First Love, Second Chance: A Secret Child Romance

by Vesper Young

  Ryan clocked those controllers in a millisecond and made a beeline for them.

  Lucas and I shared a look at his excitement.

  “Guess I know what we’re doing first,” he said.

  I smiled. “Guess so. I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Bye, Mom!” Ryan called, already fiddling with the console.

  “Don’t I get a goodbye hug?” I chided.

  Ryan sprinted over, hugged me, and went back to the couch in ten seconds flat. Lucas wasn’t able to hold back his laugh at that.

  “Thrown over for video games,” I said with a shake of my head. Then I looked back up at Lucas. His face was freshly shaven, his head dipped forward to look at me. Just looking at him, my heart sped up, even while I stayed rooted where I was. It was time for me to leave, but my feet wouldn’t budge.

  “I’ll call you if anything happens,” he assured me.

  It wasn’t concern for Ryan that made me not want to leave. He was in good hands. I knew that with utter certainty. So I forced myself to turn and wave goodbye as if I hadn’t wanted to pull his face to mine and kiss him.

  ***

  The weeks slid by after the new year. Lucas and I fell into an increasingly natural co-parenting rhythm. Because that’s what we were: co-parents. Nothing more. Certainly not boyfriend and girlfriend. Ryan usually spent at least one night a week with his dad. Within the first few visits, Ryan called him just that. The first time was when I came to pick him up. Two simple words—“Bye, Dad”—and Lucas looked shaken to his core. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape.

  And then he smiled, and it was completely filled with love.

  So, we were co-parents. Lucas sometimes invited me inside for whatever he was making for dinner (apparently, he wanted to make sure Ryan was getting balanced meals rather than just being the fun parent who always had pizza on hand). And in return, after Ryan asked for him to come to dinner, we regularly had dinners before or after my shifts before carpooling to the Rattler.

  It was comfortable. There was still some unease because as wonderful as Lucas was with Ryan, I hadn’t trusted him to be. I’d only revealed the truth when I was backed into a corner, and it would take time to rebuild whatever I’d wrecked between us, no matter how many heartfelt apologies I made.

  This weekend, neither of us has Ryan. It was my parents’s weekend with Ryan, which meant that not only was I able to pick up a weekend shift, but that Lucas would be there, too. Lucas was understanding of the arrangement, despite the fact I’d never let him meet them. Back in college, I’d know they wouldn’t approve—not because a six-foot, handsome, hardworking nerd was offensive to them, but because it meant I was making a decision of my own. I’d seen no reason to rock the boat and force my worlds to collide. It was a matter of time with Lucas back in our—Ryan’s—life. A collision I was inclined to put off as long as possible.

  I spent the morning relaxing, watching trashy TV shows while indulging in whatever passed for self-care. Eating cereal straight from the bag? Self-care. Attempting French tips on my toes? Self-care. Staring at my yoga mat to absorb past workouts by osmosis? Self-care. Calling Mindy up to get the scoop on whatever the latest tropical place she and Deacon had run off to? Well, that was just being a good friend.

  I rolled into the Rattler more relaxed than I’d felt in weeks. Things were finally easing into place. Lucas and I had an understanding. Ryan would have a fun weekend. I would make plenty of tips. Wins all around.

  The first few hours of my shift went by without any trouble. Lucas was parked at his usual booth. I caught him looking at me on occasion. Mainly because I kept looking at him. When we reached a decent lull, I decided it was time for my break. I let Ethan know, got a thumbs up, and made my way out from behind the bar.

  Reflexively, I glanced at my phone and froze.

