by Sandra Kitt
On the bed, they lay facing each other, kissing and stoking the passion. It was like a new discovery, their light, reverent touch titillating, electrifying each other. They didn’t want to rush, finding pleasure in the extended foreplay, in exploring new territory with daring and passion.
Their lovemaking escalated to the only possible finish. The ride was dizzying as they responded to each other, mindlessly headed to the edge of a precipice without falling over yet. On her side Jean lifted her leg over his, leaving the path open for Patrick to shift and position himself. He placed a hand on her hip, holding Jean steady as he undulated, thrusting slowly into her.
They clutched each other tightly, breathing deeply, moaning softly, moving in syncopation. The sensations spiraled through their bodies in an exhilarating climb, falling over that edge in free fall as they climaxed in tandem. It was all born of being in a safe place where they could just love each other.
* * *
The magic spell continued for a few weeks. It was time in which Jean’s hope grew to near mythic levels with each FaceTime call and text from Patrick, every day, weekend, any time spent together. No different from what he’d been doing all along, but now with more meaning and promise. In between claiming time for themselves that was not work centered, Patrick had finally met with his son. The space between him and his ex-wife remained planted with explosives that had to be navigated. The different family configuration was a difficult work in progress.
And Patrick found creative ways to always remind Jean that he loved her. He sent flowers. He arranged a VIP seat for her at the U.S. Open in Flushing Meadows, introducing her to one of the nation’s top-ranked Black female tennis champs at courtside. Somehow, Jean managed a thirty-second conversation with the very public, popular, and talented woman in which she didn’t make a stammering fool of herself.
Everything cemented her belief that she and Patrick might actually have a future together, although it was too early still for that subject to be raised. They’d both gotten used to the chaotic cadence of their relationship, thrilled when they could spend time—a night, a weekend—together. They were handling the inevitable separations and interruptions with more confidence. Every time Patrick called with some hastily concocted plan, there was never any other answer to give him but yes.
Jean had sometimes taken to watching REPLAY on a Sunday, not because she hoped to glean any understanding of sports statistics, predictions, or players, but because she so enjoyed watching Patrick work his expertise, and his charm, with the television audience.
There were moments when she felt like she could levitate, float on the delicious sense of well-being that had come with the admission between her and Patrick of their mutual love. That she was in love with Patrick also solidified a connection and the feelings that had withstood the test of time.
And then one day, not long after they’d made their mutual confessions, Jean was hurrying back to her office after lunch with Annabelle, who’d wanted to gossip about the latest scandal involving an acquaintance. As they were saying their goodbyes, Jean’s cell indicated the posting of several texts all at once. She decided they could wait until she reached her desk. But then she encountered Brad on his way to a meeting. In passing he mumbled, “Sorry about the latest reports. It certainly has been a tough summer for the guy…”
Jean had been so confused by the comment she didn’t respond.
At her desk, she turned her attention to all the texts and several voicemail messages. The very first message directed her to a news link. As did the second. Jean turned to her PC and opened a search engine. She randomly picked a network. The top story headline read in bold type: Multimillionaire TV Sportscaster in Baby Daddy Drama.
Jean began reading and got no further than Patrick Bennett’s name, which appeared in the first sentence.
Her skin flushed and she felt overheated. Her mouth went dry. She kept reading the first few sentences over and over. Patrick…popular TV personality…served with papers…sued with request for child support…ex-wife…a son, almost five…
Jean skipped down to see if there were any quotes in response from Patrick. No comment at this time…being handled through our attorneys.
It was already public, and she’d had no idea.
Further down in the report was the revelation that, apparently, Patrick had no previous knowledge that he had fathered a son with his ex-wife until almost a month ago. She had chosen not to inform him, leaving open the question of why she was coming forward with paternity claims and a lawsuit now.
Jean felt herself crashing. She left her office, trying to avoid any coworkers and questions she could not possibly address. The news was stunning enough. But she couldn’t help but wonder what Patrick was going through. How was he handling the news?
How could such a situation have happened?
She left the building to get fresh air. It was raining, which only added to the general aura of scandal and gloom. The news was a life-changing surprise. Jean stood behind one of the massive columns fronting city hall and texted Patrick.
I’ll call you tonight. There’s a lot going on right now. Are you okay? Want/need to talk? I’ll come to you. She hesitated a moment and added a final line: Hugs and kisses.
* * *
Patrick got the messages. And the voicemail. He didn’t respond to either. Jean was the first person who came to mind when his initial suspicions were confirmed in a basic PI report before he and Jean had gone away. After that awful meeting between him and his ex, he wanted to destroy something. And then he wanted the comfort of Jean’s arms. He and his attorney were working out a custody arrangement to present to family court, so it was bewildering that Katie was now making public a situation that put him in the worst possible light…another wealthy man dodging responsibility for his child. No exonerating facts. He had been speechless, unable even to conceive that his ex-wife had kept such a personal and important fact from him. He had a son.
