November 9 - Hoover Colleen (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗

It took a few months to finally accept that maybe my goal wasn’t to be an actress anymore. People change. They grow. Passions evolve, and mine evolved into wanting to help others develop their own talents.

I looked into schools all over the country, but with my mother, Amber, and yes, Ben, being in Los Angeles, it was a no-brainer for which city I ended up choosing.

As much as I question my decision for not agreeing to be with him last year, I know it was for the best in the long run. I’ve never been more at peace with my career choice as I am right now, and I’m not sure it would have happened had Ben been in the picture. So even though mistakes were made, I don’t have any regrets. I think things are working out exactly as they should.

But as Ben and I can both probably attest, a lot can change in a year, so I’m terrified he may have changed his mind. He may not even want to be with me like he did last year. He may still be so pissed at me, he doesn’t even show up.

But that’s not really why I’m nervous.

I’m nervous because I know he will. He always shows up. But this year, I have no idea where we stand. We left on really bad terms last year and I take complete blame, but he has to understand that if the shoe were on the other foot, he would have done the same for me. If I had made such a huge declaration in the midst of so much suffering, he would have acknowledged that maybe I wasn’t in the best place to make such a life-altering decision. And he certainly can’t fault me for encouraging him to stay and help out his family. His brother had just died. His sister-in-law needed him. His nephew would need him. It was the right thing. He would have done the same for me. He just took it as hard as he did because he was already having such an emotional week.

I almost feel like showing up unannounced last year was a bad idea. I feel like my time there did more damage than it did good.

My thoughts are interrupted when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I look up, expecting to see Ben standing there. And I do . . . but it’s not just Ben. It’s Ben and . . . a baby.

His nephew.

I know this immediately because he has Ben’s eyes. Kyle’s eyes.

All of this is coming at me at once and I try to process each thing separately. First, the fact that Ben showed up. And he’s smiling at me as I stand up to hug him, so that’s enough to elicit a huge sigh of relief.

Second, his arm is wrapped around this baby boy who is perched up on his hip, leaning his head against Ben’s chest. Seeing him with his nephew like this assures me that both of us made the right choice last year, whether he agreed to it at the time or not.

I was hoping to meet his nephew at some point today, but I thought I’d have a chance to talk to Ben first, one-on-one, about how we left things last year. But I can adapt. Especially for a baby as cute as this one.

He’s grinning shyly at me and I can see so much of Jordyn in him. He’s almost equal parts Jordyn and Kyle. I wonder how that is for her . . . to see so much of Kyle when she looks at her son.

When Ben releases me from the hug, he smiles down at the little boy. “Fallon, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Oliver.” He picks up Oliver’s tiny wrist and waves it at me. “Oliver, this is Fallon.”

I lift my hand and Oliver immediately reaches his arms out to me. Shocked, I let him come to me, pulling him against me the same way Ben was holding him. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a baby, but I’d much rather Ben’s nephew want me to hold him than cry if I tried.

“He likes the pretty ladies,” Ben says with a wink, releasing him once I have hold of him. “Let me grab a high chair.”

Ben walks away, so I take a seat with Oliver, setting him on the table in front of me. “Aren’t you a cutie,” I say to him. And he is. He seems like a very happy baby and that makes me happy for Jordyn. But still, sadness seeps in when I think about Kyle never being able to meet his son. I push the thought out of my head when Ben returns with a high chair.

He pushes it against the edge of the booth and then secures Oliver in it. I didn’t even notice the diaper bag Ben had over his shoulder until he removes it to take a seat. He fishes through the bag until he finds a container of snacks, and then he sets some Cheerios out on the table in front of Oliver, but not before wiping it down first. The whole time, he talks to Oliver in a respectful, peer type of way. He doesn’t indulge in baby talk, and I’d be lying if I said it isn’t adorable seeing him interact with an infant like they’re on the same level.

Ben really has this baby thing down. It’s impressive. And . . . kind of sexy.

“How old is he now?”

“Ten months,” Ben says. “He was born New Year’s Day. A few weeks early, but he was fine.”

“So the whole world celebrates his birthday with fireworks, just like they do yours?”

Ben grins. “You know, I never even thought about that.” Oliver plays with the Cheerios in front of him, completely content with not being the center of attention. Which is a relief, because maybe Ben and I will be able to have a serious conversation despite being in the company of his nephew.

Ben reaches his hand across the table and squeezes mine, and my chest heats up from the small gesture. “It’s really good to see you, Fallon,” he says, brushing his thumb over mine. “Really good.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes me want to lunge across this table and kiss him right here. He doesn’t hate me. He isn’t mad at me. I feel like I just took my first breath of pure air in a year.

I flip my hand over to hold his, but as soon as I do, he pulls away to push Oliver’s snacks closer to him. “I’m sorry I had to bring him. Jordyn had to work today and the sitter canceled last minute.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. And honestly, it is. I love watching him interact with Oliver. It adds another layer to him that I haven’t witnessed before. “How is Jordyn?”

“Good,” Ben says, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself of this, too. “Really good. She’s such a great mom. Kyle would be proud.” He says the last sentence quieter than the rest. “What about you? How’s New York?”

I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t feel now is the right time to bring it up, so I avoid the question. “This is always so weird,” I say. “Seeing you for the first time in a year. I never know what to say or do.” I’m lying. It’s never been weird before, but thanks to last year, it feels very awkward today.

He reaches across the table and places his hand over my wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m nervous, too,” he says reassuringly. His eyes drop to our hands, and then he pulls his back and clears his throat. It’s cute how he’s trying to be respectful in front of Oliver. “Have you ordered yet?” He picks up the menu and stares at it silently for a moment, but I can tell he isn’t reading it.

He’s more nervous than he should be, but we did leave things off in an awkward place last year. I worry that it isn’t nerves plaguing him, but maybe a little bit of bitterness. I know I hurt him last year, but surely he’s had time to understand why I did what I did. And hopefully he knows that walking away from him when he was in so much pain was probably harder on me than it was on him. I’ve spent the entire last year with a heavy heart because it’s constantly on my mind.

We both order something to eat and he makes sure to add a side of mashed potatoes for Oliver, which I find adorable. I try to alleviate our nerves with small talk. I tell him about how I decided my new goal in life is to open a talent studio. He smiled and said I was no longer, “Fallon the Transient.” I asked him what my new name was and he looked at me thoughtfully and said, “Fallon the Teacher.” And I loved the sound of that.

He said he graduated college this past May and it made me sad that I wasn’t there for that, but I know there will be plenty of milestones in the future. I’ll go to his graduation ceremony when he gets his advanced degree, because he says that’s what he’s working toward now. He got a job doing freelance for an online magazine and decided to further his career with a master’s in technical writing.