  (1) Missed Call: Mother

  I rushed to the back, panic slamming into me. My breaths came quicker as all the possible reasons for her call ran through my head. Ryan. It had to be Ryan. Was he hurt? Did he break a bone? Worse? Did he get sick? Was he projectile vomiting over my mother’s immaculate furniture while I was getting drinks? Did they call an ambulance? Why the hell wouldn’t my mother leave a message, or at least text? My mother knew how to text and despised it, but if ever there was an occasion to regress to the twenty-first century’s version of communication…

  I barreled into Lucas's office and slammed the door while holding the ringing phone against my ear. If I was going to break down hysterically crying because my baby was suddenly disfigured by a tractor-trailer accident, it was this or the bathroom that the customers also used.

  The ringing went on forever. Seriously, no voicemail, no message, and now she wouldn’t pick up? Did my mother know what she did to my blood pressure?

  The ringing stopped about three seconds before I would’ve chucked my phone across the room in frustration.

  “Kara Louise Iver.” The cutting words hit me before I could even exhale my first panicked question. “What kind of a mother are you, introducing strange men to your son and calling them his father?”

  I blinked. This was not the fear-stricken voice of a grandmother rushing to the hospital. No, this was my mother in her element, criticizing me. “What? Is Ryan okay?” I asked, wanting confirmation.

  “Not only that,” she continued, steamrolling past my question, “But Ryan says you left him alone. Unsupervised. For several weekends, he was with some strange man doing Lord knows what, yet we, his own blooded grandparents, had to beg on our hands and knees for months for you to so magnanimously grant us a single weekend a month. What dreadful judgment,” she muttered, as if she forgot I was even at the other end of the line.

  God, she was exasperating. “Mother, that’s not some strange man Ryan is talking about. It’s his father, his real father.”

  A loud scoff came through the line. “The deadbeat father? Who’s crawling around for heavens knows what reason, and been who knows where? You trust some man more than us? Are you even sure that’s his real father?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” What the heck did she think, I got confused, picked some random man off the street and declared that Ryan’s father? “I know exactly who Ryan’s father is. He’s an excellent man and a wonderful parent. Ryan adores Lucas, and I trust him implicitly, although I know that doesn’t count for much in your book.”

  “Is that so? He doesn’t sound so wonderful. Ryan says they play vid-e-o games nonstop.” She drew out the word to three syllables, as if she was saying check-and-mate. “What kind of father does that? Oh, yes, I believe it would be the deadbeat bum who has no idea how to raise a child because he just got some loose coed pregnant, then ran off to party elsewhere instead of taking responsibility.”

  That crossed a line. Actually, it crossed several, but the way she was talking about Lucas rankled most. She didn’t know him at all. “Don’t you dare speak ill of Ryan’s father to him. If I hear you are, or even suspect as much, you won’t see Ryan again in this lifetime. My child has a right to his father, and keeping Lucas from him is something I regret every day. I can’t change the past, but I can try to make it up to both of them and I will not let you spew poison in my son’s ears. Understand?”

  “Poison? Kara, you’re being beyond dramatic. You’re a parent and yet you think this is any way to talk to your mother?”

  “If you tell me I’m not understood, then I’ll go there tonight and pick Ryan up. You won’t see him for a long, long time.”

  The line was silent for a long moment. “Fine. Understood,” she huffed, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  I was a bit surprised, too. This was the closest I’d ever come to making my mother back down, about anything.

  “But don’t we, as his grandparents, have a right to meet him? Especially if he plans to stick around. Finding out from Ryan. Really, Kara.” Her voice must’ve risen an octave, utter sweetness grating against my eardrums

  Okay, fair enough. Admittedl
y, I’d caught myself wondering earlier today just how long I could put this off. But maybe the solution wasn’t putting off these hard meetings, but rather meeting them head-on. “Fine, we’ll have dinner soon,” I told her.

  “Sunday,” she said.

  That was tomorrow. “We’ll see.”

  I loosed a breath as I hung up. I hadn’t stood up to my mother like that in years. Hadn’t broken that immaculately cool disapproving tone she used in ages either. Let her say whatever cutting remark she wanted about me, but Lucas was a good parent. The only reason he fit the definition of a deadbeat was because of my own deception.

