“Did you ride your motorcycle over here?” I ask Declan as we head to the kitchen.
He raises his eyebrows. “What makes you think I have a motorcycle?”
I nod at his outfit as I put Hope in her swing. “I dunno, the leather jacket, the boots, the beard. I have a friend who reads books about bikers, and you look exactly like the guy from the cover.”
Declan laughs. “Okay, you caught me. I had a bike for a long time. But I got rid of it when I had my daughter. Figured I shouldn’t take so many risks, since I want to be around to see her grow up.”
That gets my attention. “You have a daughter?”
He nods. “She’s three. She lives with her mother in Portsmouth half the time.”
I glance at Mom. She’s smiling to herself as she fills the water glasses.
All throughout dinner, Mom and Declan laugh and talk and brush their hands against each other’s and smile dopily across the table. Declan asks me a lot of questions—and he doesn’t stick to the safe subjects, like school and work.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single dad at your age, Ryden,” he says as Hope starts fussing. I get up to make her a bottle. “It’s hard enough for me, and I only have my daughter every other week. And I’m thirty-seven. How has it been for you?” He’s looking at me like he really wants to know the answer.
“It sucks,” I say completely, one hundred percent honestly, and everyone laughs. “But I’m figuring it out. Trying to, anyway. Mom’s been amazing.”
He looks at her but responds to me. “She is amazing, isn’t she?”
“Oh, stop,” Mom says, brushing her bangs back from her face. “I’m only doing what anyone else would do in my situation.”
“No, you’re not,” Declan and I say at the same time, and everyone laughs again.
I set Hope in my lap, and she latches onto her bottle right away.
Mom beams, like she can’t believe how well the evening is going. Honestly, neither can I. Is this what it’s like to have two parents? Not that Declan is my father or that I would ever want him to pretend to be. But the whole “two adults, two kids, sitting around the dinner table, laughing and sharing stories, everyone getting along swimmingly” scenario. It’s so incredibly foreign.
Declan starts clearing the table as Mom sets out the pie he brought. Even in these simple, basic actions, you can see how happy they are.
He knows everything, and he still loves her. I don’t know much about his story, apart from the fact that he has a daughter, but I bet he’s told her all about his shit too, whatever it is, and she still loves him. It’s so much easier when there’re no secrets. When you’re with the right person, at least.
Which makes me think of Joni again.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. It goes straight to voice mail.
I wish she were here with us. I wish she would look at me again the way Declan looks at my mom.
I miss her. And it’s not about the sex, and it’s not about pretending my life is different than it is. That didn’t really work anyway. It’s about her.
It’s her stupid jokes and weird, made-up games and her bag full of candy and her wacky outfits and how she meets people wherever she goes. It’s the way she’s always blowing her hair out of her eyes instead of pushing it back with her hand or securing it with a clip. It’s how she skips instead of runs, and how she’s so badass in so many ways, with the tattoos and whatnot, but also into ridiculously girly things like romance novels and unicorns.
I miss her magic room. I miss her magic, period.
For the first time, I see it: my and Joni’s relationship has absolutely nothing to do with Meg. Joni isn’t a means of escape. She’s her own destination—someone to go to, not to use as a means to get away.
And I completely blew it.
“Mom,” I say, my voice coming out in more of a whisper than I thought it would.
She’s pulled her chair close to Declan’s, and she’s feeding him spoonfuls of pie and ice cream. “Yeah, bud?”