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“I got you a chai latte.” I slide it to her. “It used to be your favorite. Hope it’s not cold.”
“Thanks.” Her hands wrap around the paper cup. “And thanks, y’all, for meeting me like this. I thought we should talk before we go to my house. It’s just around the corner.”
“Does he know we’re coming?” Colt asks.
“Yes,” Reese answers. “I told him that his biological father, the man I made a baby with in college, is coming to meet him today. Forrest keeps asking what his name is, but I said his father wants to tell him.”
Colt nods, but Beau is fuming, staring at her like he can’t accept it.
He seethes, asking Reese, “Why did you name him Forrest? Was that to fuck with Colt’s head or mine?”
Reese drops her gaze, spinning the cup in her hand. “No. It was never to hurt you, either of you. After I realized what I did, I wanted to give him a happy name. A name I associated with hope and unconditional love. The name of a good friend, a good father, a good man, and all that.”
She wipes a tear off her cheek. “Beau,” she lifts her eyes to him, “I’m so sorry I hurt you, too. You were always good to me. You saved me until I could save myself. And there’s no excuse for what I did. I’ve told Colt I’m sorry so many times, but Blair’s right. I need to make amends with actions, not just words.”
She turns her watery eyes to Colt. “Whoever Forrest’s father is, I promise you can see him as much as you want. Jake agreed. This has been hard on our marriage, but we’ll get through it. He knows it’s best for Forrest.”
“Do you have the test results?” Colt sounds gruff, like he’s choked up, so I reach for his hand. He holds it while Reese pulls a manilla envelope from her bag.
“I haven’t opened this,” she says. “I respected your wishes. You’ll be the first to know.”
She hands it to Colt. I let go of his hand so he can open it.
The papers tremble in his grasp, and I glance at Beau. He sees it, too. How Colt has waited so long for this.
“I hope Forrest is his.” That’s what Beau told me this morning in the shower. Colt was still asleep. I crawled out of bed, and Beau followed me. The weight of this day hung over us, so he held me in the shower, nuzzling his forehead to mine while he confessed, “I’ll love Forrest if he’s mine. Heck, I’ll love that boy no matter what. But I love Colt so much; I want Forrest to be his. I can’t ever hurt Colt. I can’t take his son from him.”
We hold our breath, watching Colt read the letter, his hand crumpling the paper. A tear falls over his lashes, streaming down to his beard, making me cry, too.
He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. He’s praying to his mom, I know. I do the same when I need help.
More of his tears fall, and I grab Beau’s thigh, squeezing to hang on. To will this to finally go right for Colt. To finally give him peace.
“He’s mine,” Colt sighs, another tear escaping. “Forrest is mine.”
I exhale, a stream of tears pouring down my cheeks. Beau sighs with heavy relief, wrapping his arm around me.
“Your mom always believed it,” Reese gently adds. “She said Forrest may look like me, but he has your soul. She said she could see it in his eyes.”
Colt nods, clenching his jaw. I can see him fighting his flood of tears that wants to escape.
“Can we go see him now?” He coughs, begging, “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”
It’s five quick minutes around some turns, driving up hills through a tree-lined neighborhood to Reese’s home.
Autumn leaves dot her front lawn. Her home is quaint and craftsman-style, with a holiday wreath hanging on her door. You can tell it’s a warm, loving home.
The day is sunny and crisp. Beau parks his truck by the curb in front of Reese’s house, but we wait. Reese asked us to while she disappears through her front door for a few minutes.
“We’ll stay here for an hour, and then we’ll meet him, too.” Beau looks in the rearview mirror, telling Colt, “Okay, babe? You tell him and take your time with him. You’ve waited long enough for this.”
“I’m nervous,” Colt mutters. “What if he hates me?”
I turn around in my passenger seat. Colt won’t let me ride in the back, but now I wish I were there with him, holding him. Instead, I reach, holding his knee. “It’ll be okay. He’s going to love you. Heck, he already does. He’s your biggest fan.”
The front door opens, and the little boy emerges with his parents behind him.
“Oh, god. Your mom was right,” I gasp, seeing him in person. “Forrest does look like you, Colt. He’s you up one side and down the other.”
