by LK Farlow
Though, it wasn’t much of a meeting, was it? Regardless, I could have done more. Made a bigger effort. Instead, I acted like he wasn’t there.
Chalking it up to shock, I vow to make up for it today. Right after I shower. And maybe have some coffee, too.
Thirty minutes later, I step into the hallway dressed and ready. I’m wearing my lucky suit—never lost a case in it. My face is freshly shaved and my hair gelled. In short, I’m ready for battle. And by battle, I mean to meet my son and grill Kelsey about where the fuck she’s been the last seven years.
Only, when I step out into the living room, Cruz is all alone. “Where’s your mom?” I ask. But he doesn’t reply.
“Cruz, where is your mom?” I come around to the front of the couch.
Still, nothing.
“Listen, kid, I need to know where your mom is. Can you help me out?”
With small movements, he nudges an envelope across the couch cushion toward me. Leaning down, I grab it and run my finger beneath the flap. Inside is a single sheet of paper folded in half. I slide the page out and read it.
Colton,
Yes, he’s yours. I left after finding out I was pregnant. I planned on aborting the kid, but…fuck, I don’t know. Call it a crisis of conscience. Whatever it was, I couldn’t do it.
I’m sure you’re reading this and judging me. But I’m not cut out to be a mom. I tried, but it’s just not for me. He doesn’t talk, or won’t talk. I don’t really know. But I’m done. It’s your turn now.
All of his important shit (birth certificate, social security card, etc.) is in his bag.
-Kelsey
Another fucking note—only this time, instead of leaving me, she left…my kid.
“Fuck!” I shout, before I think better of it.
I spin to Cruz. My throat constricts at the sight of him folded in on himself, with his knees to his chest and his forehead pressed to his knees.
Great. Now he’s probably scared of me. “I-I’m sorry for yelling,” I tell him, scrubbing a hand over my face as I sway on my feet before collapsing down onto the couch beside my son.
He shrugs. At least I know he can understand me.
“Can you talk?” I ask, hoping for…I don’t even know what.
Again, he shrugs. I sigh.
“Are you hungry?”
A nod.
“Okay, then.” I head into the kitchen, wishing like hell I had some of those chocolate chip cheesecake muffins to offer him instead of oatmeal and eggs.
Shit. Does he have any allergies? I turn around and stride back into the living room to retrieve his bag.
His one, single bag. This woman dropped him off with one meager bag. I dump it, cataloging the contents: one pair of pants, two pairs of underwear, a shirt, a single pair of mismatched socks, and all of his important paperwork shoved into a sandwich bag.
Anger like nothing I’ve ever known courses through me, but I suppress it. My outburst earlier scared Cruz, and there’s no way in hell I’m having my son fear me.
As I sort through the papers, I don’t see anything mentioning allergies, but seeing as his mother dropped him off with a virtual stranger—father or not—I don’t exactly trust her maternal instincts.
“Second thought, let’s go out. We’ll get breakfast on the way…” My words trail off as I realize he’ll have to come to work with me. “Let me just make a phone call, okay?”
He nods, still seated where I found him this morning.
I retreat to my bedroom and dial West. “What?” he grumbles into the phone, his voice still weighted with sleep.
“I need your help.”
There’s rustling and then, “At six in the morning?”
“6:05, actually.”
“Colton!” he growls.
“Listen, man, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Kelsey turned up here at like three in the morning—”
“Kelsey…like the Kelsey who almost destroyed your life?”
“That’s dramatic. I’m as much to blame, but, yes. Her.”
“Why?” he asks, suddenly awake and alert.
“If you’d stop interrupting, you’d know.” I pause, wanting to make sure West is ready to listen, because repeating myself is not something I enjoy on a good day, and this is decidedly not a good day. “Anyway, she showed up last night with her kid. My kid.”
West chokes. “I’m sorry, did you say your kid?”
“Yes. My son. His name is Cruz.”
“And he’s yours?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s what I said. Look, can you meet me at my office?”
“Sure, man.”
“Great. Wait! Do five year olds need a car seat or anything?” I ask, cringing at just how unprepared I am to be a father.
“It depends on his height and weight. Most likely he should be in a booster with a five-point harness.”
“Fuck.”
“Take a breath, man. Are you sure she didn’t leave one?”
“I don’t see one anywhere. Just a duffel bag. And you, know, a kid.”
“Look around.”
Humoring him, I walk back into the living room. Cruz is still on the couch where I left him, staring at the wall. “Hang on, West.”
I grab the Fire remote from the hearth and hand it to Cruz. “You like TV?” He nods. “I’ve got Netflix, Prime, and Hulu. Watch whatever you want…well, you know…something appropriate.”
West chuckles. “Good parenting talk, man.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, resuming my search. “I don’t see it anywhere.”
“Check the hall.”
“I just said I didn’t see it anywhere. I would definitely see a car seat in my hallway.”
“The outside hall, idiot.”
I open my front door and sure enough, tucked against the façade of my condo, is a booster seat that looks like it’s seen better days. “Good call. Any idea how to put this fucker in my car?”
