I’m fine, or I will be fine once this weekend is over,” I say and notice the worried crease in his forehead. “I’m so sorry, and I keep saying that, I know, but I can’t help it right now. My brain feels like it’s in overdrive.”

He nervously looks around before leaning across the table and kissing me. It’s a quick press of his lips against mine, but it’s enough to bring me back to the here and now and focus on him. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he says, looking unsure still and running a hand through his hair. “No, that’s not true. You looked as if you needed it and I . . . I really wanted to.”

Grinning, I lean forward and take his face in my hands, pulling him toward me, and kiss him this time, trying to help ease his mind and at the same time keep me grounded to this moment with him.

When I pull away, he brings his hand up to cup my face and rubs his thumb gingerly across the apple of my cheek. “Why did you do that?”

“I needed it and . . . I really wanted to.”

Sitting back down, he drops his hand and curiously tilts his head to the side. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you regret doing what we did the other night?”

I shake my head instantly. “No, why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you still felt the same.”

I thought I’d made it clear that I had wanted to let that happen with him. I mean, I was the one who turned around and took the leap of faith. Do I feel conflicted about being here with him now? That’s a whole other issue in and of itself that I don’t want to tackle right now.

Seeing the look on my face, he says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be making you worry about anything when you have so much going on already.”

“Cameron, yes, things are crazy right now, but they should settle down. And, not for nothing, but this is all kind of new to me in a weird, late bloomer kind of way.”

Leaning back in his chair, he chuckles at that. “You are definitely not a late bloomer, Vanessa.”

“Well, what else would you call it?”

He crosses his arms, covering up his clever and cute black T-shirt that has an image of Darth Vader on it that says “Come to the nerd side, we have Pi.”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Then he brings his finger up to push his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose and says in a sure voice, “You’re methodical and confident, even though you think you aren’t half the time. You’re beautiful and smart, and probably the most creative person I’ve ever met. And all of that is sitting right in front of me, which I still can’t wrap my head around.”

I blush at his compliments and say, “How did you get to be such a nice guy?”

“Don’t use that word, ‘nice.’ It’s the kiss of death.”

Laughing now, I say, “No, it’s not. At least not for me it isn’t.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘nice guys finish last’?” he asks. “That’s me in a nutshell.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say. Leaning forward again, I rest my elbows on the table and prop my chin in my hands. “I love that you’re so nice and patient with me and willing to put up with all this craziness in my life.”

And I really do believe that, because a lot of men would have run in the opposite direction after the other night. But he’s been so understanding and encouraging, which makes me feel terrible for not being able to do much more than this right here with him, right now. The logical and responsible part of my brain wishes I could tell him that this, us, is bad timing and maybe we can put it on the back burner for a little while as things move along with Josie and Matthew. But then the emotional side of my brain doesn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him would hurt, I know it. Because I do have feelings for him, just as I know he has feelings for me . . . but I don’t know if I’m ready to say it or to hear it or even admit it out loud to myself. So I think the way to go is to keep him, but at arm’s length for now, or at least until the dust settles with everything else.

After I notice the time and tell him I have to go and pick up Josie, he walks me to my car. I can’t help but notice the uncertainty in his eyes in the way he sneaks a glance at me every so often as we’re approaching my car. I want to be able to say all the things that are in my heart and on the tip of my tongue to alleviate his concerns, and mine, for that matter, but I can’t right now. Seeing him trying to piece together what is going on in my head and heart makes me want to comfort him, which honestly scares me to death.

“So, I’ll see you again soon?” he asks, slightly unsure.

“Yes, you will. I promise.”

He moves toward me and takes my face in his hands, searching my face and my eyes for something . . . some telltale sign that will defuse this unknown between us. “I need you to know that I want more from you.”

“Cameron, I—”

“Wait, let me finish.” He kisses my cheek and then the corner of my mouth. Then he says, “I know that you can’t right now, and that’s fine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, because it’s you that I want more than anything, Vanessa. Just you.”

“When you say things like that you make it impossible for me to leave, you know that, right?”

With a chuckle, he says, “I think that’s the point.”

Then he lowers his head and starts to kiss me unhurriedly; my head tilts to give him better access when his tongue touches mine. I loop my arms around his neck to keep him close to me and to feel every part of his body perfectly fit against mine. I sense myself falling for him even more with every stroke of his tongue, with every change in pressure of his lips, and with every emotion that he delivers in this kiss.

My eyes are still closed when he breaks the kiss, and when I open them he’s already letting me go while taking a step away from me. I instantly miss his lips, his tenderness . . . and him.

Without saying a word, he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and looks on as I open the car door. Just when I’m about to climb into the driver’s seat, I look up again at Cameron, whose dark eyes are clouded with an unspoken question.

Do you really still want this?

