Page 133 of Playing for Keeps
“Theo,” I called.
“Daddy!” Theo stopped bouncing and climbed down off the trampoline. He ran over and gave me a huge hug. Which was nice. I really needed a hug from my son right now.
I walked back inside the house with Theo and picked up his school bag. Alison was standing with her arms folded around herself. “Say thank you to Nan and Grandad,” I prompted Theo.
“Thank you,” he said obligingly.
Alison stared at him for a moment, before unfreezing and coming over to hug him.
She raised her gaze to me, and I stared defiantly back. I was done sucking up to Alison, trying to get her to like me.
This was who I was. I was the father of her grandson. I was in love with her son. No matter what happened going forward, she was going to have to handle those facts.
Alison gave Theo a tight squeeze before letting go. “You’re always welcome here Theo,” she said softly.
For a second, I saw a vulnerable look on her face and some of my anger drained away.
She was a parent. She was trying to do what she thought was best for her family.
“We’ll see you guys later.” Anthony gave Theo a hug and sent a sad smile in my direction.
As I got Theo into the car and checked he was safely buckled in, Alison’s words echoed in my head.
Let him go, Ethan. Let him go.
As I drove, the night Theo had been conceived slid into my mind.
I’d always thought the story of that night was simple. Luke had been in Australia with his father. I’d been at the pub and Char had come over to talk to me. I was drunk. I’d gone home with her because she didn’t want to be alone, and made the mistake of hooking up with her. End of story.
But now my mind drifted back to earlier in the evening when Luke had sent through the photo of himself and his dad outside the Sydney Opera House.
At first, my reaction had simply been happiness at seeing a picture of Luke. But a pit had grown in my stomach throughout the evening, and I’d looked at the photo time and time again.
Luke was on a trip to Australia with his loving and devoted father. They were going to see an opera together. He’d probably understand it, whereas in my family, high culture was watchingMarried at First Sightand throwing something at the TV when the contestants pissed us off.
When Char and I got back to her house, I sat on the couch and blearily stared at the Hunter family portrait on the wall, a good-looking Luke grinning down at me.
Luke had always seemed too good for me.
Smarter than me.
Richer than me.
Better looking than me.
A better rugby player.
A better friend.
When Char put her hand on my thigh, I stared down at it for a moment, then looked up again at perfect Luke in the middle of his perfect family.
And then I turned to her.
Had I subconsciously self-sabotaged, knowing that if I went there with Char, that it would shut down all possibilities with Luke and I’d get to stop wondering and hoping? Stop worrying if I was good enough for Luke, if he felt the same way about me as I felt about him.
That had been me, in my own fucked-up way, trying to let Luke go. Because I’d thought, deep down, I didn’t deserve him.
Fuck, this wasn’t just naval gazing. I felt as if I was x-raying my heart.
