by R. K. Lilley
“Dair,” Heath said, his tone changing, cooling, of course, when he was talking to me. “Meet Cameron Alasdair Masters.”
I almost fell to my knees right there. What breath I had left was knocked clean out of me.
My middle name was Cameron.
She’d given him my full name, every piece of it.
If him looking like a miniature version of myself wasn’t enough to tell me who this child was, certainly the name did.
Little Cameron blinked his big eyes at me once, twice. “Daddy?” His voice was tentative, and it was clearly a question.
He knew who I was. He’d been told about me.
Even the two year old was more apprised of the situation than I was. He was clearly related to Iris and Heath.
I had to clear my throat three times to get my answer out. “Yes,” I told my son emotionally. “I’m your daddy.”
He reached out an arm to me, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
I shifted closer, even getting into Heath’s personal space to accommodate this little child’s silent request.
Cameron patted my shoulder, giving me a few expectant blinks. “Hugs,” he said, tugging me into both him and Heath, forcing me and the other man into an awkward group hug.
Heath didn’t say one word, just let out a little protesting grunt and let the child have his way.
Carefully and determinedly, I peeled Cameron off and away from him, clutching him to me. Holding my son for the very first time.
“Hugs,” I finally agreed, squeezing my eyes shut tight as his little arms wrapped snugly around my neck.
We stayed like that for a very long time; him burrowed into me, me taking deep breaths as I processed the fact that I was a father.
Finally, I looked up at Heath, who watched me back with a gimlet-eyed Heath expression.
“Is she . . . ?” I couldn’t even finish the question.
“She’s alive and well, in protective custody until all of the things she needs protection from are taken care of, which shouldn’t be too much longer. I’ve eliminated all but a few as of now.”
“She never even told me she was pregnant,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice calm.
The shock was ebbing and some righteous anger was flowing right back in to take its place.
“She couldn’t. She didn’t have the opportunity. And she was trying to spare you the pain of thinking you’d lost them both, instead of just her.”
My voice was less calm as I shot back, “Over two years without a word. How could she keep this from me for so long? How could she keep everything from me? I thought she was—”
Heath had not one iota of understanding or empathy in either his face or his words. Just the opposite. But that was Heath for you. In this particular situation, it had an almost calming effect on me, strange as that was.
“You’re a fool,” he said, voice low. “If she’d come to you earlier, she never could have stayed, not for any length of time. And besides that, you know she’d never put you in danger. For some reason I can’t fathom, she loves you.”
That had something painful and wonderful blooming deep in my chest. In spite of everything, the time lost, the grief spent, the uncertainty and the confusion, I loved her still. Even if it was coming from Heath, it was so good to hear that she was alive and well and might still love me back.
“Now, or soon, it will be safe for her to come to you, if you want that. You haven’t moved on, so I assume you still want her?”
I didn’t hesitate, I’d had years to put things in perspective, but I could only nod. I wasn’t capable of discussing my feelings with Heath. That would be as pointless as explaining poetry to a fish. Well, in this case, more like a shark.
He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and thrust it at me.
I took it, shooting him a questioning look, unable to unfold it with only one hand.
“That’s a list of the things you’ll need for him. If I were you, I’d head to the store right away. Welcome to parenthood. Hopefully you don’t suck at it, because you’re on your own for a month or so.”
“You-you’re leaving him with me?”
“What, you don’t want him? I’m happy to take him back with me.”
“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that. I want him. I was just startled.”
Heath was ignoring me by then, his eyes on Cameron, his whole face transformed to give my son a loving smile.
“Remember what I told you, sport?”
“Grown-ups always come back,” Cameron said instantly, like he’d been taught to memorize it.
“That’s right. We do. So I’ll be back, and your mommy will be back. And this time, you’ll all get to live together as a family. Won’t that be awesome?”
“Awesome!” Cameron responded instantly.
After one last kiss on the top of Cameron’s head, Heath left.
I carried my child the entire way home. I was sure he could have walked some of it, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t letting him go.
We were nearly to the house when my son said, his little voice faulting, “Mommy misses you—daddy—she misses you so much!”
I blinked rapidly, but that didn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes. “I miss her too, son. So much.”
“I misses you, too,” he added, his cute little bottom lip jutting out.
That gutted me like nothing else. “I missed you, too. Like you wouldn’t believe. But we’ll never be apart again. You’re staying with me for good.”
“You pwomise?”
“I promise.”
I headed straight to Target with the list and Cameron in tow. It was an ordeal, but eventually I found everything I needed, and then spent two hours in the toy department.
Going from living by myself to having a toddler in the house was an adjustment, but a welcome one. He was good company.
I showed him the flowers I’d had planted, years ago, in every possible piece of dirt on the property. “Do you know your mommy’s first name?” I asked him.