“YouTube is your friend. Watch a video or two and you’ll have it in no time.”
We hang up, with the promise to meet at my office in an hour. Which means I only have a few minutes to figure out how to install this thing and get out the door.
12
Ashley
“How are things?” Mally asks, her voice a comfort, even through the phone.
“Meh.”
“Ash, I need more than meh. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know. Things are…things.”
My best friend huffs. “Start talking or I’ll drive my pregnant ass back to Mississippi—”
“You realize that’s incentive for me not to talk, right?”
“Ashley!”
I click around on my computer, pulling up my business’s Facebook page. There are hundreds of notifications—all for comments from Megan Grace and her bitch brigade, no doubt. I also have twenty new ratings, all 1-star, along with a slew of messages mean enough to make Draco Malfoy cry.
“Hard, things are hard. I can pretty much feel my dream slipping away, all because of one batshit bride. I am lusting after my lawyer and stress baking daily.”
“I’ve been following the comments. Reporting them, too. Pretty sure she’s a witch, though, because for every comment I report, four new ones pop up.”
“Oh, she’s definitely a witch—with a capital B.”
“Has Mister Hot Lawyer made any progress?”
I groan. “I have to meet him in an hour, actually. I sent over her image gallery, along with our contract and screenshots, on Wednesday.”
“Hmm. Maybe you’ll get to start the weekend with good news.”
Mallory’s hopefulness bolsters my own. “Maybe.”
“Shoot! I gotta go, Duke just walked in the door with lunch.”
“Tell Officer Kincaid hello for me.”
“Will do. Love you big!”
“Love you bigger,” I say, ending the call.
I park a block away from Colton’s office, planning to hit up Bru on my way over
for an iced vanilla-lavender latte. At the last minute, I grab him a coffee, too. He always drinks it plain at his office, but with his sweet tooth, I decide to take a chance and order him a Milky Way latte.
With both beverages in hand, I set off for his office, hope and terror clashing within my chest. If he has anything other than good news for me…
No! I suck down a sip of my drink and squash that train of thought. Negativity begets negativity, and I’m positive I’m in the right. I refuse to even entertain the notion that Megan Grace is going to best me.
“I brought coff—” My words hit a wall when I walk in to find a young boy in ill-fitting clothes sitting on the couch in the waiting area, with no adults in sight. He looks no older than five or six, has golden skin, blue eyes, and hair the color of caramel. “Hey there, what’s your name?”
He looks up at me, mild interest sparking in his gaze, but he doesn’t tell me his name.
I deposit our drinks on the table and take a seat in the chair across from him. “Are you here with your mom or dad?”
His nod is nearly imperceptible.
Colton’s meeting before me must have run over. “Have you been waiting here for a long time?” I ask.
Another nod.
This poor kid has to be bored out of his mind. There’s not a single thing in this waiting area to entertain him. You know, unless children enjoy law books and Time Magazine.
“Would you like to play a game on my phone?”
He shakes his head.
“What about books—do you like books?”
His blue eyes brighten.
I fish my Kindle out of my purse and pull up the store. “Do you like adventure?” I pause to watch his response between each question. “Fantasy? What about Dr. Seuss?”
He shrugs after each, so I settle on Seuss, because what kid doesn’t like Dr. Seuss?
“May I sit by you?” I ask, not wanting to make the little dude feel uncomfortable.
He pats the cushion next to him with his small hand.
I situate myself on the couch and download Green Eggs and Ham to my Kindle.
We finish it and dive straight in to The Lorax, which has the little cutie grinning and giggling. The sound of his innocent, sweet laughter has me doing the same, and all too soon we’re both laughing fools.
Colton appears in the doorway, an odd look in his eyes. “What’s going on out—oh, hey, you’re here.”
West peeks his head out from behind the blond man and my curiosity prickles. My pint-sized friend said he was here with his parents—but neither of the men before me fit the bill. Maybe his parents are here, too?
Ignoring the two men, my little buddy tugs on my shirt. “More,” he whispers, his voice a barely audible murmur.
“Sure—”
“Did he just speak to you?” Colton asks harshly, cutting me off. The boy scoots closer to me; instinctively, I take his little hand in mine.
There’s obviously far more happening here than meets the eye. “We’re reading,” I say firmly, as if it’s answer enough.
“Ashley.” Colton’s long fingers wrap around the doorframe in a white-knuckle grip. “A word?”
I grin up at him. “Sure.” And then down at my new friend. “Right after we read this next book.” I download Horton Hears a Who and begin reading the heartwarming tale out loud.
From the corner of my eye, I see West shoulder past his friend and settle into the chair I vacated earlier. Colton, however, remains rooted to the spot, his stare burning a hole into the side of my face.
By the time we reach the end of the story, the little dude is nestled into my side, sleeping soundly. “What’s going on?” I ask softly, as not to wake him. “Where are his parents?”
Neither man answers immediately.
West leans back in his chair, his mouth pulled into an anticipatory smirk. “Well, his mom skipped town.”
Colton pinches the bridge of his nose and drops heavily into the chair beside his friend. “He’s mine.”
