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I open the door and peek in. He’s sitting in his gaming chair, ready to boot up a game.
“Can you give me a minute?”
“I don’t care.”
I pick up his clothes that are strewn on the floor and toss them in his laundry bin. Usually I’d be on him to do it, but the mom guilt is extra fierce this morning. “It’s not what you think.”
He glances over his shoulder, looks me up and down, and turns around. “I’m old enough that you don’t have to sugarcoat it. It was pretty obvious what was going on.”
“It was the Fourth of July party at the Noughtons’.” I stop. Probably should’ve taken time to figure out my wording.
“I know. I was there before you, remember?”
“Well, at night, a lot of the adults get together. I’m not proud of it, but I drank too much, and Ben drove me home.” I make his bed, tucking the sheets in tight like he likes.
“Why’d he drive you home?”
“I’m not sure. To be honest with you, I don’t remember.” I cringe. “But I’m sure I probably wanted him to. Ben and I…”
“I know. You told me already how he left you here.” The hurt in his tone is something I’m familiar with. It’s the same tone when we discuss his father.
“He left to fulfill his dream.”
“And in exchange, he left you behind. He could’ve come back for you.”
“Look at me, Clayton,” I say, but he doesn’t.
He continues to pretend that this is going to be a quick “you’re not doing your chores” conversation. But this is so much more.
“Clay.”
He spins on his chair to face me. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say. He’s going to be the football coach. He’s going to be involved in my life for the next four years, if he sticks around.”
I don’t mention that it depends on whether we do too. Now is not the time to talk about us moving.
“And I already don’t like him,” Clay adds.
“You don’t have to like him, but you should know that I’ve decided to forgive him.”
“You what?” His voice gets louder. “How could you?”
“It’s complicated, and I don’t expect you to understand. You will when you get older. We were young and?—”
“Are you going to date him?”
That’s the question. Before the alcohol haze of last night, that searing kiss comes to mind. I’m pretty sure I said we’d try. And although I don’t want the town to know and had plans of keeping Clayton out of it for a while, that ship has sailed. I told my son I’d never lie to him, and I meant it. If I lie to him, he’ll start lying to me, and that’s not the relationship I want with my son.
“I might. But I really don’t want anyone else to know.”
He shakes his head, resting his forearms on his thighs. “So you’ll be his little secret?”
“No. It was by my request. I don’t want to be the topic of gossip.”
“Or you’re afraid that when he leaves, like we all know he will, you’ll be embarrassed that you walked right back into his arms.”
Damn, that hurt. Maybe this whole being truthful thing is overrated.
“Maybe that is part of it. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, Clayton, but Ben has always held a piece of my heart.”
