Am I going too fast? Am I pushing her too hard? Silently, he shook his head. Neither of us is getting any younger. It’s been enough time for both of us to move on. I know I’m good for her. Christina needs a father. Cathee needs a man she can rely on. I can be there for her.
He sighed. How to persuade her was another story. He could sense her pushing him away–even over the phone. What can I do?
Suddenly, the thought came crashing in on him that Cathee might not want to be a second wife. What am I doing? Is this even fair to her? He stared up at the ceiling and thought about Jill. How would she feel about sharing him with Cathee?
He rolled onto his stomach and stuffed a pillow over his head, a useless attempt to shut out his own thoughts. He’d never cared about anyone enough to think about sharing with Jill. Anguished, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge. A couple of bottles of water–the ones that remained after their shared dinner–stared back at him, making him wish he’d stocked something useful. He needed a snack. Instead, he picked up a bottle and untwisted the cap while he walked through his bedroom and opened the drapes. He stared unseeingly out at the city lights.
Juan wasn’t his only problem. He had fallen head over heels in love with Cathee, and he cared for Christina like a daughter. He leaned his head against the cool glass, then closed his eyes. How did this happen? He thought back to the first moment he’d seen her and realized he’d been smitten then.
He hadn’t ever believed in love at first sight. He and Jill had dated for several months before he’d decided he wanted to spend an eternity with her. It wasn’t a choice he regretted, but he certainly hadn’t felt the strike of lightening with her the way he had with Cathee. He shook his head to clear it.
I’ll be what she needs me to be–even if that means letting her go. I don’t ever want her to feel she is second best. I will always love Jill. I will never let that go. He ran a weary hand through his hair. How can I explain to Cathee? When a parent has another child, his love for the first is not reduced. He loves each child differently. I don’t love Cathee the same way I loved Jill. She’s different. I’m different, and it was Jill that taught me what I need to be to help Cathee through her issues.
He pondered on all the breakdowns he’d witnessed from Cathee. She needed someone who understood PTSD. She might have started down the road to healing, but she still had a long way to go. He could be patient and careful. He understood the issues she was facing–even if he hadn’t gone there himself.
He finished his water, then tossed the bottle into the trash by his nightstand. He crawled into his empty bed, stared at the ceiling, and wished he could sleep. As he finally drifted off, images of Jill and Cathee merged into one.