Patrick considered Jean and how she might take the news. Would it change her mind about him? Them? Other than his own family, Patrick hoped she’d be in his corner. Unfortunately, he was becoming used to unexpected revelations. That didn’t mean that she had to. What if this latest complication was one too many? What if…
It was mind-boggling to believe that his ex was capable of such duplicity. Did she hate him so much that she’d withhold life-changing facts from him?
Yet he couldn’t envision having a child. His lifestyle in the last five years had not lent itself to that possibility. He’d been very responsible in his relationships. Being married had been different, and there had also been an unspoken assumption that their careers were, at that time, more important. He was doing well in baseball, having just signed a new league contract. Katie had made the finals for the U.S. Olympic team. She’d scored a bronze medal her first time and was training for a second shot at gold. She didn’t make it. She’d somehow convinced herself it was Patrick’s fault because he hadn’t supported her enough. She filed for divorce. Within a year, she was off the radar in the competitive sports world. She was angry, uncommunicative, unreasonable.
And now they had a child together.
Patrick didn’t call Jean because he didn’t know what to say to her. There was no question that she was deeply concerned, that she was reaching out to him. And he needed her. But he’d been advised by a cadre of attorneys, his accountant, and Ross that he needed to be very careful about who surrounded him who might, even inadvertently, compromise his delicate position, especially where a custody fight was likely to evolve. The court of public opinion may be unfair and shortsighted, but it held clout that couldn’t be denied and might lose him sympathy. He might not do well when pitted against a divorced woman who, once married to a high-profile personality, was a single mother raising a child alone.
It was never going to be lost on Patrick, nor would anyone allow him at this point to forg
et, that he was a millionaire dozens of times over. He had means and the wherewithal to affect the outcome of a lot of things going on in his life. And anyone else’s.
But the truth was, Patrick was feeling not only powerless but disillusioned. It seemed that the only steadying force in his life was Jean. In his heart, Patrick had to face a painful truth that she was the one being shortchanged. And he was the one to blame.
* * *
“Hello?”
There was a deep chuckle on the line. “You sound like how I feel.”
“Oh, Patrick…I’m so glad to hear from you. I thought—”
“I love you, Jean.”
She slumped back against the sofa cushions. She closed her eyes, so much relief rolling over her that she felt weak. “Ditto,” Jean croaked, her voice breaking.
“Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been told to maintain a low profile until the lawyers and family court come to a decision.”
“I know. I’ve been following the reports. Believe it or not, my mom seems to know a lot more about what’s going on. My dad is a close second. I’m just feeling so…so…”
“I know. I know. I think about our island a lot these days.”
She grinned. “Our island. That does have a nice sound.”
“The alternative is to run off and join the circus.”
“Circuses are out of style.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. How are you? Are you getting any sleep? Are you eating?”
Patrick laughed. “Now you sound like my mother. I have to say she seems really happy to know there’s another grandchild. She always knew my sister would marry and have a family. I was the wild card.”
“How do you feel about it? I mean, knowing you now have a son.”
He sighed deeply. “I don’t know yet. I feel like a lot of people lately have been playing Whack-A-Mole on my head. I guess I’m a little weary. I had to go down to Philly to meet my son, Nicholas, for the first time. My ex didn’t want him taken out of the state. The local court rejected that,” he chortled. “I’m too angry with what she’s done to be forgiving and generous. Maybe that will come later.”
“How did it go?”
“Well, they had us in the judge’s chambers, just me, Katie, and Nicholas. Nico. The judge made some opening remarks or something. To be honest I wasn’t listening. I was busy staring at this kid. I suppose he’d been told I’m his father. I don’t know if that means anything to him. Seeing him for the very first time, though, felt kind of exciting. I really wanted to try to make a connection.”
“Just think how hard that was for your son, Patrick,” Jean sympathized.
“It was surreal. This little human being is part of me. He’s a cute little guy, Jean. Later I showed a photo of him to my mom. She started crying. She said he looks just like me and my sister when we were his age. That kind of surprises me. There’s no question he’s mine. I really never doubted it. Katie and I didn’t part on good terms, but I don’t believe she’d try to pass off someone else’s kid as mine. Maybe she’s been really cruel, but I don’t think she’s evil.”
“That’s very understanding of you.”
“Not understanding. Just dealing with the facts. I don’t hate her, but I am royally pissed. I didn’t want to do or say anything that my mother wouldn’t be proud came from me. I feel the same way about you. What you think matters to me. We haven’t seen each other in, like, forever.”
I miss you so much, Jean thought plaintively, swallowing the well of emotion that rose in her throat, brushing away an errant tear she couldn’t prevent from falling. She swallowed hard. “I’m okay. Worried about you. Was he afraid? Did he seem curious about who you are?”
“Not at first. It was clear Nico didn’t know what he should do. We were introduced by the judge and then…nothing. So Katie spoke quietly to him. Then, all of a sudden, he walks across the office and stood right in front of me. And he looks at me with these incredible chocolate eyes, and he says, ‘Are you my daddy?’ Right then and there, he had me.” His voice cracked.