This time, I take the easy out and don’t answer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

S
aturday comes much quicker than I want it to.

And when it’s finally here, I want it over before it even begins.

I spoke with my attorney again yesterday afternoon, and she reassured me that everything was going to be all right. That possibly, if this works out today, Matthew may be willing to drop his petition for paternity since there really isn’t a question as to whether or not he’s Josie’s father. But that would mean that there would have to be some sort of visitation worked out, and of course, as my attorney made sure to point out several times, child support.

I’m not sure how I feel about all of that yet, even the child support. Because I’ve been able raise Josie without his help and I don’t want to have him think that I can’t going forward. However, I’m not an idiot and would definitely consider it. Again, this would all depend on a lot of variables going extraordinarily well today. So I won’t hold my breath.

Josie is taking this all in stride, which further proves how much more mature and evolved she is than her own mother. She’s sitting in the living room with a book in her lap, her eyes scanning the page for something in particular, and seems at peace with whatever the outcome is today.

That helps to relax me as the time approaches for Matthew’s arrival, which should be any minute now. In those ten minutes, I find myself hoping that he doesn’t disappoint her in any way, that what he said in his initial letter is exactly what he intends to do.

When the doorbell rings, my heart literally feels as if it drops all the way down to my feet and then boomerangs up to my throat, where I know it will stay lodged for the remainder of the afternoon. Josie stands up quickly and heads for the door. I meet her there, and as I reach for doorknob, she says, “Wait, Mom. Give me a second, okay?”

She pulls some of her blonde hair behind her ears and then runs her hands down the front of the skirt she’s wearing, ensuring the pleats in the fabric are nice and neat. Then she looks up at me one more time and nods. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Leaning down, I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her before finally opening the door to her father.

He looks exactly the same.

From the glint in his bright blue eyes to the innocent but knowing smile he wears on his face. Of course, with age, he also looks more distinguished, but that face . . . I swear I feel as if I’ve been transported back to that very day we met on campus.

“Hello, Vanessa,” he says cordially and nicely enough that I don’t feel put off by him instantly. Then his eyes quickly scan down to where Josie is standing beside me, the top of her head just reaching my shoulder, and he stares at her with complete wonderment in his eyes. “You must be Josie.”

“And you must be my dad.” She steps forward, sticks out her hand, and says, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Matthew looks to me for approval, and I nod, so he takes her hand in his and shakes it formally. “I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to finally meet you too, Josie.”

“Why don’t you come in and have a seat so we can all talk?” I offer politely.

Josie lets him go, and he follows us into the living room, where she sits next to me, and Matthew takes the opposite seat, still staring at her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to gawk, but it’s like—”

“Like looking in a mirror,” I finish for him. “She does look a lot like you, Matthew. I’ve always thought that too.”

“I see you in her too, Vanessa. She’s so . . . I’m sorry.” He looks to Josie again and then says, “
You
are so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Both Josie and I say this at the same exact time.

She looks to me, and I sense a relief in her so deep that it overwhelms me. I thought I could hold it together, but seeing her like this, I start to get emotional, and that’s the last thing I want to do in front of either of them. So I excuse myself to the bathroom to collect myself.

Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I wipe my eyes quickly before any mascara starts to run over. Then I say to myself as calmly and quietly as possible, “Vanessa, get your ass back in there and be there for your daughter. You can do this.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I open the door and walk back down the hallway, where I hear a snippet of their conversation.

“So how are you doing in school? You should be in high school now, right? A freshman, I think.”

“Next year I’ll be a freshman. This is my last year of junior high school, and I do okay.”

“Something tells me that you’re probably an honor roll student,” Matthew says and guesses right.

Josie doesn’t say anything, but from the smirk on her face, he figures it out. “How about friends? I bet you have a lot of them.”

“I have two best friends: Carrie and Lorelei, and they’re awesome. For Halloween this year we all dressed up as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

There is a pregnant pause in the conversation, then Matthew clears his throat and asks her if there is anything she wants to know about him.

“Everything,” Josie admits.

“Okay, well, I’m married and oh, you have two little sisters, twins actually.”

I can tell from where I’m hiding in the hallway that Josie is grinning wide when she says, “I read that in your letter. What do they look like?”

I hear a ruffling of movement and take the chance to come out of the shadows, so to speak, and sit down again. “Is everything okay, kid?” I ask Josie quietly, running my hand down the length of her hair soothingly.

“Yeah, my dad was just showing me pictures of my little sisters. Do you want to see too?”

“I’m not sure your mom wants to just yet, Josie,” Matthew interjects.

I’ll give him credit, he knows that as much as I’m sitting here and giving in to this meeting, he realizes that with the history between us—and not just where Josie is concerned—I may not be fully ready to see the other part of his life. But I want to make sure he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he has never and never will get the best of me.

