When I Need You, Page 28

  “Not that I’m not happy to see you, Jens, but you do tend to show up when there’s something on your mind.”

  “Yeah. Well. Maybe I need advice. But I also need to tell you about it in my own way.”

  He bounced one off the backboard into the hoop from the free throw line.

  I moved in and sank the same shot.

  “The way it’s going with this game, you’ll have all afternoon to get it out.”

  While he was choosing his spot to shoot from, I said, “It’s about Rowan.”

  “Rowan,” he repeated. “The single-mother cheerleading medical professional who breaks every one of your dating rules?”

  Smart-ass. “That’s her.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I think I might be kinda sorta halfway in love with her.”

  Brady stopped dribbling. “You think, you might . . . kinda, sorta . . . halfway? Nope. Nothing wrong with that vague-ass statement.”

  “Excuse the hell out of me. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel. I should—it should—feel more solid, right? I mean, I should know if it’s the real deal?”

  He sighed. “I’d hoped maybe you were here for financial advice, because I can dole that shit out in my sleep. But this?” Brady shook his head. “Until I met Lennox, I had zero experience with that kind of love.”

  “Which is why you are the perfect person for me to talk to about this. Walker’s been in and out of love with a dozen women. Triple that number for Nolan. Jax . . . he’s been in an altered frame of mind so I doubt he even remembers if he was in love. And Ash is hung up on that Olivia chick. So it’s your lucky day. I’d sound like an idiot if I admitted this to anyone else.”

  “Admitted what?”

  “That maybe I’m mistaking friendship and fondness and responsibility for something deeper with Rowan because I don’t know what is normal.” My face was on fire—not from overexertion. I hung my head and set my hands on my hips. “Do you know what a totally self-involved asshole I feel like admitting that out loud? Even to you?”

  “Yeah, Jens, I do know.”

  I met his gaze. “Help me sort this out. Please.”

  Brady pointed to the bench. “This conversation requires beer. And yeah, I stocked that low-cal, low-carb kind so it doesn’t mess with your training diet.”

  “Been expecting me, have you?” I joked.

  “More like I hoped you’d come around more often.” He handed me a beer and sat on the opposite end of the bench with his. “I’m a list guy. That won’t work in this case, so just go with the stream-of-consciousness thing you do and I’ll try and keep up.”

  My brother wasn’t being flip. Our brains worked in different ways and we’d known since we were kids that in order to understand each other, we had to adjust our listening skills. It was one of the best things our parents had taught us, since they’d dealt with it because of our mother’s background as a non-native English speaker.

  So I laid it all out for him. From my list of dating rules to Rowan’s list making anything between us a nonstarter. From the perspective that she had something to lose if anyone discovered our involvement, to my stubbornness that no one should get to dictate that for us. I liked her kid; I hated the responsibilities of single parenthood resting solely on her shoulders. I could see myself being around her and Calder every day and liking it more each day. I listed every single thing I liked about her. Every single thing that drove me crazy. I didn’t keep track in my head because I knew Brady was compiling a mental list. When I finished speaking, I took a long pull of beer and allowed my brother some time to process it.

  After a few moments, he said, “There’s one thing you didn’t mention at all.” He paused. “Sex.”

  “Because we haven’t had sex yet.”

  Brady raised both of his eyebrows. “You’re serious.”

  “Last night we were like . . . this close, but Calder got sick and that was that.”

  “Then to be honest, I don’t think you’ll know if this is the real ‘love’ deal until the sexing happens.”

  “Seriously? That’s the last thing I expected you to list as criteria.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m shocked as hell that you haven’t slept with her and yet you think you’re falling for her. That is not you, Jensen.”

  “Maybe it’s how I am now. I’m not the freakin’ needy manwhore I used to be.”

  He faced me. “Hear me out before you get pissy and defensive. One thing I can tell you about being in love? Sex is a huge part of it. Huge. Because the sex is different. It’s the ultimate manifestation of all the things you love about that person. It is a physical expression of more than just affection. It’s important to a long-term relationship. And if you and Rowan reached that stage last night and her responsibilities to her son put a halt to everything, you have to ask yourself if it’ll always be an issue. If her son’s needs will always come before yours, no matter what.”

  After he said that, I felt a sense of relief. I’d been thinking the same thing, but Brady spelling it out for me so matter-of-factly made me feel less like my concern was coming from a pair of blue balls and resentment I hadn’t wanted to admit. I hadn’t been telling her what I thought she wanted to hear last night when I said I wasn’t upset about us not doing the deed. Her kid was sick. The mood had been shattered. But that was last night. What if we were in the mood tonight? Could she let go with me if her son was in the next room?

