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"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,” I murmur.
"—Raven,” she names the poem correctly. "You like Poe so much?"
I reach for a sweatshirt and turn to face her. “He speaks to the darkness within me,” as do you. “He puts a name to the fear I feel inside me.”
“Fear?” She half smiles. “I can’t see you being afraid of anything.”
I’m afraid of losing you. But that won’t stop me from the duty I have toward my son, this time. I want to tell her that, but something stops me. Perhaps, my fear that she might insist my duty to my son comes first? Something I know I should prioritize but which, God help me, I can’t. I have to find a way to balance my role as a parent with these very real feelings I have for her. I can’t let her go. I can’t. But I also need her to want to marry me willingly. I need—my phone buzzes again.
I pull it out of the pocket of my jeans and disconnect it. My son never did have patience. I brush past her, resisting the urge to grab her and kiss her soundly before I head to the door, then stop. "Why don’t you shower, and meet me downstairs?"
"I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me why you proposed to her." Felix throws himself into the chair next to the window in my living room. Then he slides around to hook his legs over one of the arms of the chair. He wriggles around until his back is supported by the other arm, then flashes me a grim smile. So much posturing. The father in me is happy my son has picked up the confidence to go toe-to-toe with me. I’d rather we have a direct conversation man-to-man to work things out. But also, the father in me cringes at the fact I have to explain to my son why I can’t not marry his ex.
I hold up both of my hands. “This is your home. You are welcome here, Felix; you know that.”
He seems taken aback, then schools his expression back into one of hostility. “How am I supposed to know that? How am I supposed to know anything when you’ve barely been around for me?”
I draw in a sharp breath. I’m aware of my shortcomings. Aware of the mistakes I made when I was younger. But to hear it from my son’s mouth is sobering. “It must have been difficult for you to realize your mother had left without you. And even tougher to have a father who wasn’t there for you.”
He blinks. Emotions war in his eyes. A mix of anger and fear and loneliness. The kind I’ve felt myself when I think of my son. Not knowing how to forge a bond with him. Feeling resentful to have become a father when I wasn’t ready for it. Unable to deal with his mother leaving me when I needed her the most. Unable to face up to my duties. Hating myself for it, but also, never courageous enough to embrace my responsibilities. And by the time I was ready, feeling like it was too late. Like I’d lost my son. Except I didn’t. He's here now. And I need to find a way to... build a bridge with him. Perhaps, his once fiancée and my now wife to-be can help us find common ground. Both of us care for her, after all.
“You have no idea what I went through,” Felix snaps.
“You’re right, I don’t. But I want to try.”
He scoffs. “A little too late for father-son bonding, don’t you think?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I point out.
He sets his jaw. "And you know what I want!"
I draw down my eyebrows. "She’s not a possession.”
He scoffs, “Says the man who believes she’s his and who’d hide her away from the world if he had the chance.”
I rock back on my heels. "You have to believe I didn’t have a choice in this. When I saw her, it was like a bolt of lightning had struck me. And then, you had broken up with her... I... I couldn’t take how she looked standing on her own at the altar. She looked forlorn and lonely, and so very sad. I acted on instinct. I couldn’t leave her there.”
“So you did it because you wanted to what, swoop in and save her?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I did it because there was no way I could not have proposed to her. It was a compulsion I hardly understood myself but could not deny. I acted on instinct.”
He juts out his chin. “You did it because you saw the opportunity to move in on what was mine.”
"Felix, I thought you didn't want her." And I was so relieved. "It was your wedding, and you were nowhere to be found. You broke up via a text to your best man. Can you blame anyone for assuming you'd changed your mind? That you didn't want her?"
"Well—" He averts his eyes. "Why did it have to be you that showed up to rescue her? You wouldn't even know her if it weren't for me."
"That's true…"
"When you met her, she was mine,” he glowers.
"No, Felix. And I need you to hear this"—he turns back toward me, and I continue—"when I met her, you had already stood her up. She wasn't yours anymore."
"I… You… She wasn't supposed to be yours!"
I can hear the pain behind his words, and my heart squeezes. I can't have him thinking I did this to one-up him. “This isn’t a competition, Felix,” I say softly.
“Isn’t it?”
