Page 101 of Love Lessons

Fucking hell.

“You will,” I said, with unwavering conviction. I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and squeezed him on the shoulder. “And you’re going to be the best dad someday, too.”

He lifted his head, wiping his mouth. “If I can be half as good as you, then I’m set.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks, man.”

This was one of the most heartfelt conversations I’d ever had, and one of its participants was squatting five inches from his own vomit. I doubted he would even remember this talk of ours in the morning.

I let Owen collect himself for another minute or so before helping him up and walking him back into the car. He laid down in the back again, closing his eyes the second his head hit the leather seat.

Just as I pulled back onto the highway, he said, “Don’t tell Kendall about that. Sarah’s not ready to talk about it yet.”

“I guess we’ve both got secrets to keep, huh?”

He answered with an affirming grunt.

I looked at the clock. 2:13 a.m. Kendall and the others were probably sound asleep by now. My heart sank, because I hoped I could at least see her—maybe even sneak a goodnight kiss or something. We’d barely spoken in the last twenty-four hours, and I was beginning to miss her. And, since it seemed like the perfect night for confessions, I chuckled and admitted out loud for the first time, “I think I’m in love with Kendall, to be honest.”

I waited for some kind of response. A reaction.

Finally, Owen snored.

“Nice talk.” I grinned and shook my head, deciding it was probably best I tell him some other time, anyway.

I drove us the rest of the way home, the sounds of Owen’s snores and the alternative hits of the 90s providing a backdrop to my thoughts. My heart ached for Owen and Sarah—I knew this was just the beginning of a long and possibly painful journey for them. And suddenly, I felt a pang of guilt for all the negative, jealous thoughts I’d been harboring for the last few months.

We all struggled—even Owen Gardner.

chapter thirty-nine

kendall

“I might just pump and dump.”

It was getting late, and the night had delved into a breastfeeding discussion. I found myself sandwiched on the couch between two moms—Vicki and Samantha—who didn’t seem to notice my discomfort as they compared breast pumps and debated over how much wine was safe for a nursing mom to drink.

“I promise you, by the time you’re home tomorrow afternoon, your milk will be safe,” Vicki assured Samantha. “Don’t waste that milk, hon.”

Sarah appeared just as bored with this conversation as me, staring down at her lap with another whiskey shooter in her hand. Expressionless. A few feet away, Jenny was shuffling her tarot cards. Since the photographer left, we had been sitting around Sarah’s living room indulging in drinks and finger food while taking turns having our fortunes read by Jenny. So far, she seemed to be nailing it—Sarah’s reading made her cry. Samantha’s gave her goosebumps. And Vicki told her, “Shut the hell up. Keep going.”

When it came time for my turn, I was a little reluctant. I had just posed in front of these women in my lingerie, but somehow, having my fortune read in front of all of them felt even more revealing. What if Jenny uncovered something too personal or unsettling?

Surprisingly, Jenny’s reading focused on my dad—which made sense once I thought about it. I’d be having dinner with the man in less than twenty-four hours. Jenny homed in on my daddy issues pretty quickly, hinting that his heart might be in the right place this time. I was sure she was just telling me what I needed to hear, so I didn’t read too much into it.

It was the last card she drew that stuck with me—the Empress. While every single one of the previous cards indicated some “masculine energy”—her words, not mine—the Empress symbolized a nurturing, almost maternal-like figure.

And she said that card represented me.

“That makes perfect sense,” Sarah interjected, squeezing Jenny’s arm in disbelief. “She’s a kindergarten teacher.”

But there was something in Jenny’s lingering gaze, something she didn’t voice out loud, that made me pause. I could tell she wanted to say more, but as though she could sense my unease, she just said, “Ah, I thought you might be a teacher.”

I just nodded, absentmindedly twisting the drawstring of my pajama pants around my finger. I pictured Finley’s sweet face, and then Mason’s—and the way his voice trembled when he told me Finley was trying to “win me over.” Just three months ago, I didn’t know either of these people, but now they were… well, they were my entire world.

Across the coffee table from me, Jenny’s eyes were twinkling. “Love just radiates from you, I can tell. Those students of yours are so lucky to have you. And this card is telling me that this is just the beginning—you’re going to have a long and happy… teaching career. Where you are now is where you’re meant to be.”

I understood Jenny’s message to be about Mason and Finley, not my students. And her words replayed over and over in my mind as we wrapped up our night and began to turn in, all spread out across Sarah’s massive sectional couch.

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