He drops the arm, takes one look at me, and says, “Relax.”
I point a finger at him. “You mother a daughter alone for fifteen years and then have to agree to let her meet her scumbag father and only then tell me to relax.”
I’m about to march past him to go hug my daughter, but he grabs me by the shoulders, gently but firmly. Lucas stares right into my eyes, saying, “What I meant was, you can’t go in there looking like you’re about to hyperventilate. You’ve been the single most important person in Tegan’s life since she was born, and she already feels guilty about…” He hesitates. “…needing more.”
Lucas’ words stab me straight in the heart. The thought that, no matter how hard I try, I’m not enough for my daughter has been tormenting me ever since the meet-the-estranged-father drama started. “But you’re doing this for her,” Lucas continues. “And she needs to know you’re on board. Take two deep breaths. I promise, it’ll help.”
Still holding me with both hands, he waits for me to comply. I do.
“Let the tension from your shoulders go,” Lucas continues, giving my upper arms a gentle rub. “Take a deep breath in…”
He keeps guiding me through some relaxation techniques, and I try to follow his instructions, but honestly, I’m more distracted by the deep sound of his voice, the way his lips move, the touch of his hands on my arms… And why do his eyes have to be so blue?
And shouldn’t this exercise make my breathing even? It’s getting more ragged by the minute—and the fast pace has nothing to do with anxiety.
Lucas must pick up on the weird vibe, because he lets me go and takes a step back, coughing out an embarrassed, “You good?”
“Yep,” I say, still a bit out of breath but at least no longer ridden with nerves. “All good here.”
I straighten my jacket and walk across the hall and into his office.
The moment I step in, Tegan barrels into me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you, Mom.”
I caress her hair like I used to do when she was little. “Shhh, it’s okay.” Emotions threaten to overwhelm me, but I don’t get the comfort of holding on to my daughter any longer because she lets go and bounces around the room, clapping her hands. “I’m finally going to meet my dad!”
Lucas, in the meantime, has followed me in and is back to sitting in his shrink chair. And for once, I give in and take a seat on the “patient” couch. Tegan flops next to me and I wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“How is this going to work?” I ask Lucas.
Tegan answers instead. “We’re going to Boston. Dad has agreed to see me outside office hours so I won’t lose any more school days.”
A ball of acid explodes in my stomach, both at hearing Tegan call that man “Dad” so nonchalantly, and at learning they’ve already reached out to him without me being present.
I glare at Shrek, trying to stay calm. “You contacted him?”
Once again, Tegan answers. “It was my idea, Mom. And I didn’t tell him who I was; I just asked for an appointment. He thinks I’m a prospective student and has agreed to see me.”
With a strained smile plastered on my lips, I turn to her. “When?”
“Saturday, two weeks from now.”
Over-cheerfully, I say, “I guess we’re going to Boston, then.”
Tegan’s smile falters, and she throws a glance at Lucas and then back at me. “Actually…”
“Yes?” I ask. Whatever she’s going to say at this point can’t be any worse than the news she’s already dropped on me like a lead balloon.
“I’d rather go with Luke.”
I was wrong. Rejection hurts every single time. But I keep my features sculpted into a polite smile as I ask, “Why?”
“You and Dad have history, and I don’t want this to be about the past and the two of you. I want it to be about me.”
“I’m sure Dr. Keller has better things to do with his weekends.”
“He’s already agreed to take me.”
On the one hand, I’m impressed Lucas would go to such lengths for my daughter. Is he like that with all his patients? If so, they’re lucky to have him. On the other hand, I can’t help but feel like the odd man out. Like they’ve conspired against me and formed this little secret club I’m not a member of.
“We could’ve gone this weekend,” Tegan continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “but Luke already had another date from the agency scheduled.”
I have no right to be mad at him. Lucas is helping us, he’s going above and beyond whatever might be expected of him professionally. And yet, it feels like my daughter is slipping away from me, a full two and a half years before I was prepared to let her go once she went to college. And since I can’t exactly blame Tegan for wanting to meet her father, the only one left to lash out at is her meddling psychologist.
“Another date?” I say. “Wow, you roll through them quickly.”
Tegan frowns. “Mom!”
But Lucas completely ignores my sarcasm and simply says, “Jennifer is obsessed with finding me ‘the one.’ Apparently, I’m a difficult customer and she loves a challenge.” His lips part in a self-deprecating and, annoyingly, dashing grin.
I follow his lead and agree to a silent truce. “You mean besides being a difficult neighbor?”
Lucas looks serious now as he asks, “Are you okay with me taking Tegan to Boston?”
What other choice did you leave me? I want to ask.
In his eyes, I read that he’s heard me even if I haven’t spoken, and he’s sorry for blindsiding me with this.
His stare seems to also be telling me: It’s better for your daughter if I go…
Defeated, I give the only answer left to me. “Yes, you can take her.”
This earns me another crushing
