Page 19 of Protecting the Boundary
It’s the first time in a long time I’ve heard someone use Sydney’s name and the present tense in the same sentence. My heart tightens in my chest.
“And she’s definitely proud of you, and how great you are with Kaylee. I have zero doubts about that,” she adds.
We sit there for a while longer, neither saying a word until the lump of emotion in my throat finally subsides enough for me to speak.
“Thank you, Meredith.”
When I look over at her, her gaze is already waiting for me. She offers me a small smile, but doesn’t say anything else.
We sit together in silence, staring at the stars, at the vastness of the universe, and yet for the first time in a long time, the loneliness that has held me in a choke hold is nowhere to be found.
TWELVE
On my first day off, I decide to get away from Romel’s house for the day. Something has shifted between us, especially after last night under the stars. Unfortunately, that moment alone together did nothing to stymie my attraction to him. If anything, hearing how much he still loves his wife just made me realize what a loyal man he is. Three years he’s been alone, but he didn’t run off and try to drown himself in booze or women to forget his pain. I know how popular the Fierce Four are and have no doubts that he has women throw themselves at him on a regular basis, and yet he’s remained loyal to his wife. There’s something very admirable about that level of dedication and devotion.
But it also made it painfully obvious that this crush that has been growing for him will always be one-sided. I know from personal experience that a man in love with his wife that much will never let her go, even after death—my dad never did.
As soon as I pull up to my dad’s house, I let out a breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding. I get out of the car and head inside without knocking.
“That you, Meredith?” he calls out from the kitchen.
“Yeah, Dad,” I call back, dropping my purse on the table by the front door. I head back into the kitchen of my childhood home.
I asked him once why he didn’t move if it was so hard to think about Mom, but he said he wouldn’t lose the memories if that was all he had left. I compare my dad to Romel, and start to really see their similarities. Is that why Romel hasn’t moved out of his house? I’ve seen the pictures of Sydney on the wall. I know he tries to keep her memory alive for Kay, but how much of it is for himself too? After our conversation last night, I wonder if everything he does is for himself as much as he claims it’s for his daughter.
“Something smells good,” I say, walking into the kitchen.
Dad sticks his cheek out for a kiss, his hands busy jarring jam. “I went to the farmers’ market and couldn’t resist. The raspberries looked great, and I know how much you love raspberry jam.”
“Need any help?” I ask, already washing my hands, assuming his answer will be yes.
He puts the pot down now that the jar is full and looks at me, his brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”
I grab a spoon and take a scoop. “Yeah, can’t I just help my dad make my favorite jam?”
“Of course you can, but you look stressed.”
After blowing on it to cool it down, I stick the spoonful in my mouth. “Mmm, this is good.”
He shakes his head. “Fine, if you want to deflect, then sure, you can help. But remember, you’re going to tell me anyway; might as well just get it out of the way.”
“I don’t tell you everything, you know.” Even though it’s true I don’t tell himeverything, I do usually tell him the bigthings. And he’s never failed to miss when something was on my mind.
But my dad’s greatest superpower is knowing when to let the silence linger—and that I’ll always fill it. “Hey, Dad?”
He smiles. “Yeah?”
Dammit. Swallowing my pride, I tell him what’s going on. “The family I’m nannying for is actually a single dad. Kaylee is three and her mom died just a week after she was born.”
Dad stops everything he’s doing and faces me, his brows slanted with pain. I can only imagine what this conversation is going to bring up for him, and maybe it’s not fair for me to ask, but we’ve always had a good relationship, and there’s no one else I would want to talk to about this.
“I love Kaylee already. She’s such a sweetheart and so incredibly smart, but I really don’t want to overstep. It’s clear having me there has been kind of hard on him. I guess I’m just wondering what kind of help you would’ve wanted when it was just you and me? I don’t want to step on his toes, and I feel like the situation is kind of…delicate.”
Dad stops what he’s doing and leans against the counter, facing me. “What have I always told you about conflict or what to do when you’re feeling uncertain in a situation, especially when it involves another person?”
“Talk it out,” I tell him. My dad has drilled the importance—and power—of communication into my head for as long as I’ve been alive.Though, that doesn’t mean I’ve always been able to follow his advice. Sometimes communicating is easier said than done.
He nods. “I’m not the person you should be asking this question. If you want to know what would help him without you stepping on his toes, you need to have that conversation with him.”
