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“Wow, the only family I’ve ever had was my mom. She doesn’t have anyone, either. You have a really big family.”
“And now you do, too.” I wink at him as I nod toward the picture, “My dad was one of eight siblings, so that’s just your immediate family. There are so many Knights around this town, you won’t be able to count them all.” I laugh as his eyes bulge again, but I can see the anticipation of meeting them shining bright.
I go over to the desk in the spare bedroom and pull out a family album that my mother gave me on my last birthday. I hand it to Connor as we open it. I figured he’d soon grow bored with the endless pictures, but I watch as he eagerly asks about each photo. The last section of the album is pictures from one of our family cookouts. He’s like a sponge wanting to know who is who and how they’re related to him.
We finish the last page, and I tell him about my brother’s boat and the boathouse when the doorbell rings. I watch as the smile disappears from his face, and he turns toward me. His voice is barely above a whisper, “My mom’s gonna be mad.”
I awkwardly wrap my arm around his shoulders and say gruffly, “Maybe, but she loves you, and she’ll just be relieved that you’re safe.”
Four
Anna
My hand raises, and I ring the doorbell, hearing the sound of chimes faintly through the thick door. Taking a deep breath, I try to control the frantic beating of my heart. I try to uncoil the knot of dread that settled in my stomach ever since I got Carson’s phone call.
I wipe my damp palms down my jeans and try to keep them from shaking. Oh, God. What possessed Connor to come here? Alone? I know he’s been yearning for a male presence in his life, but he’s only ten. Anything could have happened to him on that bus ride.
And let’s face it, the dull ache in my chest is from a blend of hurt and anger. My son kept this visit a secret and came to see his father, a complete stranger, by himself.
The door suddenly swings open. Nothing could have lessened the impact of seeing Carson again. The air catches in my throat, and my heart continues to pound loudly in my chest. I feel like I’m about to faint as my head swims and my eyes rise to meet his.
They are the same piercing blue and hold no warmth or hint of softened emotions after all these years. In fact, they seem colder, harder, like chips of ice as they rake over me.
He steps back, gesturing for me to enter the apartment.
My gaze darts to Connor, his small frame standing hesitantly beside his father. Relief washes over me as I rush toward him.
I wrap my arms around him and give him a hard hug. As I hold him close, I steal a glance at the man beside him. The years have added lines around his eyes, his dark hair is the same but in a different style. If anything, he’s broader now, his form sculpted with hard muscles that weren’t there before.
I turn as I step back, my hands still on Connor’s shoulders, and take a good look at my son. I have to ensure that he’s okay. I guess I take too long because he gives one of his signature shrugs, trying to dislodge my grasp.
I let my hands fall to my sides while a sense of dread, heavy and cold, settles in my stomach. Then, with reluctance and a deep breath, I turn slowly toward his father.
Carson’s face looks carved from granite as he states quietly, “Let’s all have a seat.” I follow him into a contemporary living room decorated in warm, neutral tones of beige and brown.
I tentatively sit down on a buttery, soft brown leather sectional. Connor lowers his lanky frame beside me. Carson sits across from us in a matching armchair.
My mouth feels painfully dry as I try to gather my thoughts. The words I prepared on my way here have disappeared scattered, and my mind is a blank slate.
Carson leans forward, picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table in front of us, and hands it to me. I take it, my vision blurring as the words swim on the page. It’s the DNA report. When I glance up again, I notice two pairs of eyes focused intently on my face. Both Connor and Carson stand. Waiting.
I lick my lips and state in a voice that barely wavers, “Connor is our son. You’re his father.”
I watch as Carson closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them, they’re filled with a whirlwind of emotion. He turns to Connor, who approaches him cautiously. They both stop just a foot or two away from each other. Their gazes study each other with a solemn intensity.
As Carson pulls our son into an embrace, I hear Connor mutter, “Don’t mess up my hair this time.” I see Carson’s lips twitch as he holds back a smile. Their emotional reunion clearly happened before I arrived. I swallow the bitter disappointment that knowledge gives me. Until now, it’s just been me and my son, weathering the highs and lows together.
My breath catches in my throat as I realize our entire lives are about to change.
I’ve lived with my fear, wondering what would happen if Carson ever found out about Connor. Surely, he wouldn’t keep my son from me. I feel the fear raise its ugly head again as I witness the bond forming so easily between them. I swallow it down. I can’t deny them this closeness.
A boy needs his father. I frown at the unease of keeping them apart, but it’s not like Carson was open to communicating with me. I push the wave of guilt to the back of my mind and paste a smile on my face. I blink to keep the wetness on my lashes from falling. I draw in another shaky breath.
Once Carson loosens his hold, he keeps his arm around Connor’s shoulders as they turn toward me.
“Can we eat now?” Connor asks with a hopeful glance at me and his father, “Aren’t you guys hungry?”
I see the smile spread across Carson’s face before he openly chuckles, “You’re a growing boy. I was always hungry at your age, too.”