“Of course I want to see,” I say, making Josie smile and Matthew a little uncomfortable for the first time since he’s arrived.

What he shows me on his phone is a picture of two beautiful baby girls, both of them dressed the same in tiny pink tutus over plain pink onesies. They both have very fine blonde hair, and their eyes are as blue as their father’s and Josie’s.

“They’re beautiful, Matthew,” I say and hand him back his phone. “What are their names?”

“Isabella and Sophia.” He smiles, glancing at the picture once more
before putting away his phone. “They’re just learning how to walk.”

“Mom, how awesome is it that I have not one but two sisters?”

I kiss the crown of Josie’s head and agree that it’s awesome, because what can I say? No, it’s not, it’s completely unfair that this man missed that part of your life and yet he can sit here with a smile in front of us? I can’t. I have to bite my tongue, as I will probably be doing for the rest of this conversation.

“Do you think I can meet them someday?” Josie asks both of us.

“We’ll see,” I say at the same time that Matthew says, “Sure.”

I laugh and then say to Josie, “We just need to work things out, sweetie, okay?”

Then I realize that I may be cramping the conversation that had been flowing so well between the two of them while I was gone, and that kind of makes me feel bad for Josie. So I politely excuse myself again and let them both know that maybe they can get to know each other a little better if I’m not in the room.

“I’ll be in the art studio if you need me, okay?”

When she agrees, I walk to my studio, where I begin pacing the room back and forth for the next twenty minutes. I leave the door open so I can hear a laugh or a giggle every so often between them, but I don’t eavesdrop this time. It’s not until I hear Josie call for me that I come back downstairs and see them standing by the front door.

“Thank you for letting me meet you, Josie. I hope we can do this again,” Matthew says to her and puts out his hand for her to shake.

“I hope so too,” she says. And with the inflection of happiness in her voice, I know she means it.

Honestly, I’m happy for her. But I can’t lie and say that it makes this any easier. Then again, this isn’t about me; this is about her. So I go with it.

“I guess we need to talk,” I say to Matthew and he agrees. “Josie, do you mind going to your room, and I’ll be up in a few minutes?”

She says good-bye to him and runs off, leaving us alone for the first time.

“I don’t know where to start,” he says sheepishly.

“How about the beginning?”

Then I think, no, I don’t need answers for the past anymore. “Actually, forget about that. It’s done. What I
do
want to know for sure before anything else moves forward is that you won’t screw up with her again. Because I swear, if you do, I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands.”

Matthew tries to keep his face from breaking out into a smile.

“I’m serious, Matthew. That little girl has been wondering her whole life about you and I won’t let you mess with her head.”

“I’m not smiling because I think it’s funny. I’m smiling because I knew that you would take care of her and raise her to be the best, most amazing person she could be . . . and she is.” He stops and thinks of what he’s going to say next carefully. “You’ve done an incredible job, Vanessa, and there are not enough words in the English language for me to ever say thank you properly.”

I don’t really have much to say to that and didn’t know until right then that I even wanted to hear all of that come from his mouth. It doesn’t excuse his behavior and nonexistence all these years, but it’s the right step that he needed to take with me.

“I know my track record with you and Josie isn’t worth a thing—and I deserve that and more—but I really want to try to be something to her. It may take years, and I’m prepared for it to take that long, but I mean it.”

I expel a rush of breath as my heart beats wildly. “Matthew, the only way that we can even start considering that is if you drop the petition immediately.”

After a brief second when I catch him off guard, he says, “I agree. I’ll call my attorney immediately.”

Now it’s my turn to be caught off guard. Because I didn’t expect him to agree so readily to my request to drop the petition. But it’s not enough, so I keep going. “And if you think you’ll be added to the birth certificate, you’re crazy. First of all, you’ve never been a father to her, so for me to even consider doing that, you will have to prove yourself much more to me and Josie.”

“I plan to do just that, Vanessa.”

“Matthew, if you think simply saying that out loud is going to be—”

“It’s not enough, I know that. I intend to be the man I should have been years ago to you and to our daughter. You deserve that, of course. But that beautiful little girl deserves it more than anyone. I realize that it’s difficult for you to believe me or trust me, but all I need from you right now is to at least be open . . . even if just a little bit, and that will be enough for now.”

As much as I want to say no and keep on hating him, I can’t. For my daughter’s sake, I have to make an effort. It kills me to admit it to myself, but he’s right. I have to try and trust him.

Reluctantly, I say to him, “You’re right, Matthew. I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Vanessa.”

He leaves then, and when I close the door behind him, I lean against it, closing my eyes and thinking that I didn’t consider it would be that easy to convince him to drop the petition. That doesn’t mean that I still won’t have my guard up where he’s concerned, and I probably always will . . . but it’s a start.