I’d had a long-time crush on Vanessa since we first met, and to this day, I could never tell her

how I feel about her. I’d made plenty of excuses as to why I shouldn’t confess my feelings, until

Dennis goaded me.

Reluctantly, I wrote a letter with all my feelings put into it—hoping to tell her someday... but that day never seemed to come. But now it didn’t matter if I was ready or not. The party wasn’t just a group of friends and co-workers having a little fun together; it was Vanessa’s going-away party. There was a high chance-I would never see her again.

It’d been days since I woke from my accident as Vanessa’s baby. 

Why did this happen to me? And why the child of Vanessa, of all people? Is this punishment for something I did—or rather, didn’t do? 

I was laying on a play pad in my nursery as Vanessa watched me. What she thought was infant curiosity was my feeble attempt to crawl, or at the very least to lift my neck. 

I didn't get much alone time with Vanessa, because she was always busy with work. Most of our outings were as a trio with That Man. But Vanessa and I built a tradition when I turned five: every Sunday, without deviation, Vanessa and I would go to the movies. Just the two of us.

Vanessa went to work early the next day and I didn’t have school, so it was just THAT guy at home with me. We sat on the couch watching TV together because, even though I feel incredibly awkward around him and had yet to claim him as my dad, I still kept the peace. He also never learned how to connect with me, which clearly bothered him over the last 14 years.

I went and opened the front door, to find Summer, looking as bubbly as ever with a bright smile on her face. As soon as I let her in and closed the door behind us, she spun around to hug me and planted several kisses all over my face. 

I couldn’t help but smile at her as I pulled away from her. “You’re overly excited today.”

I tossed and turned on the sofa bed, next to a sleeping Lee. The[PC3]  dynamic between Lee and his mother had been so off that I couldn’t stop ruminating over it. Even thinking back to the night of our first date and how they interacted when she picked him up. His body language and demeanor in her presence was so strangely intimate—like how I would hope he would be with me.