“Mommy?” he guessed.
I smiled and patted his head. “That’s her name to you, but her name to me is Iris. Do you know what all these flowers are called?”
He looked around. They were everywhere. He shook his head.
“Iris.”
His cute little brow wrinkled. “Are you saying my mommy’s a fwower?”
“No, but she’s named after a flower, and these are her favorites. You think she’ll be happy when she sees how many we have at our house?”
With wide eyes, he nodded.
About three weeks after Cameron arrived, I started watching for her. I couldn’t help myself. The idea that she could show up at literally any moment consumed me.
I put in a daily order for bouquets of Iris, vase after vase, until they filled every spare table space in the house.
Cameron eagerly helped me find just the right spaces for them all, nearly as anxious to see his mother again as I was.
Of course she came in the night. Always the element of surprise with my Iris.
Cameron slept a few doors down. I’d been taking time off writing to play catchup with him, and we’d been working on transforming that room for him. So far, I’d filled it with kids furniture, had it painted green, and plastered the walls with an assortment of peel-able stickers of all of his favorite characters, from Thomas to The Cookie Monster.
I’d read him eight stories before he finally conked out. I had high hopes that I had a future author on my hands. It always started with the devouring of books.
I was already aware enough of his sleep patterns to know that he’d be out until morning, and so when my bedroom door opened slowly in the middle of the night, I didn’t suspect for a second that it was Cameron.
The sound of the door being decisively closed and locked, then the quiet shuffle of clothing being discarded was further proof.
My heart started pounding. I didn’t know, but I hoped with all my heart that it was her.
In our time apart, I’d managed to come to terms with a great many things. Missing a person desperately will do that.
I swallowed hard, and called out, “Iris?”
I heard her gasp, and from the gasp, I knew.
She answered by climbing into bed with me.
I wrapped my arms around her, and just held her for a very long time, no words needed.
Of course that didn’t last forever. I was wide awake, with a naked body pressed to me that I’d been longing for for years.
I began to touch her, remembering each lush curve with my reverent hands.
She trembled under my touch, and it quickly turned from reverent to carnal, hungry.
I was trying to go slow, but she snapped first, moving to straddle me. She took me inside of her, and it was every bit the heaven I remembered.
We took each other in the dark, reacquainting ourselves by feel alone.
I woke in the morning reaching for her.
Warm sunlight infiltrated through the partially drawn shades, and my fingers met warm, naked flesh.
I was a second away from mounting her when I heard the clanking sound of the handle on my locked door being twisted back and forth, then some little fists beating on the door.
Beloved green eyes met mine, still blinking away sleep.
“Fuck,” I mouthed.
I really could have used at least five more minutes alone with her, but I got over it quickly.
Iris got a little misty eyed when she saw the first vase of flowers and was swaying on her feet by the sixth.
We hadn’t even made it downstairs by then.
I anchored her to me, her back to my front, kissing her temple, her cheek, her ear, her jaw.
“Every single day that I’ve waited for you,” I told her quietly, “and missed you, I regretted that I never got to buy you flowers. I plan to make up for that, every day for the rest of our lives.”
She started crying, and Cameron rushed to hug her legs, asking where her owie was.
“No owie, sweet pea,” she told him, patting his head. “Sometimes grown-ups cry when they’re very happy, when they get something really nice, that they never expected.”
We went down to the kitchen.
Iris started getting out the ingredients for French toast.
“Really, Iris, is that appropriate, in front of the boy?” I teased.
She giggled, and I loved it.
It was after breakfast, Cameron was coloring at the table, and I’d cornered Iris in the living room, then pulled her onto my lap, filling my hands with her.
She melted against me, but her eyes were serious. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you?”
Nothing had changed. I couldn’t hold onto my anger at her for long, couldn’t even summon any up if I’d tried, and that wasn’t only the lust talking. A big part of it was lust, but the rest was sheer, unadulterated relief.
I tried to explain this to her, but she wouldn’t believe me, so I told her she could make it up to me with a lot of raunchy sex.
“I think we might need to get a nanny,” she whispered in response. “I have two years’ worth of sexual frustration that I’m planning to take out on you, way more than I can keep relegated to nap and bedtime hours.”
That sounded like about the best thing I’d ever heard in my life.
We got married at a drive-thru chapel, exactly twenty minutes after we had our marriage license squared away, because we were in an inexplicable rush, and Iris claimed she’d always wanted a tacky, quickie Vegas wedding.
Cameron, who was sitting in the backseat, got a real kick out of it.
It was perfect. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Iris and Cameron had come home, and they’d brought my home with them.
SOME HAPPY MONTHS LATER
My mother and father were shocked but thrilled when they found out they had a grandson. They had given up on that possibility years ago, which made it doubly joyful for them to be grandparents.
The circumstances that brought Cameron to them, however, they were not so thrilled about.
