by Mia Ford
“What did he say?” I ask cautiously.
Then I kick myself. He’s three. He’s probably more confused than anything else.
“Not much,” Jessica says anyway. “He’s curious. His friend has a dad and…well, he’s curious, I guess.”
“Any tips?” I snort.
“He likes toy cars,” Jessica says, surprising me by taking my question seriously. “It might open the door a little if you bring him a car the two of you can play with.”
It’s good advice. I swallow nervously around a suddenly dry throat. This is it… In two days’ time, I’m really going to meet my son.
Suddenly, all the bravado that I felt yesterday seems to have flown out the window.
“Thanks,” I say gruffly. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Bye,” she says softly.
I hang up. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty. I’m anxious, I realize. I’ve just set a day to meet my son, and I have no idea what to do about that.
No, it isn’t about meeting Owen. I’m a father.
Shit.
Why is this just hitting me now?
My fingers are dialing a number before I even realize I’m doing it. It picks up quickly.
“Grant?” Ethan asks, confused; I rarely call. “Everything okay?”
“I’m a dad!” I blurt.
There’s a shocked silence. I feel a little better to know, suddenly, that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make the leap that Owen, Jessica’s son, is mine. It makes me feel less foolish after Kyle figured it out.
“You’re what?” Ethan blurts.
“Jessica had a kid, he’s three years old, his name is Owen, and I’m meeting him on Tuesday,” I say, the words rambling out of my mouth.
Is this panic normal? Yesterday, I was so angry at Jessica that there was no room to think about the ramifications of Owen actually being my son. Now that I’ve calmed down somewhat about that, there’s nothing standing between me and a full blown panic attack.
I’m a father.
I don’t know how to be a father!
“Fuck,” Ethan says bluntly, and I laugh with a tinge of hysteria. Fuck, indeed. “Tuesday?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Alright,” Ethan says, a decisive note in his voice. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go down to the bar to get a drink, yeah? Then we’ll talk about this.”
“I’m not working tonight,” I point out.
“Which is why you can get a drink to settle those nerves,” Ethan says. “See you there in twenty minutes.”
He hangs up, not giving me the chance to protest. I stare dumbly at the blank screen. It’s probably not the wisest idea to go drinking when I’m feeling like this, but…
I grab my coat. I need Ethan’s advice and it seems like this is the only way to get it.
Ethan is already there when I arrive, heading into the bar after parking my bike around the back. Several people do a double-take when they see me; I’m not often here when I’m not working, so it’s likely a surprise to see me in the club jacket instead of the uniform. Fiona waves to me from where she’s serving customers.
“Here,” Ethan says, sliding a beer toward me as I sit at the table across from him in the corner of the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Riding over here made some of the panic disappear,” I admit. “I found out yesterday, but I just got off the phone after organizing a play date with Jessica, and I think it just hit me all at once.”
“Well, you came to the right guy,” Ethan grins. “Shit, I remember when I found out about Lily. I panicked so hard. I almost ran off, even.”
I can barely believe it. Solid, dependable Ethan, who loves his daughter more than anything else in the world, almost abandoned her?
“The whole idea was terrifying,” Ethan continues. “I didn’t know how to be a dad. I didn’t have any good memories of my own dad, so how could I raise a kid?” He raises an eyebrow. “Guess it’s the same for you?”
“I was an orphan,” I say, studying the table. “I was in the foster system, which didn’t do me much good.”
“Then it’s not much different,” Ethan says with a nod. “But, listen, just because you had crap parental figures, it doesn’t mean you can’t be a good dad. What was the first thing you thought when you found out?”
“I was upset at how much time I’d missed,” I say.
“Which is really different to my first thought,” Ethan laughs. “You’re going to be okay, Grant. Just remember, Owen is a kid, not a monster out to get you. Get him a toy or something, and he’ll adore you for life. And make sure you stick around and visit him a lot.”
“I’m not sure Jessica will like that,” I say in a low voice.
“Fuck her,” Ethan says. I look up in surprise; his face is twisted in a dark look. “She doesn’t have the right to say anything anymore. She should have told you about Owen when she first knew she was pregnant, even if the two of you weren’t together anymore. The one good thing Polly did before she left was tell me she was pregnant and then letting me take custody.”
Ethan never talks about Polly. It’s only by chance, when Ethan got drunk one night and droned on and on about what a terrible woman she was, that I even knew his ex’s name. I open my mouth, not sure what to say, when a hand suddenly lands on Ethan’s shoulder.
“Grant, Ethan,” Alex Howard greets, looking pleased. “Good to see you both.”
I can’t help but grin. It’s been some time since I last saw Alex. He’s been extremely busy lately, though he’s been cagey every time someone asks what he’s up to.
“Alex!” Ethan exclaims. “Sit down, man! How have you been?”
“Not too bad,” Alex says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I don’t want to interrupt; the two of you look like you were having a serious conversation.”
Ethan and I glance at each other.
“Do you remember Jessica?” I ask Alex.