Jean listened to Patrick’s recital, trying to envision the scene and a mini-me of Patrick. But that was harder.
“I said, ‘Yes, I’m your father.’ Then I didn’t know what to do. Should I try to hug him? Should I shake his hand?”
Jean mewed at the poignancy of that moment.
“The kid comes closer and holds out his arms. Luckily, I didn’t embarrass myself. I hugged him. And he let me. So I’m sitting there, and no one else is saying a word, and Nicholas and I are holding on to each other. Jean, I have to tell you…it was an incredible feeling.”
“I’m so glad Nicholas wasn’t afraid of you.”
“But I was very afraid of him. If he’d refused to have anything to do with me, I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“And now?”
“Lots of details to work out. For now, Katie is ordered to let me have Nicholas one weekend a month. We’re staying at my mom’s, so she can get to know him, and she can run interference if he has a meltdown…and I become catatonic with fear.” Jean chuckled quietly. “The visitation time increases when it’s clear he has no problem with me and doesn’t mind the time away from his mother.”
“I guess you did a victory lap after that.”
“I did one better. I went out and had a couple of drinks.”
She laughed again.
“I tried to come to see you, Jean. I needed to be somewhere and with someone that made sense.”
“Why didn’t you say something? When? What happened?”
“I know I have to be careful. But I thought I could sneak out to see you anyway. I drove out to Brooklyn and found about a half dozen people hanging around your building. They all looked suspiciously like press. I knew I’d be recognized so I didn’t try to go in or talk with the doorman. He’d remember me. So I called to see if you were upstairs. I got the answering machine…and your cell voicemail.”
“I figured out about the reporters a week ago. They tried questioning me when I got home one night, but I told them they had the wrong person. I don’t think they believed me, but they didn’t challenge me. Since then I’ve been entering the building through a side door that leads to the recycling area and the laundry room. Outsiders don’t know about that.”
“Very cloak-and-dagger,” Patrick said dryly.
“It would have been fun to have a clandestine meetup with you. We could have snuck through the back alleys and gone to Julio’s for pizza.”
“That was my game plan exactly. Didn’t work out.”
“Will you try again?”
“You can count on it. I’m consulting with my lawyer and Ross on some kind of permanent settlement for my ex. I’ve only had Nico twice, but I think it’s promising. He holds my hand sometimes when we’re out. He asks a lot of questions. He sometimes volunteers information about his mother. I admit I like getting those insider scoops.
“I knew about Nico before you and I went away. I hadn’t met him yet. I wanted to tell you so badly about him, but I was so afraid of doing something to screw up the plan. And I didn’t trust Katie not to try to stick it to me if I didn’t follow the court’s instructions, so…”
“I understand. Don’t apologize.”
She heard him moving around. She couldn’t tell if he was lounging on his sofa or in a chair, or if Patrick was in bed. It was an intimate call without the intimacy. Jean closed her eyes and just listened.
“The very first time I had him for a weekend I woke up on Saturday and found Nico next to me in my bed. That was kind of…kind of…”
“Sweet? I think the word you’re looking for is sweet.”
There was no response, until… “I don’t think so. Not sweet. It wasn’t sweet. It was…awesome.” His tone was filled with elation. “Jean?” His voice dropped to a whis
per. “Can I come out?”
She slowly began to smile in relief. “It’s almost midnight.”
“And your point?”
“Okay.”
Jean was glad, and she was also realistic. Their lives had changed, Patrick’s in particular. Maybe he understood that better than she did, but Jean wasn’t going to fool herself into believing that there was a happy-ever-after ahead of them, over a rainbow. Patrick had instantly acquired lifelong responsibility. She knew he would absolutely rise to the occasion. She knew in the depths of her soul that Patrick loved her, and she loved him. But that also did not guarantee a life together built on their love. She had only to think of her own parents, their circumstances, and the decades before they could fully enjoy each other. Jean tried to allay the creeping fear that she and Patrick could find themselves on a similar merry-go-round. Could she settle for that?
To her astonishment, Patrick was at her door in forty minutes. Her standing by the entrance waiting for him felt normal, comfortable, and left Jean feeling that they’d already established a routine and understanding that was safe and loving.
They kissed at the door, hugged briefly, and Patrick entered, putting his leather mailbag on the floor. He bent to pull off his sneakers and sat slouched on the sofa with his legs stretched out. Jean went into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of popcorn and beer. She curled up next to Patrick, the bowl between them. The conversation was idle and fairly meaningless. It was just that they were together, and that was all either wanted.
“I’ll probably have indigestion in the morning,” Patrick joked, slowly munching and regarding her.
“I don’t want to be a complete pill, but beer isn’t going to help either.” He silently nodded in agreement. “Tell me more about Nico,” she said.
Surprised, Patrick blinked. And then he shook his head. “I’m glad you’re interested, Jean, but I don’t want my son to always take over the conversation.”
