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“Can you just tell me?” I beg quietly.
He shakes his head, and it breaks my heart.
And then a sneaking suspicion hits me. Maybe it has something to do with me. Given that I’m all over the news dubbed as the other woman, it’s ridiculous for me to believe that nobody in his second-grade class overheard their parents gossiping about the breaking news and it didn’t somehow come back around to him.
When we formulated this stupid fake relationship plan, I never really thought about the consequences of getting caught.
I didn’t think through how it might someday affect my son.
I stop pushing him, though. He’s protecting me, maybe, and I can’t fault him for that. So I hold him, and I murmur about how everything’s going to be okay, and I pray that I’m right.
The doorbell rings just as my little boy starts to pull himself together, and I press a kiss to his forehead. “You okay for me to get that?”
He nods, and I squeeze him before I head over toward the door.
I peek through the peephole and I’m surprised to see Lincoln standing there. My tummy does a little flip of excitement.
I open the door and usher him in quickly when I see more than one car parked across the street. It’s probably a little dangerous for him to be photographed arriving on my doorstep given everything that went down today.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe this is the better route to go—to show solidarity between the two of us.
His concerned eyes land on me. “I’m sorry to just drop by, but I texted you a while ago and didn’t hear back, and I just…needed to see you.” He looks around me and spots Jonah in the family room. “How are you two doing?”
I blow out a breath, and tears threaten to spill over just as the mere thought of him inquiring about the two of us. Meanwhile, Jonah’s own father has been absolutely silent. I haven’t heard a word from him, and given the fact that he’s friends with Rivera, I would venture to guess that he knows and he doesn’t care how seeing his son’s mother in the news is affecting his son.
A thought occurs to me, but it’s so far-fetched that I’m not entirely sure I want to put words to it.
But what if…
What if Jeremy had a hand in this? What if Jeremy agreed to help paint me as a terrible person so I wouldn’t win the battle for sole parental rights?
He’s just underhanded enough to do it, and now that the thought is in my brain, I’m not quite sure how to make it go away.
I won’t mention it in front of Jonah, though.
“We’re hanging in there,” I finally say to Lincoln.
He squeezes me quickly then looks around me to see Jonah on the couch. He presses a kiss to my temple before heading in my son’s direction, and my chest tightens at how concerned he is not just about me, but about Jonah. He seems to realize there’s more than one person in this equation, something his father never thought about, and I can’t help but wish things were different.
But I can wish as hard as I want. It doesn’t change reality.
“Hey, little dude,” he says when he plops down next to Jonah.
And I don’t know if my kid is trying to be a tough guy since Lincoln is here or what, but something magical seems to happen. My child transforms before my very eyes. He relaxes just a little, and it gives me hope that everything is going to be okay.
“You doing okay?” Lincoln asks him.
He nods a little. “I’m okay.”
“Was school good today?”
He shrugs.
“You want to talk about it?”
Jonah’s eyes edge over to me, and then he nods. “Can we talk somewhere just you and me?”
Lincoln looks over at me as if asking for permission, and I hold both hands up as if to say be my guest.
