Page 30 of Alfie: Part One
There was never going to be a Christmas where our families celebrated the holiday together. Our wedding was the one and only day everyone had showed up. Which was kind of poetic too, because it was the story of my life. Everyone came together at church. Always church.
I had more memories of the empty square next to our church than I did of our first apartment. Soup kitchens, coat drives, Sunday Mass, holidays, christenings, weddings, funerals—hell, Ma’s bible study and book club. All church-related. As a kid, I’d tagged along. As I’d grown older, I’d waited outside or hung out with a friend before Ma and I took the bus home together.
I was fucking tired.
Somehow, I had to find the balls to apologize to West for the pain I’d caused him—and sooner rather than later. I was a blurt-it-out kind of guy, so once I settled on something, I wanted to get shit in motion. Even if that included watching the love of my life move on.
As much as it broke me, I had to accept that he already had.
I’d brought it on myself.
Moving forward, though… Fuck, I had to be done donning all these masks.
A heavy weight sank down into the pit of my stomach, and a wave of grief washed over me. Seriously, I had to come to grips with this today? Just like that? I had to see shit clearly all of a sudden?
Living in denial had at least allowed me to hope against hope.
Living in denial had given me a line of defense.
Fuck, this hurt.
I rubbed a hand over my mouth and swallowed hard.
Good thing the barbecue at Finn’s place was tomorrow. I was gonna immerse myself in his family life as quickly as possible and make them my security blanket. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I could watch West eventually introduce his new man to our kids. But with plenty of distraction and minimal time spent alone, hopefully the agony would fade a little.
Before I reached West’s street, I popped an Altoid and dug out my spare deodorant from the glovebox. It was definitely easier to apply when I was wearing a tee instead of a fucking button-down.
No more hiding. Aside from cigarette smoke. I didn’t need Ellie more curious.
I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.
As soon as I stepped out, I could hear laughter from the other side of the house, and it was Trip.
I bet he didn’t wanna leave the pool.
Knowing West wouldn’t hear me knocking if he was out back, I rang the doorbell instead.
Even the fucking doorbell sounded snooty.
I’d grown up with a broken buzzer. Out here, you got a fucking symphony.
“Daddy’s here!” I heard Ellie squeal.
I smiled, and a breath gusted out of me. Now they were mine for a week. Thank fuck. Unlike West, my schedule during the day was flexible, so the kids were stuck with me. When West had them, he dropped them off at various summer activities and day camps—which was fun for them, of course. Even Trip, who’d attended an art class and workshops. All private, of course. Ellie was a social butterfly, so she requested the places her friends went to.
“I’m not telling you again, Noelle,” West said. Oh, the stern Daddy voice. I’d been on the receiving end of that in the bedroom.
“Fiiiine!” Ellie whined in return.
I waited a few more seconds, and then West opened the door, creating a draft. Fuck, he must’ve been in the pool too. It wasn’t often I got to see him in his swim trunks anymore.
“Sorry, we’re running a little behind,” he said stoically. “I’ll get them ready.”
“It’s fine,” I answered on autopilot. Then I cleared my throat and noticed he wasn’t making eye contact. “No rush.”
He furrowed his brow and let me in. “Do, uh…do you want coffee, or…?”
Oh.