  No sense putting it off. I might as well go ask him now if he’d be willing to brave the dragon den and meet Ryan’s grandparents. I pushed myself off the desk towards the door. Yanking it open, I came face to face with Lucas.

  “Oh, uh, whoops. Didn’t mean to steal your office, my bad.” The adrenaline from the call was translated into awkward stammering.

  “Not a problem. Is everything okay?” He paused. “With Ryan?”

  “Ryan’s fine,” I assured him. “Kid spilled the beans so I got a surprise attack from the Spanish Inquisition.”

  He quirked a brow. “No one ever expects them.”

  “Yeah, well, I should’ve. Um, did you hear anything? Through the door?” The last thing I needed was the mortification of my co-parent hearing me fight with my mom like I was a teenage girl who wanted to wear a crop top.

  “The door muffled any noise.” He watched me intently, as if there was something new and different about me. I had a sinking feeling the muffled noise had been quite audible. “How did she take it? I assume the inquisitor was your mother.”

  I shrugged. I tried to avoid talking about her, but her constant disapproval had come up in several rants during college. “Well, she barely likes Ryan having me for a parent, so adding another one into the mix was going to draw some fire. We reached a compromise.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yup. They want to meet you. A family dinner. Is there a day that works?” I asked.

  “How about tomorrow?” he offered.

  “Oh, that should work. That’s what she suggested.”

  “Is that alright? You sound disappointed.”

  I shrugged and blushed a little. Lucas could read into my expressions like I was an open book. “It’s childish. I kind of wanted to make them come down here and go to some busy restaurant since they can’t stand the city.”

  He grinned. “I get it. Have them meet us on our turf.”

  My heart fluttered a bit when he called it “our turf.” Because we were a team. Team Ryan? Maybe not, because my parents, for all their faults, did love him. Team Us?

  “No, no, I’m being petty. One less fight to do it the day she wants in the place she wants.”

  His grin deepened. “Petty Kara always was my favorite.”

  That earned an eye roll. “I’m not petty. Often.”

  “Oh, I can recall an occasion or two where that side came out.” He leaned against the doorframe without a care in the world, as if he was happy to stand here and reminisce for the whole night.

  “First of all, because I think I know what you think you’re talking about, the Cheez-It Incident wasn’t petty, it was deserved. And the laundry thing was just me being helpful.” It was important to set the record straight. “Second, I have to”—pull your mouth down on mine and lock the room with both of us in it—“get back to work, because my boss is a slavedriver who wouldn’t want me taking such a long break.”

  I maneuvered around him and made me way back to the bar. It was still fairly quiet, so I offered to cover for Ethan. A quick glance at the latest orders had me grabbing three different types of alcohol to mix drinks. My thoughts were going a thousand miles a minute. I’d told myself this was coming, and that I would turn over a new leaf, facing these problems head-on. That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous. Spending time with my parents was like slowly treading through a minefield at the best of times. This? This was going to be active combat, with the addition of the finest porcelain upstate New York had to offer.

  When I turned around, Lucas had moved from his booth to the bar. He wasn’t directly in front of me, but just seeing him there relaxed something inside me.

  The rest of the night went at an easy pace. Instead of darting out, I hung back to talk logistics with Lucas.

  “Dinner’s at five tomorrow,” I told him.

  “Got it. I’ll drive us?”

  “That’d be great,” I said. Even if it would be torture to sit next to him for two hours and not be able to be whatever we’d been instead of co-parents. “Is three good?” My mother abhorred lateness. I abhorred spending an extra minute in that household more than necessary.

  Lucas nodded. I half-expected him to offer to drive me home now, but the bar had to be closed down and despite my new “face things head-on” attitude, I wasn’t sure how to deal with him without the buffer of Ryan. So I took the bus home.

  23. Lucas

  After almost a decade, I was finally going to meet Kara’s parents. I pulled in front of her building at ten to three, two steaming cups of coffee sitting in the center console. Kara came down shortly after, probably anticipating my early arrival.

