Page 88 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“And! Since we’re on the subject,” she continues. “Do you want to tell me why you canceled on our park date last week?”

“No reason,” I say, making sure not to make eye contact with her, instead focusing on Jack and Winnie playing in front of us.

“Interesting. You know. You’ve been a little weird since you got back from your vacation. You know, the vacation where you had a date that I’ve still not heard about.”

I groan, but that’s the only follow up I make to her statements. I know she’s going to keep going, and I’m going to let her. But I’m not going to add fuel to her fire.

“You might ask, ‘how have I acted weird?’ Great question, I’d love to tell you! For starters, your already short and sweet text messages are even shorter than normal. When Jack FaceTimed you the other night, you looked stressed. And, the biggest signal of them all, I heard you agreed to go to dinner with Mom and Gary. You never do that without two weeks of a fight.”

“His name’s Larry,” I correct.

“And you know his name! You’re not calling him by a nickname. Something is definitely up.”

I hate that she knows all of this. Sure my texts have been short. I felt myself being cold to Jack the other night. As for Mom? That one was just because I’m too tired to fight.

Before she can add on to my list of offenses, I’m saved by my nephew, who comes running over to me and jumps on my lap.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“Water please,” he says, reaching over to Maddie for his water bottle.

I take Jack’s distraction and let myself cuddle him for a second. He still asks to sit on my lap, which I know won’t last for too much longer, so I take it in when I can.

I remember when Maddie told me she was pregnant. She was young, scared, and alone after the sperm donor took off after she told him. From that moment, I knew what I needed to do. Step up. Be who she needed me to be. Do whatever I could for her and Jack. Whether that’s a babysitter, someone to teach him to eventually throw a baseball, or just to show him what a man should be, I was ready. Being Uncle Met has been the best thing that’s happened to me.

“I know you’re going to yell at me, but I’m okay with it; you know you’d be a great father.”

I huff out a laugh as Jack climbs off me and heads back to playing with Winnie. “Sure. Because I knowsomuch about being a father.”

Maddie turns toward me on the bench. “Do you think any of us know what it’s like to be parents before we have a kid? Newsflash: No other parents, books, or Mom hack videos can prepare you for having a child. Do you think I knew what the fuck I was doing when I found out I was pregnant, just because I technically had a mother growing up? I didn’t. If I were to write an autobiography of my parenting, it would be called ‘You Grew Up with Rhonda: Here’s How You Do the Opposite.’”

I laugh, because she’s right. Don’t get me wrong, we never went without a roof over our heads or food on the table. But how did those things get paid for? That we still don’t know, and frankly, I don’t ever want to know.

“That’s fair,” I say. Normally, I’d end this conversation with silence. And I don’t know why I don’t, but yet again my actions are going rogue from my rational brain. “Do you think I’m like them?”

This catches her off guard. “Like who?”

“Mom. My dad. Am I like them?”

Maddie doesn’t answer right away. Which I appreciate. Because she could easily just say “of course not!” and move on.

“I can’t speak for your dad, because I never met him,” she says. “As for Mom? A little. But in a good way.”

That takes me aback. “How’s that?”

“You do what needs to be done for the people you love. Mom might not have had the most conventional way of parenting, but she made sure we never wanted for anything. You do that with me. No matter what it takes, or what you have to sacrifice, you make sure Jack and I don’t want.”

I never thought of it like that. “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. What did you mean then?”

Shit. I’ve said too much. “Never mind.”

“No. Hold up,” Maddie says, grabbing my face and turning it toward her. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she says firmly. “How about instead of you talking, you listen, and I tell you what I think you’ve been wanting to say and that I’ve been thinking for years now.”

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