Something odd crosses Alex’s face at the mention of my ex. I don’t really recognize the expression, and it’s gone before I can look too closely.
“Yes,” he says shortly.
“She’s back,” Ethan tells him. “Not only that, but…”
He glances at me, and I grimace. I’m not going to keep it a secret, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to tell anyone else yet. Too late now, unfortunately.
“She had a kid,” I tell Alex. “Turns out, it was my kid. He’s three, now. I only found out yesterday.”
“Wait… What?” Alex asks. He sits heavily in the spare chair, looking taken aback by the information. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as can be,” I say grimly.
“It’s fucking shit, that’s what it is,” Ethan adds.
“But that’s…” Alex shakes. “I can’t believe it.”
I look up, caught by the sudden anger in his voice. I’m grateful that he’s angry on my behalf, but it feels like there’s something more to his fury. His lips are white with how hard he’s pressing them together, and I see him lower his hands, which he’s clenched into white-knuckled fists, beneath the table.
“Yeah,” I say, wondering what’s going on.
Suddenly, Alex looks at me. The look in his eyes are intent, and that expression flits across his face, still too fast to catch.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
He could easily be saying that he’s sorry I have to go through something like this. But the way he says it, his voice low and intense, makes it feel like there’s something more to it.
But what?
“I better go,” he says, standing before I can question him.
He’s gone as swiftly as he arrived, disappearing into the ground. Ethan snorts as I stare at his retreating back.
“He really hates injustice,” he says.
Is that all it is? Somehow, I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel right.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “He does.”
Chapter Eleven
; Jessica
When Tuesday rolls around, I’m a nervous wreck.
It’s ridiculous, because what is there to be nervous about? It’s just Grant coming over to meet my son. Our son. That’s going to take some getting used to.
In complete contrast to me, Owen doesn’t seem in the least bit worried. He took the news that his father, who he hadn’t even known existed before Saturday, is coming around very well. I don’t think he entirely understands what’s going on. I doubt he even noticed that he was meant to have a father and didn’t.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and I jump. Is this it? I glance at my watch. It’s too early for Grant to be here, but I couldn’t blame him for being early. If I’m anxious, I can only imagine what Grant must be feeling right now.
I draw in a deep breath and head to the door. Okay, I can do this. I have to do this. It’s important. Grant has every right to see his son, and all I have to do is stand there and pretend that I’m happy about this.
I can do it.
I open the door, hitching a smile on my face that stretches uncomfortably at my cheeks. It instantly falls, however, when I see that it isn’t Grant standing at my front door.
It’s Allison.
“Hey,” she says with a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” I say, taking a step back.
After Grant told me, on Sunday, that he planned to apologize to Allison, I knew I couldn’t allow him to speak to her first. Allison is my friend; I had the right to tell my side of the story first.
Of course, I was too much of a coward to call her. Instead, we conversed over text messages, and I was content with that. Now, suddenly, she’s here?
“I hope you don’t mind,” Allison says as though she’s following my thoughts. “You told me Grant was coming today and…I thought you might want some support.”
I stare at her. To my embarrassment, I feel my eyes burn with tears.
“God, yes,” I sniffle.
Allison’s face relaxes into a real smile.
“I was worried you were angry at me,” she admits. “I gave Grant your address, and then I gave Kyle your number, to give to Grant. I was so excited for you, and I know Grant is a nice guy, so I didn’t even think about it. But, even so, I should have asked first.”
“You did the right thing,” I tell her. “I wasn’t angry at all. Grant… I should have told him the truth a long time ago.”
It was a hard thing to come to terms with. But it’s the truth. I should have told Grant everything long ago. This should never have gone on as long as it has. It was stupid of me not to tell Grant when I first fell pregnant, and now I’m paying the price for my silence.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” I add.
“Don’t be,” Allison says immediately. “You’re still my friend; that’s not going to change because you made a few sucky decisions.” Suddenly, she coughs awkwardly. “Though, Kyle is a little upset at you. He’s known Grant for a while, and he’s one of those protective types, you know?”
“It’s not causing any problems with you guys, is it?” I ask, worried.
“No way,” Allison assures me. “We’re agreeing to disagree on this. Kyle knows you’re my friend, and I know Grant is Kyle’s friend, so we’ll just do what we can. Actually, Kyle was even the one to suggest that I come around today.”
I give her a small smile. “Keep that one, Allison; he’s a great guy.”
“I almost let him go once,” Allison says solemnly, and I wonder at the grim expression on her face; I’ll have to get her to tell me the story one day. “I don’t plan on ever doing that again.”
I hear a giggle from the living room. Owen is laying on his stomach on the floor, scribbling in a coloring book.
“I’m worried,” I confess. “What if Grant tries to take Owen away?”
It’s the fear I haven’t wanted to voice. I’m not ready to lose Owen. But Grant has every right to fight for custody. He might even receive it, considering my lies.
“Maybe that’s something you need to talk to Grant about,” Allison says quietly. “But I heard him talking to Kyle, yesterday; he was talking about making a visit schedule with you and outlining the shifts he can swap with the other bartender to make it possible for him to come around a few times a week, depending on what days Owen’s at daycare.”
