Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(23)

I deposit the balled-up handful of paper into the recycling bin and grab two bottles of water, plus Claire’s pink water bottle with the purple unicorns on it.

I step out into the living room and freeze. Isaac and Claire sit beside each other, LEGOs spread before them, bent over the instruction manual. Isaac points at a page, telling Claire what pieces they will need first, and then Claire puts her good hand on his knee, and he stops talking. She smiles up at him for a few seconds, then turns back to the pieces and begins rifling through them.

Isaac looks up, finds me watching. His eyes shine.

“Thank you,” he mouths.

I don’t know what he’s thanking me for, and I don’t ask. This moment is too beautiful to be interrupted by mere words. There’s so much more happening here, so many emotions running as I watch these two people I’ve known but who didn’t know each other. Family, I think, but the other F word comes screaming into my mind.

Fiancée.

I join Claire and Isaac in their building of a magical dragon and the elves who command it, but I keep reality closer to heart. There’s no use dreaming of something I can never have.

Next summer Isaac will be married, Claire will have a stepmom, and we’ll share custody.

I’ll never have a happy little family, but is it really that big of a letdown? It’s not like I ever thought I would.





I dreamed about Aubrey last night. Her long, dark hair, my hands running through it. She was in my bed, but she was wearing pajamas. Sensible ones. My bedroom door opened, and Claire ran in and jumped into bed with us. She bounced and smiled and told us we were sleeping too late. She didn’t have a cast on her arm.

I know why I had the dream. It’s obvious. I spent the whole day with Aubrey and Claire. I stayed until John came home from a day spent scouting, which I learned was when you go to the place you’re planning to hunt and look around to get a feel for the area. It’s a foreign concept to me, scouting and hunting, but John made it sound interesting. My dad never does anything like that. His hobbies are gardening and golf.

I like talking to John. He has a slower way about him, like he’s evaluating your words carefully before responding, instead of thinking about what he’s going to say while you’re talking. And I can’t help but admire him for being a single dad. Aubrey hasn’t mentioned her mom, or lack thereof, and Claire didn’t reference a grandma. I’m making the leap and assuming she’s not in the picture.

Which I can’t understand. I didn’t understand it when Aubrey told me about her mom the night I met her, and I don’t understand it now. How a parent just leaves a child… It’s unimaginable to me. How can someone walk away from the child they created? How could someone walk away from Aubrey?

Kind, brave, gorgeous Aubrey… She wears her misfortune like a suit of armor. Her face stays so calm, stoic, not revealing anything. But her eyes say much more than her mouth ever could. Speaking of her mouth… She has the prettiest, pinkest lips that twitch when she holds back a smile, which is frequently.

I roll over and groan into my pillow. I’ve thought of Jenna a handful of times since she left. Considering I was going to marry her, I’d say that number should be a lot higher. But Aubrey? She has been rooted in place in my mind since I said goodbye to her last night.

I need to get my head straight before I go to work. When I work, there can be no Aubrey, no Jenna, no problems, no nothing. My focus must be singular. That’s why I can’t miss my workout today.

I jump out of bed, pull on running shorts and a T-shirt, grab my keys and phone, and head out. When my headphones are in place, I turn on something loud and frenetic.

Electronic music pounds in my head, and I pound the pavement. My route takes me a few blocks up and over, through a park, and, even though it’s barely light outside, I think of Claire and whether she’d like it there. Don’t all kids enjoy playing at parks?

I pass the swings and something that looks like it spins if pushed. Maybe in a few months, when her arm is healed, I can bring her here. There aren't very many kids in my neighborhood, but it's safe and clean and the few neighbors I've met are nice.

When I get home, I shower and eat breakfast. I have appointments all morning and a surgery this afternoon. Same goes for the next three days.

Scrubs on, I head for my car. My phone dings with a text message. I halt for a second when I see her name.

Claire is asking for you. Dinner tomorrow night?

I type out my response, pausing to finish before I get in my car and turn it on. I drive to work with a weird feeling in my stomach. I know I’m excited to see Claire, and I wonder if any of this excitement has to do with seeing her mother too.

I’m beat. It’s late, I’m tired, and I want a shower. I’d also like to erase the images of the small child who needed surgery late this afternoon. Right as I finished up my scheduled surgery, a nurse came to tell me there was an emergency. She handed me the x-rays, the fracture in his leg easy to see. What wasn’t so clear was how the injury occurred. That’s the part that has me feeling like I’ve been run over. I keep telling myself I did my job, and Child Protection Services will do their job now.

I need food, drink, shower, bed. In that order.

When I turn the corner of my neighborhood, I see my driveway isn’t empty like it’s supposed to be. Suddenly all those basic needs just got a whole lot further from my reach.