“This is an extra special Christmas Eve gift,” Damon urged. “And if you don’t like it, you can exchange it for something you like better.”
I gaped at him, but he nodded to the little boy.
Robbie settled on the floor, cross-legged. He tugged the ribbon off then removed the paper. His enthusiasm suggested he expected to find underwear, maybe socks. But when he removed the lid, he blinked and held up the contents…
“A key?”
Damon nodded. “A key to this house.”
“I have two keys!” His face brightened. “Thank you! It’s like I live both places. Two homes.”
We moved closer together, facing him as a unit. “One home, Robbie,” Damon said. “You’re going to have to turn your other key back to the landlord because we’re moving in here.”
His face glowed, and he rushed to switch the key on his ring then set the other one in the box. Then he lifted his eyes toward us. “Forever?”
“You know I can’t promise that, but we will have some meetings with your dad in the spring. For sure, we have the whole winter. Then we’ll see, okay?”
He nodded, so serious and grown up my heart cracked in half. “I suppose it’s the best we can hope for.” Then he smiled again. “Can I open another one?”
“You mean the gift of a winter all together here isn’t enough?” I asked. Foolishly.
“It’s great, but is there a truck under there somewhere?” With his new key clipped to his pj bottoms...I hadn’t realized he wore it 24/7 before. What must home symbolize to him? “I think I need a truck in my new home.”
Chapter Eighteen
Damon
I heard Patrick come in, but just in case I didn’t, when he spoke, something about getting the mail, our babe kicked me directly in the ribs.
“Must you talk,” I joked. “He or she kicks the ever loving…” I saw Robbie walk in. “Heck out of me when you do.”
“I’m so sorry. Should I go mute for the rest of your pregnancy? By the way, responding to noises and voices is typical eighth-month behavior.”
Patrick had read every book on pregnancy and was now the proud member of several forums. Reddit had become his favorite place. I veered away from everything except Lamaze class. And gods help me, they gave enough details to make me want to never do this again.
“Oh, and daddy update. My boobs are leaking some yellow stuff. Good job, boobs.”
“You said boobs, twice.”
Robbie was clearly going through a Beavis and Butthead phase. If only he had a Metallica shirt.
“I know. It’s anatomy.”
“I have other anatomy and you don’t see me talking about it when we’re about to eat dinner.” He smarted off frequently now. Testing his boundaries.
“Back talk, young man.”
He nodded and grabbed a roll. I’d ordered dinner in again; my energy waned by the minute. Once my head hit the pillow, I was out cold. Patrick worked his ass off and the least I could do was order in.
We’d made the spare bedroom into a nursery. Butter yellow covered the walls and a gray-toned wood cradle was set against the window.
“Quit thinking about the nursery.” How did he know? “Does things to your alpha that you are so eager to have our babe here,” Patrick whispered in my ear and wrapped his arms around me—barely.
“It’s more like I want this growing a human thing to be over even though I’m really grateful at the same time. I sound ridiculous.”
He sighed and bit my earlobe. “No, I get it. Actually, I don’t, but I can imagine. What smells good?”
I waved to the bags I’d yet to unpack. Thank the gods for Waitr.com. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad, and peach cobbler. Also, I ordered fried rice because I’m pregnant and couldn’t make up my mind.”
He chuckled and stood up, patting my bottom. “Sounds good. Robbie, wanna set the table?”
We both knew what tomorrow was, but none of us said a word. This was what Robbie needed. If we lost him in court tomorrow—if this was the last night I had him as my son—he deserved a family dinner. Something he could hold onto when things got rough wherever he went.
Best-case scenario, the judge would let us keep him.
Worst-case scenario, we’d never see him again, at least, until his father fucked up his life a little more.
“Say something you’re grateful for, Robbie.” This was the way we’d started our meals since moving in with Patrick.
“I’m grateful for this meal and for my family.”
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
***
At court, Scott showed up in a starched suit, but you couldn’t dress up a bad record full of felonies and social service visits, most for neglect.
“Robbie Smith, I’d like to hear what you have to say,” the judge said, and I cringed and sucked in a breath.
Robbie squeezed my hand as he sat next to me. I nodded at him, making sure not to say a word so they didn’t complain that I coached him. My little man then straightened his tie and pulled up his pants a bit before slowly walking up to the stand. He’d gotten a fresh haircut the day before and was so proud of it.
Scott turned around and gave me a stink eye, but I hadn’t known the judge would call him up. Most didn’t.
Patrick took my hand and wrapped the other arm around me. “It’s okay. He’s going to be fine.”
I nodded.
“Robbie Andrew Smith…” the judge swore him in, kid style, making sure he knew he had to tell the truth. “Now, can you tell us some things about living with your dad, Scott?”
He looked down. Poor kid didn’t want to talk badly about his father in front of his father. “Sometimes it was okay.”
The judge looked not so impressed. “Did you always have breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
My boy shrugged. “Sometimes no dinner. I eat breakfast and lunch at school.”
“And was your house clean?”
Even from my seat a good distance from him, I could see a tear come down Robbie’s face. “Not always. If the lady was coming, we had to clean up fast.”