  “From a strictly logical point of view,” Brady continued, “a spontaneous sexual relationship will be damn difficult with a kid around all the time. Especially when Calder’s father isn’t in the picture and he isn’t away every other weekend for visitation, giving you and Rowan at least some alone time. You won’t get that lust-filled stage, where you cannot keep your hands off each other and you go at it wherever the mood strikes you. No sex in the kitchen, or on the dining room table, or on the couch during the late news, or against the wall by the front door as the groceries are scattered at your feet, or on the floor in front of the fireplace. The only place you’ll be safe having sex away from the kid is in the bedroom and maybe if you’re lucky, the bathroom. Is that something you can live with? Not just for the short term, but for years?”

  Whoa. While Brady had made several points I needed to think about without man-sex-guilt, his rather specific list of all the taboo places sex couldn’t happen sounded like he’d been thinking about this long before I’d brought it up. I took another swig of beer. “As usual you’re spot-on. But, dude, you asked me that like you were asking yourself. So what’s the deal?”

  Brady laughed. “Can’t pull one over on you.” He fiddled with his beer bottle. “Lennox wants to have a baby.”

  That explained it. “And?”

  “And I love the life I have with her. I love that we can just go wherever the hell we want. I love that if I want to bang her in the breakfast nook because she looks so damn beautiful with the sun streaming through her hair, I can, and not have to worry that there’s a baby in the high chair watching us across the table. Lennox is everything I ever wanted in a life partner. And I can’t help but feel that I’m not enough for her, if she wants to have a baby.”

  “Have you told her any of this?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve been married a couple of years, but it doesn’t seem like I’ve had enough time with her. She had a super shitty childhood, her mom is a piece of work and Lennox never expressed a burning desire to have a baby. So I don’t know if she wants this because Trinity is pregnant. So is her BFF Kiley. I have this . . . fear—probably an irrational one—that if we had a baby, we’d gain a family but I’d lose my wife. The way she is now. The way I love her now and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.”

  I whistled. “This is some heavy stuff.”

  “For both of us.”

  “Have you thought about talking to Dad?”

  Brady looked at me oddly. “Dad? Seriously? You think he’ll be honest abo
ut whether a kid ruins your sexual relationship with your wife while he’s looking into the eyes of his oldest son?”

  “Yeah, I think Dad will be honest with you. Even if it stings a little. Even if the ‘sex with Mom’ portion of it makes you uncomfortable. Face it. He’s an expert at being a great father, maintaining his place in the family business and sustaining a marriage for years—to a woman he’s still crazy about—beyond the years they raised kids. I know we all assume Mom and Dad tell each other everything, but I know firsthand that’s not true.”

  “Dad, huh?” Brady took another drink of beer. “Didn’t see that one coming. I figured you’d tell me to talk to a counselor.”

  I shrugged. “It’s an option. But it’s better to go with someone you trust first. A guy who understands where you’re coming from.” I finished my beer and stood. “Which is why I showed up today. Thanks, by the way.”

  “I don’t know that I helped you, without dragging my own shit into it.”

  “You did. After my injury I quit being the guy that let my ego and my dick make my decisions about how I spent my time off the field. But I needed the reminder that I’m not the guy who’ll settle for a sexless existence either.”

  “Good.” He walked me to the door. “You’ll be at brunch tomorrow?”

  “It depends on where I end up tonight. And no, I’m not assuming that I’ll be rolling out of Rowan’s bed in the morning. I need some distance. I thought I’d go up to the cabin.”

  Nineteen

  ROWAN

  Calder remained sick all day Saturday.

  By Sunday at noon he’d bounced back as if the past thirty-six hours hadn’t happened.

  I’d enforced quiet time, which was almost harder for him than being sick . . . until he discovered the brand-new puppies puzzle Jensen had left on the table with the crackers and ginger ale. He’d settled in to work on the puzzle, asking me only every other hour when Jensen was coming over.

  I wish I knew.

  I’d sent Jensen a text this morning giving him an update on Calder.

  His response?

  Thnx.

  That’d been it.

  Since then I’d been restless.

  And it hadn’t helped it’d been so quiet in the apartment complex that I could hear the elevator ding down the hallway.

  I listened to the comings and goings of our neighbors in the eight apartments in our wing of the building.

