All In With Him (Men of Summer 3)

Leaning back in my chair, I scrub a palm across the nape of my neck, my brain still a mess, like it’s been for the last two months. I don’t know how to find clarity. “How do I do that? I’ve been weighing it, and I’m lost. I know so little about kids. No brother or sister, as you know. I didn’t grow up with cousins. I’ve been a solo ranger, Mom.”

“That’s true. You have. I have to imagine that makes it harder for you. Makes it all seem more mysterious.”

That’s exactly the issue. “How do I know if I’m ready to make that choice someday?”

She lifts her glass, takes a drink of bubbly water. “Do you remember when you first wanted to play baseball?”

“When I was six?”

“Yes.”

“Sort of. I remember wanting to go to the park and hit balls.”

“That was part of it. But even though your father was a minor leaguer, you didn’t want to sign up for a team before you had a go on your own. You would go to our backyard and take practice swings all day. You’d throw balls to your father and me. You wanted to put baseball through its paces before you joined a team. That’s how you are.”

“Are you saying I should carry a doll or whatever they do these days so I get used to kids?”

“No. You don’t need to get a doll. But you do like to know what you’re getting into. You do that when you’re taking something seriously.”

She’s onto something. That’s how I approach the unknown—but the unknown that I’m considering. Funny, it’s how I approached Grant too, in Arizona. When he propositioned me about sleeping together years ago, I weighed his request, turning it over and checking out all the angles. “That sounds like me. But you can’t test out kids.”

“Exactly. That’s probably why you’re so conflicted. You want to be sure of things before you do them, sweetie,” she says, understanding me completely.

“Guess it’s a good thing we won’t accidentally have them,” I deadpan.

She laughs. “That’s definitely a good thing.”

I mull over her advice about practice. “But does that mean I need to go find a friend with kids and babysit? That doesn’t feel quite right either,” I say, frowning, since kids aren’t baseball. And I certainly didn’t test out sex with Grant before I agreed to take him around the bases. So I’m not sure I need practice with kids per se. “I’m not sure that would give me the answer I’m looking for.”

“That’s true. Whether you enjoy watching someone else’s kids doesn’t always tell you if you’ll want your own. And we can’t magically give you a brother or sister, so I don’t know that you’ll ever have the certainty of experience that you might have if you were an older brother.”

I sigh heavily. “So where does that leave me?”

She gives a soft smile. “I can’t tell you if you’re ever going to be ready, and I don’t know that you ever will feel ready like you did about baseball. This is different. But I can say with absolute certainty that I think you’d be amazing at parenting.”

Warmth spreads through me, but so does more doubt. “You really think so? Or are you just saying that because you’re my mom?”

“My job as your mother is to think you’ll be amazing. But I also truly think you will be.” She takes a pause. “Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re determined to learn from the past. Because you have learned from the past. But I also think you’ll be a good father because you have a great partner. That guy loves you soooooo much,” she says, her voice breaking. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears.

“Mom,” I say, switching to her side of the table, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” she chokes out, her voice filled with potholes as tears stream down her face.

“Why are you crying?”

She hides her face against my chest, hiccups and lets out another loud sob. “Because you found someone you love. Someone who loves you back. The night he got hurt? All he wanted was to see you.” Mom lifts her face, meets my eyes. “When I was driving him to your house, he asked if I’d heard from you, and then he said . . .” She stops, takes a moment to catch her breath. “‘I really want to see your son.’ You were all he wanted. Declan, he just loves you with everything he has.”

Grant told me as much that night, but hearing it from another person makes my heart swell for him even more. “I feel the same for him,” I say.

“I know you do. You found the thing that makes you happy in baseball, and the person who makes your life complete in Grant,” she says, in a wobbly voice thick with emotion. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for my child.”