Any reminder of who the child’s mother was, or of her age, had them tight lipped and stiff, to say the least.
Iris seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of them, and playing it up, going into her most outrageous mood within a few minutes of being in their company. It positively tickled her.
Motherhood and marriage hadn’t tamed that wild thing inside of her.
Though in all fairness, my parents tended to walk right into it. Especially my mother.
“So you’re twenty-one now, Francis?” My mother asked her over the first course of dinner.
“Yes, and I go by Iris.”
“So young to be married and with a child,” my mother emphasized.
She was civil to Iris, but always in her tight expression, her pursed mouth, and her passive aggressive words, remained a silent but apparent disapproval.
I didn’t even have to ask, I knew why.
Not only did she think Iris was way too young for me, way too young for things to ever last, she also held my wife responsible for putting her oldest and closest friend behind bars.
It made for some interesting family dinners.
“Twenty-one? Oh that’s nothing. You’re forgetting that I was barely legal when Dair knocked me up.”
I had to cover my mouth to hide a laugh, then pat my dad roughly on the back when he nearly choked on his soup.
Iris beamed at him like he’d just made her day.
“Why would Daddy knock you, Mommy?” Cameron asked, looking back and forth between the adults, clearly confused.
“Daddies knock Mommies when they love each other very much, baby,” she told him without missing a beat.
“Is he going to knock you again?”
“Oh yeah. He knocked me just before dinner, sweetie.”
My dad was turning an interesting shade of red, and my mother’s gasps were filling the room, one after another.
Cameron’s face screwed up. “Does it hurt?”
“Naw, baby. Your daddy knows just what he’s doing. He’s a superb knocker.”
My mother stopped with the snide comments for quite some time after that round.
We got Cameron his first puppy for Christmas. His reaction when he found out was one of the happiest moments of my life, a moment of pure, perfect joy.
I was unspeakably grateful to Iris for saving that little slice of bliss for me.
We watched him frolicking in the backyard with his brand new golden retriever puppy.
“Did you know he’d be that happy to get a dog?” I asked Iris.
She was on my lap in an oversized rocking chair, head back on my shoulder, hands resting over mine on the armrests. “I had a hunch.”
“Well, thank you for waiting for me on that. It means a lot to me.”
“Oh just wait. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
I smiled and kissed her temple. “Are you going to explain that, or do I need to guess?”
She gripped my hands harder, then dragged them over to rest on her flat belly. “Know what Cameron wanted even more than a puppy?”
My heart stopped, then started pounding like a freight train.
I heard the smile in her voice. “A little brother.”
It wasn’t a little brother.
It was a gorgeous baby girl, but Cameron didn’t mind one bit.
BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY
THE WILD SIDE SERIES
THE WILD SIDE
IRIS
DAIR
TYRANT - COMING SOON
THE OTHER MAN - COMING SOON
THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES
IN FLIGHT
MILE HIGH
GROUNDED
MR. BEAUTIFUL - AVAILABLE OCTOBER 15TH, 2014
LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR COMPANION NOVELLA)
AUTHORITY - COMING SOON
THE TRISTAN & DANIKA SERIES
BAD THINGS
ROCK BOTTOM
> LOVELY TRIGGER
THE HERETIC DAUGHTERS SERIES
BREATHING FIRE
CROSSING FIRE - COMING SOON
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HERE’S AN EXCERPT FROM MY UPCOMING NOVEL,
THE OTHER MAN
THIS IS LOURDES AND HEATH’S STORY
LOURDES
I felt eyes on me all through the grocery store. I had good instincts, and so when I turned and saw no one, I was surprised.
It was a quick run, mainly for fresh produce and meat, so I was in and out quickly, my mind on Dair.
He was hot. Tall, with a body to die for. Huge arms, a rock hard chest. And the rest was just as nice, with messy brown hair and kind eyes that always made me feel like I was with an old friend.
Hot, successful, and almost too easy to talk to. I found myself spilling my guts to him practically every time we spent any time together.
Still, we seemed destined to stay in the friend zone, and even I couldn’t have said why.
I collected my organic swiss chard, spinach, kale, tomatoes, zucchini, onions, leeks, just grabbing the usual, no specific meal in mind. I was a vegetable junky, so I’d find something to do with it all, and force as much of it on my boys as I could. Cooking healthy and feeding it to them was a compulsion for me at this point.
They were great sports about it and rarely complained. They were good boys.
My pride and joy.
My divorce had been ugly, but so had my marriage, and over a year later I found myself in a strange place. I loved my work, my children were grown and thriving, and I was enjoying life more than I could ever remember. There wasn’t much romance in my life, but there hadn’t been much even when I’d been married, so it still felt like a clear turn for the better.
Perhaps I was one of those women that was just better off alone.