I stare at Allison, stunned. Somehow, this level of organization is not something I would have expected from Grant. It tells me, more than anything, that Grant is really is serious about this.
“Wow,” I say.
“It’ll all work out,” Allison says confidently. “You guys just need to talk.”
Considering our track record, I hope she doesn’t mean we should talk alone; we’re more likely to end up in bed if we try. I cough at this thought and give Allison a tremulous smile.
“Yeah,” I say.
Still, I feel more relaxed now. I take in a steadying breath. Allison is right. Communication is going to be the key here. Even if we only ever talk about Owen, that’s okay. After all, our son is now the only thing that needs to be holding us together. Anything else can wait.
I nod.
“Alright,” I say aloud. “I’m ready to do this.”
Of course, right at that moment, the doorbell rings for a second time. I freeze.
“Want me to get it?” Allison asks sympathetically.
It’s tempting, but…
“No, it’s fine,” I say, and march toward the door.
It’s Grant this time. Last time he showed up on my doorstep, his expression was hard and unforgiving. This time, however, he’s shuffling his feet, and his eyes are flickering everywhere. It was one thing to know that he would be nervous… It’s another thing entirely to see just how anxious he is.
“Hey,” he says, passing a plastic bag from hand to hand.
“Hey,” I return, stepping aside. “Come in. He’s waiting for you.”
He gives me a slightly scared look, and I feel myself relax even more. Grant is terrified.
“Don’t look so worried,” I say to him. “It’s going to be fine. He’s going to love you.”
He visibly smiles.
“Right,” he says. “Living room?”
I nod, and he marches forward, looking like he’s heading to the gallows. He nods at Allison, who smiles back at him, obviously harboring no ill feelings for his manipulations, and disappears through the door.
“He looks so nervous,” Allison giggles quietly as I approach. “I’ll have to tell Kyle about this.”
“I’m not sure Grant will appreciate that,” I say with a small smile.
Grant is approaching Owen carefully, clutching his plastic bag. I can see the top of some sort of toy box, and I realize that he took the advice I gave him on Sunday. He’s halfway there when Owen notices him and looks up.
Grant freezes. I almost want to take a picture of the expression on his face, which is equal parts startled and worried. Owen blinks up at him with large, brown eyes that are so much like his father’s.
“Daddy?” he asks, tilting his head curiously.
“Y…” Grant clears his throat. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Owen says with a shrug, and goes back to coloring.
There’s something ironic about how the three adults in the room are tense and waiting, while the sole child couldn’t care less about anything. Grant looks back, his expression panicked, not sure what to do now that he’s been dismissed.
I could step in, but… I make a shooting motion, telling him to keep going, not intending on helping him at all. It’s only partly petty. Grant does need to get to know Owen on his own steam, after all.
It has nothing to do with Grant making it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with me unless we’re talking about Owen. Nothing at all.
Grant wavers uncertainly. Then he slowly sits on the floor.
“O-Owen?” he says. “I, uh… I have something for you.”
Ow
en’s head shoots up, his eyes glittering at the prospect of getting a gift. Grant’s shoulders tense at the sudden attention, but he pulls the box out of the bag, revealing a large, plastic truck.
“A car!” Owen squeals, scooting forward eagerly. “A new car!”
“Yeah,” Grant says, trying a smile. It looks only slightly less nervous. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah!” Owen says. He looks at Grant with beseeching eyes. “Can you open it?”
“Sure,” Grant says with a more genuine smile.
Well, Owen is happy, and the first step in introducing Grant and Owen has been taken. I wonder why I don’t feel happier about this. I lean against the doorway and frown. It’s not as though I’m worried about Grant being here and being accepted into Owen’s life. For all that I worry about losing my son, it’s nice to know that Owen has a father, now.
Yet watching Owen and Grant interact leaves me with an odd ache, and I can’t figure out why.
“Wow, Grant’s pretty good with him,” Allison murmurs, leaning toward me, watching as Grant carefully helps Owen open the toy box. “It’s hard to believe he was so nervous.”
“Yeah,” I say with a wry twist of my lips. “I think he and Owen are going to be fine.”
Allison goes quiet, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. There’s a conflicted expression on her face.
“Is the reason you didn’t tell Grant about Owen because you didn’t think he’d make a good father?” she finally asks.
I tense. I’ve been waiting for her to ask. I knew she would eventually; how could she not? It’s the question on everyone’s minds, after all; why did I keep Owen from Grant for so long? Why did I leave him in the first place? It probably wouldn’t be nearly as mysterious if Grant wasn’t so obviously confused, too.
Funnily enough, Allison’s guess is the closest anyone has gotten to the truth yet.
“Not quite,” I say, refusing to look at her.
“But…” Allison tries.
“Allison,” I say, and the way I say her name comes out harsher than intended. I sigh. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t want to talk about it. It was all very complicated at the time, and I did what I thought was right for both Owen and I. Even if that doesn’t really make sense to anyone else.”
