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An instant look of rejection flashed through his deep brown eyes and I felt annoyed at how rude I'd sounded. I sighed in my effort to calm myself down, though my heart rate and breathing were racing. The last thing I wanted was to upset Colby's day or ruin the great memories Sawyer and I had made for Christmas.
"I was driving around and found myself here. I've been sitting outside since just after 8:30 a.m. this morning, trying to work up the nerve to knock."
"Is that so? Then that's not like you. I find it hard to believe you found it difficult to knock on the door where your ex-wife and child live." I glanced at the window to ensure Colby couldn't hear, leaned closer and hissed. "Pity you didn't have the same trouble working up the nerve to slide your cock inside another woman when you were living with us." All the effort I'd put in to remaining calm didn’t affect my sharp tongue as I spat the words out in a rush.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Billie." For the first time since he'd moved in with Poppy, I saw a glimpse of shame in his gaze, the one solitary sign of remorse for what he'd put me through since he had wrecked our marriage. Feelings I thought had died suddenly mattered again and I shook my head.
"Why aren't you with Poppy?" I queried, changing the conversation to safer ground because I knew I was in danger of undoing all the work Sawyer had helped me sort through. Sawyer. Thoughts of him smiling warmly and gazing adoringly toward me sprang into my mind, and once I reminded myself I had a second chance in life, I let out a calming sigh.
"Gone to visit her parents in Vermont," he informed me. He's alone? Did she leave him home alone at Christmas time?
The shutters moved in the window and I realized Colby was watching us. "You'd better come in since your son knows you're here."
Relief washed over Logan's face and he made to reach out for my arm. I shifted out of his reach and pushed open the front door before he could make that contact.
"Look who's come to see you, Colby," I aimed for the brightest voice I could manage. Our son stood rigid by the window; his unsure gaze looked first at me then toward his father. "Surprise! He's spending Christmas day with us this year," I said as if it had been the plan all along. I knew deep down Logan showing up had the potential to wipe out Colby's happy memories Sawyer had spent building for him.
No matter what he'd done, Logan was still Colby's father. He stood larger than life in our living room and the last thing I wanted our son to remember from this day was his parents at each other's throats. When uncertainty flitted fleetingly through Colby's eyes, not quite matching the small smile on his face, I knew I had to offer reassurance.
"As your dad is here now, why don't you open all your gifts and this way you can plan what you want to play with first. Maybe if there's a board game we can play it together," I added. Logan slipped off his jacket and wandered to the hallway coat stand with all the familiarity of the man who once lived with us.
Despite my reservations, our Christmas Day was incredibly amicable. Colby read some comics to Logan, and his father actually lay on the floor to play with action figures with our son. This was an event in itself and something I'd never seen him do before. After a while, Colby let down his guard and told Logan how much he liked Sawyer, and how Sawyer had promised to teach him to fish and that he was going to ask him to help him to play the guitar.
Although I could see Logan was ticked, he thankfully held his thoughts in his head. I could tell from the look on his face it was clear it was something he was storing for later, probably as soon as his son went to bed.
We ate lunch late, around 2:30, due to me not realizing I hadn't turned the oven up to the correct temperature when Logan had first arrived. It had felt civil until Logan began relaying stories of places we'd been before Colby was born and reminding me of all the good times we'd had. I began clearing away the dishes and left Logan and Colby talking together.
When I heard my ex-husband telling our son about our previous life as a couple, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It left an unexpected lump in my throat and the threat of tears burned deep down, but I refused to become emotional.
"I remember the time your mom and I took a road trip to Niagara Falls," he reminisced. My chest tightened at the memory because the night after we'd arrived there was the night he'd proposed.
As he continued telling Colby about our past as a couple, he made it sound as if he'd had the time of his life, and I realized how he'd seen it wasn't quite my experience of our lives. If our life together had been as fabulous as you say, why did you throw it away? Despite what I wanted to say, I bit back the words and reminded myself again how he'd betrayed us.
"Why did you leave my mom?" My heart stopped for a beat; my hands were frozen, the saucepan in mid-air, as the words I'd been thinking were given life from the mouth of our curious eight-year-old boy. I held my breath, my worried eyes concentrating solely on Colby as I waited and dreaded his father's reply.
"You know, son, sometimes we adults don't always make the right decisions. We make mistakes, just like you do. Life is always a learning process. We can't learn everything while we're at school or college. Sometimes we meet someone and love them so hard we want to spend our whole lives with them."
Tears blurred my vision when I knew he was talking about me and I placed the pan on the drainer. Turning away, I opened the pantry door and stared inside with my back to them both. The pain in my heart when I heard Logan explain why he left felt too hard for me to listen to, yet I had nowhere to go unless I walked directly in front of them. I stood praying his explanation wasn't too long, or too painful to forget when he was done.
"Did you think you wanted to spend your whole life with Mom?" Colby's question was like a fist tightening around my heart and I closed my eyes in my effort to shut out the world, but it didn't work.
Logan sighed. "Yes, I did," he answered quietly. I heard him swallow in the otherwise silent moment as Colby digested this.
"Then what?" our son asked, putting Logan on the spot and leaving me feeling as if I were reliving the moment he walked out on us.
"Then … I met Poppy," he said like it was a throwaway comment. It had sounded too cheerful, like he'd won the lottery, realized he should have been with her, and given his previous comment, it insinuated we were his mistake.
"And you wanted to spend your whole life with her," Colby prompted. I knew he'd come up with the same conclusion as me.
"No. I mean, not when I met her."
"Now?" Colby probed, not letting the subject drop.
"Now? Marry Poppy, you mean?"
"Are you?" Colby asked, alarmed. The pain in my small son's voice made me turn quickly, my eyes meeting Logan's.
"I married your mom, son. I was with your mom for a very long time," he replied, reaching over and taking Colby's hand. Our son stared at his hand in his father's like it was a rare event.