  I eyed her from the car, taking in her appearance the moment before she saw me parked. Her hair was down, a slight bounce in it. She’d switched out her usual puffy red jacket for a more fitted wool one. She was beautiful, regardless of what she wore or how her hair was placed.

  She spotted me and walked over, looking a bit less than thrilled. I leaned over and popped open the door. Kara slid in and sunk into her seat with a long, anguished groan.

  “Do we have to do this?” she whined. Her hands covered her eyes as if it would make the problems go away.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I told her. I was nervous, too, not that I’d admit it.

  Kara dropped her hands from her face and turned towards me. I assume to tell me I was sick in the head for not running away when she’d given me the chance, but instead, almost involuntarily, her gaze slid up and down my body. My hair was combed back, as close to styling as I ever managed. I’d debated dressing up, but at my core, I was a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy, so I wore a black long-sleeved one stretched across my chest. I’d finally bought a coat, halfway through the New York winter, to appease Kara’s need to see me bundled up—she really was a mom, sometimes. Admittedly, I’d probably need it if we got caught in the sudden cold front they were projecting.

  But I wasn’t thinking about my clothes when I watched Kara, and if she was thinking about them while looking at me, I suspected it was only because she wanted them off. She played with her bottom lip while her heated gaze continued to roam.

  I was tempted to make a joke, to tease her, but anything would break the spell between us. Ever since our fight over Ryan, over her doubting me, she’d held back. I’d pushed her away. And when I stared up at my ceiling in the early hours of the morning, imagining her looking at me the way she did now, I couldn’t figure out why.

  A car honked up the block, ending the moment. Kara turned back ahead, catching sight of the coffee.

  “Ohh, for me?” she said. “Is it laced with something good? Like booze? Or better yet, arsenic?”

  I shifted into first to pull out. “Just a shot of caramel, I’m afraid.”

  “Too bad,” she grumbled before taking a sip. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome. You’ll navigate?” I asked.

  I could’ve just plugged the address into the GPS app on my phone, but I didn’t want to risk Kara just checking out on the drive, staring out the window while she thought of worst-case scenarios.

  “Sure thing. Take a left up here.”

  The first hour went by quickly as we made our way out of the city. Kara danced along the stations, recounting a few quirky patrons she’d come across and talking about Ryan’s latest school projects.

  When a natural lull came up, I was about
to broach the subject when Kara beat me to it.

  “So, I guess you’re wondering what you’re in for?”

  “You could say that. You never spoke about them much and I never got to meet them. It feels overdue.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Start with what they’re like,” I suggested, hiding my surprise. I’d expected more reticence based on past history.

  She considered. A thousand memories playing across her face.

  “They’re critical,” she said at last. “In the sweetest way. Apparently upstate New York breeds Southern hospitality, because my mother is sweet as sugar when she tells me she thinks I’m a terrible parent.”

  My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Does she really think that?” I asked in disbelief. Kara was a phenomenal mother. You had to be blind, dead, and stupid to miss how she devoted herself to Ryan.

  She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “Well, most people wouldn’t have a high opinion of a teenage mother. It hasn’t always been easy and I can’t claim that I was able to give Ryan the idyllic childhood I had.”

  I shook my head, unable to believe what I was listening to. “That’s bullshit. Kara, you’re an excellent mother. Idyllic doesn’t count for shit. Ryan loves you and you love him. You’ve raised a great kid.”

  She blinked a few times. “Thanks.” Her voice was soft.

  Tightness coiled through me. I wanted to pull over and take her in my arms. I loosed a breath, forcing myself to keep steady on the highway, processing what she’d said.

  “Anyway. Parents,” she said, getting back to the main subject. “My dad is okay. I never grew up past being his little girl in his eyes. When I told him you hired me for consulting, he figured it was just because you wanted to sleep with me.”