  I heard Lenka and Bob the building manager talking about the sticky sections of asphalt in front of the mailboxes.

  I heard Inga and her sister Isla, both professional ice skaters from the Ukraine who spoke limited English, giggling and teasing each other in their native language.

  I heard Joseph and Dieter, a married couple from Germany, both figure skating teachers, arguing about whose turn it was to clean out the cat box.

  I heard Isabel, the cyclist from Switzerland, holding a conversation in French on her phone as she walked past toward her apartment—the last one on this floor.

  Mischa and Pavel’s apartment across from Isabel’s sat empty while they visited family in Hungary.

  Beatrice, a former biathlete, now a flight attendant for Icelandic Air, was in Iceland for a month visiting her kids, so her place was empty too.

  I heard nothing from Jensen’s apartment. No music or TV. I’d become so attuned to him that I knew how his keys sounded when he shoved them in the lock. A sound I hadn’t heard since Friday night.

  Because I obsessed about . . . everything really, I replayed Friday’s events over and over.

  Trying to figure out if I’d misread our post-Calder-vomiting conversation.

  Calder comes first for me. Every single time.

  As he should.

  But?

  No buts. Your dedication to being there for your son will never be an arguable point for me.

  Then what are we arguing about?

  Nothing. I had to force you to take my help tonight. All I’m asking is, next time? Don’t fight me on it. Save us both the time and wasted energy and accept it.

  There’ll be a next time?

  Well, if I have any say in it . . . yes.

  Had he meant it?

  Maybe the better question was . . . had I? Why would a man want to get involved with me if he knew he’d never be my priority?

  Ding ding.

  Maybe Jensen had realized that. Maybe his silence indicated he’d decided we were better off just being friends, casual friends, before things became too complicated.

  You’re making things complicated. You’re making excuses. When all you need to do is make a few changes.

  I heard Daisy telling me: I hate that you’ve equated selfless with sexless. It’s always made me sad that you put your physical needs at the bottom of your “life priority” list.

  Even Talia had given me advice: But I don’t hear from Calder that you let him play with those kids very often. Only if you’re with him. Do you think that’s best? Given he’s got a built-in social network so close by? It’d be good for him, as an only child, to develop some interpersonal skills . . . Because I think some separation would be good for you too.

  I loved my son. I was a good mother, but I was more than just a mother.

  As Jensen had pointed out: You’re allowed a night of fun. You’re a great mom, but that’s not all you are. You are crazy, sexy hot, baby.

  The only way I could believe that was to enforce it. Take a few steps back. Reassess. Give Calder room to grow and develop friendships. Pursue friendships myself with other parents. I’d feel more comfortable loosening the reins with Calder if I knew how quickly the other kids’ parents jerked back their reins on their kids if they stepped out of line. That meant taking the time to get to know them.

  I wasn’t the only single parent in this apartment complex. Andrew’s mom was widowed. Noelle’s mom was divorced. I wasn’t sure on Benji and Emily’s family situations. But it occurred to me that all the kids who lived in the other building were onlys. No wonder they ran together in a pack.

  So what did Andrew’s mom do when Andrew got sick and she needed medicine? Or Noelle’s mom when she had to work late? Did they have someone in their lives to rely on? Or were they like me, slogging away, day to day, acting as if they could do it all?

  Maybe we all needed a little help.

  Gabriel and Gejel had reached out to me and I’d been embarrassingly self-assured that I didn’t need help. I was used to dealing with whatever life threw at us; it was me and Calder against the world.

  But it didn’t have to be that way.

  My child and I would both be better off if it wasn’t that way.

  Things change. People change. It’s time for you to change, Rowan.

  I grabbed my cell and called Nicolai’s parents before I talked myself out of it.

  “Hey, Gejel, it’s Rowan Michaels. Yes. He’s much better.” I laughed. “Like he’d never even been sick. I know, right? Anyway, thank you for having him over Friday night. I’ve been thinking about a couple of things I’d like to run past you and Gabriel.” I glanced at the clock. “Twenty minutes is perfect. Calder will be thrilled to get some fresh air. Okay. See you in a bit.”

  After I ended the call, I said, “Get your suit on,” to Calder. “We’re meeting Nicolai and his family at the pool.”

  His face lit up. “For real?”

  “For real.”

  He whooped and danced around.

  Yep. The kid was definitely feeling better.

  • • •

  Sunday evening, after I’d fortified myself with a glass of wine, I texted Jensen.

  Me: I hope your weekend got better. We missed you.

  Me: I missed you.