The pistons in my mind misfire. “Your what?”
“My son,” Colton says, straightening in his chair, his blue eyes hard on my green.
I swallow roughly.
My soulmate has a son. For a split-second, sadness engulfs me—sadness that someone else gave him the greatest gift there is—but just as quickly a radiant burst of happiness replaces it. The universe is granting me a gift and deeming me worthy of being in this adorable kid’s life. I only wonder why Colton hasn’t ever mentioned his son before?
No matter the reason, I can sense there’s something special about this kid. He glows with goodness, and I’ll do my damn best to be whatever it is he needs me to be.
“Cool. Cool, cool. Cool.” I sound like Jake Peralta from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. “How old is he?”
“Five.”
I nod, at a loss on what else to say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he’s never mentioned him before, but I swallow it down as Colton begins speaking.
“I…he…his mother dropped him off last night.”
“Abandoned him is more like it,” West adds.
Ever-so-carefully I pull my arm from beneath his sleeping form and wrap it around him, pulling him closer to me. “Abandoned?” The mere notion makes me ill.
“Showed up out of the blue, told Colton he was his, and left before the sun came up.”
My heart feels brittle, like it’s liable to break at any moment. “She what?”
Colton nods. “She left a note, and duffel bag with a change of clothes.”
“Oh my glob. Poor baby.”
The two imposing looking men exchange glances. “What are your plans this weekend and can you clear them?” Colton asks.
“I don’t have anything going on, why?”
“Because when Cruz spoke to you…it’s the only time I’ve heard him speak. I’m man enough to admit I’m out of my depth here, with him and fatherhood in general. So, yeah, since you’re free…I could really use the help.”
I hide my grin behind my hands. I guess a man like Colton can only humble himself so far—even when asking for help. “Of course. Anything you need,” I say, meaning it. I can’t even begin to imagine how either of them, father and son alike, must be feeling.
Right here in this moment, with a sleeping Cruz curled into my side and weary-eyed Colton across from me, I decide it’s my mission to help the two of them wade through these uncharted and murky waters.
13
Colton
He spoke to her.
That’s all I can think as I watch my son sleep, snuggled up to my purple-haired menace. Though, she’s not really a menace anymore, is she? No, I can think of far better descriptors for Ashley Murphy—the main one right now being a lifesaver.
She’s not mine either.
“Has he eaten?” Ashley asks, running her fingers through his hair.
“Uh, we grabbed breakfast on the way here about seven.”
“Colton! It’s almost one!” She whips her glare over to West. “Seriously? As a dad, you should know better.”
“I know, we just got caught up in trying to figure out everything with Kelsey.”
Ashley raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
“His mother,” I clarify.
“Did you find anything?”
West shakes his head, but I speak. “We found a few social media profiles, but she hasn’t been active on them.” My lips thin in disgust. “She didn’t have a single picture of him. It was all shots of her partying.”
Ashley wears a frown that rivals mine. She appears as repulsed by the whole situation as I am.
“I don’t know if it would help, but my best friend’s husband is a cop. Maybe he could look into it?”
I’m half tempted to take her up on it, but I shake my head in refusal. I’ve always kept my business on the right side of the law and don’t plan to venture into murky territory now.
“What’s the plan?” Ashley asks, like she has every right to know.
“Lunch?” It comes out as a question, and I hate the uncertainty ricocheting through me.
She shakes her head, causing wispy purple hairs to tickle her cheekbones. “No, big picture.”
“A paternity test. Obviously, he’s mine, but I’m no fool. I want irrefutable proof he’s mine. I want to make sure Kelsey can’t just waltz back in and take him after keeping him from me his entire life. I’ve also put calls out to the hospital listed on his birth certificate in hopes of medical records, and to a social worker, here locally.”
West and I go to speak at the same time; I signal for him to go ahead. “You also need to set up a bedroom for him and stuff like that.”
“Which means shopping,” I add.
“I suppose you’re both right.” Where do you take a kid to shop?
Ashley shoots me a cheeky smile that makes my heart stutter in my chest. “I usually am. But we can do that tomorrow. Today—after he wakes up—we eat and have fun. You need to bond with him.”
I start to bristle at her words, but tamper down the urge with a rough swallow. “Right. Food, fun, and bonding.”
West laughs. “Oh, how your Friday nights are about to change, my friend.”
“You’re confusing me for you.” I shoot my friend a withering glare.
“Whatever.” West waves his wedding band-clad hand through the air. “Why don’t we all grab a bite together on Sunday? I know Asher is a lot younger, but maybe being around other kids will help.”
“Sounds good. Text me to set it up.”
West nods as he rises to his feet. “See y’all. I gotta get home to the missus.”
Silence lingers for several minutes after West’s departure, until Ashley asks me what kind of food Cruz likes.
Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair, tugging on the ends. “Honestly? I have no idea. How messed up is that? I have a son and don’t even know his favorite food. Or his favorite color. I don’t know what he’s scared of or what makes him smile.” My eyes sting with emotion. “I don’t know him.”