“What lady?”
He pointed to Missy who had come in since she was over the case before Edward.
“I see. And did your dad ever hit you or push you?”
I squirmed in my seat. I’d suspected abuse, and Missy said she suspected it as well, but without photos, nothing could be proven.
“If I was bad, I deserved a punishment,” he said, chin quivering.
I almost leapt across the barrier between me and Scott and clocked him in the jaw. Robbie was a little boy. How dare he?
“And how do you feel about living with Damon and Patrick.”
Robbie looked up at me, and I winked at him. “Damon is weird. He makes funny jokes and he hates strawberries.”
Not the best recommendation.
“But my house is clean now, and I’m never late for school. My clothes smell nice, and I get to play soccer with my friends. Even if we order food, we have dinner. I get to set the table.”
The judge had a mad poker face. “Scott Smith, do you hear what your son is saying?”
Scott now looked down, looking very much like Robbie. “He’s happy with them.” He pointed at us. “Little traitor,” I heard him say under his breath.
“And with that, I’ve made my decision. Until you have a steady job, a suitable household, and go to some parenting classes, you will not be permitted to have visitation. That decision is final.”
The hammer slammed down and it was over. I tried like hell not to cheer, but the smile on Patrick’s face gave our happiness away.
Robbie was ours again. At least for a while.
Chapter Nineteen
Patrick
Settled back into our little family, we continued on our merry way. My practice was thriving. With Hal having fixed the accounting, and Missy and Edward suggesting me to any foster parents who weren’t sure what dentist to use, I worked long days, but
I didn’t mind. I came home every day to a clean house—courtesy of the three-times-a-week housekeeper who didn’t mind vacuuming around an omega who had gotten so big he’d given up on doing anything except shuffling into the kitchen for a snack, although he had managed to do all of Robbie’s chauffeuring until just a week before.
But with the baby due in a couple of weeks, I’d taken over that as well. We had filed for permanent custody of Robbie, something our attorney thought we could get since Scott hadn’t managed to accomplish anything the judge ordered him to do so far, and the money and personnel-strapped system had a hard time saying no to a child who was settled in a happy home. But we did have one thing I wanted to do before the baby came. I was pretty sure I could get my beloved out of the house for an hour’s trip to city hall, followed by dinner out as a family.
I’d love nothing more than to give him a huge wedding with the whole town present, but if I knew my omega, it would be more important to him that we wed for now then we could party later. Sure, we had friends, but what mattered to me, and I hoped to him, was that we have those most important to us present. Damon, Robbie, me, and, in the warmth and security of his papa’s belly...or maybe her papa’s belly since we hadn’t wanted to find out the gender, our baby.
Hal and Suzi, my dental assistant, would also be there because it seemed as if a person would like the witnesses on their marriage certificate to be familiar names.
I’d told Damon only that we were going somewhere special, so he’d wear his best expando-waist slacks and a nice shirt. But I found him sitting in the big armchair in the living room, legs outstretched, belly standing up nice and high, and head tipped back. Zs emanated from his slack face.
“My poor omega,” I muttered. “Maybe I should cancel the plan for city hall and just wait to get married after the baby comes.” After all, we were one, with or without the words. It had just been a sentimental instinct on my part.
“No,” came his sleepy voice. “I think we should go right now. On the way.”
“On the way to…” But I knew. My mouth went dry, my heart slowed, and I continued being dense. “Dinner?”
“I wouldn’t mind having dinner if we have time.” He tried to push to his feet and gave up, sinking back into the chair. “If you can help me up, I think we need to hurry if we want to do all these things before the baby comes.”
“No,” I said, just as stupid as any sitcom dad-to-be. “The baby isn’t due for two weeks.”
He held out both hands. “Tell the baby that.”
My head still swirling, I grasped his hands and, as I’d become good at recently, tugged him to his feet. “Okay, we have to go right to the hospital,” I muttered. Recalculating. Recalculating.
“Oh no, I heard what you said.” He waddled toward the coat closet next to the front door. “And I’m all dressed up and ready to go, so let me grab the baby bags and we’re off to get married.” He turned a big grin on me that slid into a wince then a grimace and braced himself on the wall. “I just need a minute for this...contraction to…whew. Okay.”
I arrived at his side as he reached the closet and opened it. “Slow down, omega. How about if I get you in the car and then come back for all our stuff?”
Over his protests that he was absolutely fine, I bundled him into the new minivan—yeah, we were that family—and made a few trips back and forth with the hospital bag, pillows, snacks, and a couple of bags that may have just been tossed in the closet randomly but I was afraid to leave behind just in case.
I swung behind the wheel and started the engine, but Damon laid a hand on my arm. “We have to pick up Robbie at his friend’s.”
I knew that and had planned to do so on the way to our wedding, but things had changed. “I’ll come get him afterward and bring him to meet the baby.”
“I’m not getting married without my son there.” We approached the corner and he barked, “Turn here.”
I obeyed from reflex, but shook my head at the same time. “We’re going to the hospital. City hall can wait.”
The argument continued while we did pick up Robbie, and he scrambled into his booster seat in the back then drove on toward the center of town.
