Page 8 of I Saw Her First

4

Weston

Early morning darkness covers me like a cloak as I roll over and hit my alarm clock with a yawn. Instinctively, I reach a hand out to Lydia’s side of the bed. The familiar ache stirs in my chest when I find it empty, but it’s fainter now. It doesn’t take my breath away like it once did. Still, after more than two decades together, it takes time to get used to waking up alone.

On autopilot, I shower and dress for work before heading downstairs. Jess came in late last night, and he’s left a pile of dirty clothes by the washer. I step over them as I head to the kitchen, trying to ignore the irritation that fizzles in my gut. As desperate as I am to mend the rift between us, I’m getting sick of his lack of respect. I don’t want to pull the whole “as long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll obey my rules” shit with him—I mean, he’s not a child, and he wouldn’t respond well to that anyway—but I’m also not running a damn hotel. When he first moved back in I went easy on him, but it’s been over a month of playing video games all day in his underwear, then staying out at all hours. I might be trying to fix things between us, but I’m alsohis father, and it’s my job to provide boundaries and guidance whether he likes that or not.

I pour bran flakes into a bowl and add milk, thinking about my son. I think he’s started dating someone, but given he hardly grunts two words in my direction, it’s hard to know. The only clue is the goofy look on his face when he picks up his phone, and that I’ve caught him heading out more than once in the evenings in a cloud of cologne, his hair styled neatly. Last time I checked, he doesn’t make that kind of effort for Rex.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs makes me pause, and I nearly drop my spoon when Jesse walks into the kitchen. It’s ten to six in the morning. The only time I’ve ever seen him awake so early is when he’s getting in from a wild night out.

“What are you doing up?” I ask as Jess sticks his head into the pantry.

There’s a long pause, and for a second I think he’s going to straight-up ignore me, but finally he answers, “I have a job interview downtown.”

I try not to balk. “For real?”

He turns from the pantry to stick two Pop-Tarts into the toaster before glancing back at me. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

I quickly school my features. “I just… wasn’t aware you’d been looking for a job.”

He casts his cool gaze over me. “There’s a lot you’re not aware of.”

This fucking kid. Honestly.

I grit my teeth, about to finally give him a talking to, when he says, “My girlfriend set it up.”

I snap my mouth shut.Girlfriend? I figured he was seeing someone, but didn’t know it was that serious. Whoever this mystery woman is, she’s obviously good for him.

I hide a smile behind my hand. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Back when we were close, we’d talk like this all the time. Jess had a long-term girlfriend of two and a half years before his mom died, and I’d assumed those two were going to settle down for good, like Lydia and I did at that age. But after his mom’s death, everything changed.

Jesse contemplates me as if he’s considering sharing more. I’d give anything to have him slide onto the stool at the island beside me and tell me about this girlfriend, like the old days.

Instead, he turns back to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice, pouring himself a glass, saying nothing.

“Well, I think it’s great you’re going for an interview.” I run my gaze over his jeans and plain tee, wondering if I should suggest he change. Surely he shouldn’t be dressed so casually?

But before I can say anything, the toaster pops. He drains his juice and grabs his breakfast, turning on his heel.

“Good luck,” I call as he leaves the kitchen, but either he doesn’t hear me, or simply chooses not to respond.

My money’s on the latter.

I finish my bowl of cereal with a sigh. What’s it going to take for Jess to start talking to me again? I’ve given him somewhere to live. I feed him. Hell, most of the time I even do his laundry. He’s not a kid anymore, but I’m doing this because I love him, and I want him to see I’m trying. I want him to see I still care, despite everything.

I glance at my watch and realize I need to get moving, especially if I want time to enjoy the quiet at Joe’s before the day starts. Dumping my bowl in the sink, I decide I’ll load the dishwasher and do the laundry later. Then I grab my wallet and keys and head out into the fresh morning air.

Joe’s is only a few blocks from my townhouse on Fruit Street, and it’s a pretty walk. Brooklyn Heights is a designated historic district, lined with four and five-story townhouses and brownstones. The oak trees are a vibrant green in spring, butthe short walk doesn’t have its usual invigorating effect. All I can think about, as I push open the glass front door of the coffee shop, is the chasm between me and Jess.

“Good morning,” Daisy chirps from behind the counter.

“Morning.” I sink into my usual seat in the window, where the newspaper waits for me. She always leaves it here, knowing I’ll want to flip through it while I drink my coffee. As the hum of the espresso machine fills the air, I wonder who else she does that for.

“You okay?”

I glance up in surprise. Daisy appears at the table with my latte, and I realize I’ve been staring into space, lost in thought.

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