“Wedding.”
“Hospital.”
“City hall.”
“Baby.” But even as I said it, I knew I didn’t stand a chance in changing my stubborn omega’s mind, so at the next stoplight I sent a quick text to Hal. We pulled up in front of city hall to find a welcoming committee consisting of Hal, Suzi, and a tall, gaunt man in full judicial robes. When my omega reached for the door handle, I grasped his hand and rolled the windows down. “It’s a drive-through ceremony, Damon. I want to make sure we don’t have this baby in the car if at all possible, so I asked Hal to beg the justice of the peace to do this for us.”
He tangled our fingers together and squeezed in what could have been either an expression of emotion or a contraction, or probably a combination of the two.
“Dearly beloved,” began the justice, and so we were wed. Dr. and Mr. Wright-Chen, witnessed by Hal, Suzi, and Robbie...and thank heavens, not our baby.
Damon’s water broke as we pulled away, and we finished the short drive to the hospital explaining to our son that Papa Damon had not had an accident, but that it was part of the baby coming soon.
Hal and Suzi were gracious enough to follow us and take charge of our curious little guy because the admitting nurse whisked us right to delivery. We’d barely made it in time for our baby to enter the world.
Still riding the high of fatherhood, I drove home in the wee hours with about two hundred or so pictures in my phone to tide me over until the next morning. They were nothing like the quality of the photos Damon took, but he’d been a little busy pushing out a baby, and my lack of skill did not detract from sentimental value. Robbie had gone home with Suzi who had a litter of puppies he was more than happy to meet, although I’d hesitated, feeling an urge to keep our family together, a protectiveness that the new addition had made almost overwhelming.
But when I saw who was waiting in the driveway, sitting on the low retaining wall between us and our uphill neighbor, I was relieved to face him alone. Shifting into park, I turned off the engine and stepped out of the van.
“Hello, Patrick.”
“Scott, what are you doing here? I’m too tired for a confrontation. If you want visitation with Robbie, you know it has to be set up through the court. He’s not here, anyway.”
“I know, I mean I know that’s the rules, but I wanted to tell you something.” His voice was low, and I noticed something else about him. Even in court, he’d looked ragged, a little dirty, needed a haircut and shave. And practically vibrated with anger and negative energy.
As a dentist, I spent a lot of time close to people, and while I wasn’t remotely psychic, I was pretty good at reading emotions. It helped minimize bitten fingers and procedures that had to be redone due to antsy patients. In this case, I saw calm. He approached me, despite my rough words, with a hand extended that a lifetime of good manners forced me to take.
“I know I don’t have any rights to my...well, I guess, your boy. Robbie deserves the home you’ve given him, the safety of knowing he’ll always have good meals and a warm bed.”
I started to say something, I wasn’t even sure what, in my state of exhaustion and now shock, but he waved me to silence.
“Just let me finish and I won’t bother you again. I’ve got a job, and I’m back in the halfway house until I have enough saved for an apartment. Even though I’m here to tell you Robbie is yours, I have relinquished all rights to him, but I don’t want him to be ashamed of his biological dad. I want him to know I changed and made a decent life. You’ll never see me again, but I promise these things.”
It had been a long, emotional day, but his words slowly permeated my brain. “Are you saying we can adopt Robbie?”
“Yeah, and that I won’t darken your doorstep again.”
I rubbed a palm over my face,
trying to deal with this complete turnaround. “I see.” And I could see. He looked different, felt different. “But how will Robbie know to be proud of you if he never sees you again?” My heart ached for the pain I could hear behind every word this man said. We loved his son, too, and wanted what was best for our little guy.
“I don’t know. Maybe I can send you a letter or something.”
I knew what was right… “I have to talk to Damon about this, but once the adoption is finalized, I think we’ll have to talk again. If what you promise is true, and you do make a decent life, maybe we can work something out so Robbie doesn’t entirely lose touch with you. He’s never said a bad thing about you, you know.”
A tear slid down his cheek. “I know. I have never been so ashamed as that day in court when he tried to tell the truth without making me look like the horrible father I was. That did it, you know. Broke my heart in two pieces and changed me. I can’t explain why it took me so long to figure it out.”
I shrugged, realizing he was still gripping my hand and easing free. “I don’t know, either, but I wish you well.”
“That social worker, Edward, said he’d be contacting you about your next steps for adoption soon. Thank you and Damon for making my boy, your boy…”
“Our boy,” I said, because he would always be his biological dad even if he never saw him or heard from him again.
“For making Robbie so happy.”
I swallowed past the huge lump in my throat. As a biological dad of some hours standing, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not measure up, to have to walk away from the child I loved so much. Or from Robbie, who held a huge piece of my heart as well. “Go and make yourself better. Then send a letter.”
He walked away, heading down the hill toward the main street and whatever life he was trying to make while I unlocked the door and went inside. In the course of a day, I’d gotten married, watched our baby be born, and learned we’d be able to adopt our son. I dropped across the couch and closed my eyes, too weary and overwhelmed to even attempt the stairs.
Roseville Romance Page 8
