Page 12 of Forbidden Romeo

“Those aren’t the same and you know it.”

I snort, pushing off of him and sit up. The moment’s gone, anyway, isn’t it? “Has Megan returned your calls yet?”

With a sigh, Holden rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It’s easily a couple weeks past needing a haircut. “You know she hasn’t.”

“Why did she even come to the theater that night if she was just going to launch this grenade between us, then not do anything about it?”

He scrubs his palm down his face. “I don’t know, Katherine. I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that that little boy is either my son… or my brother. And either way, he’s family. I won't turn my back on family.”

“I know that,” I whisper. Hot tears fill my eyes, the full weight of this week catching up with me.

We’re both irritable, drowning in stress without a life raft in sight. In the midst of our frustrations and despair, it’s easy to forget why we care about each other. I reach out and squeeze Holden’s hand, pulling it into my lap.

“She was trying to tell me something the night of my mom’s wake,” Holden says quietly. “But I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to hear it.” He pauses to snort. “I don’t even know if my dad knows about this kid or not.”

There’s not a doubt in my mind that Erik Dorsey knows about Meg’s child. But it doesn’t feel right to say so. Not yet.

“Well, we’ll be back in New York tomorrow and start sorting all this out,” I offer, hoping it sounds more supportive than I feel. I’m not sure what to make of all this yet. Within a couple of months, I reconnected with Holden, lost my father, and potentially gained a future stepson. It was a lot for just about anyone.

But what I know is that I want to be with Holden. And if that means we become a blended family sooner than we thought? So be it.

Holden stands and tugs his suitcase from my closet, opening it and tossing his clothes inside. “You don’t have to come with me yet, you know. You can stay here and be with your Mom longer.”

“They’ve already pushed the opening of our show back more than a week for me. I can’t make them do that again. McCay would kill me.”

“Fuck McCay,” he snarls.

“I’m ready for life to resume. I’ve never felt at home here in Indiana.”

“I’m just saying, you can take more time if you need it.”

Frustration prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. I lean back against the headboard and sigh. I know Holden is just trying to be considerate, but all I want is for things to go back to normal. Or at least, the new normal we’re forging together in New York.

“And I’m just saying, I don’t need it. I need to be back home. On the stage.”

A soft knock at the bedroom door makes us both jump.

"Kate? Can I come in?" my mom's muffled voice calls out, diffusing our growing tension.

“Come on in, Mom,” I say as I slide off the bed and straighten my clothes while Holden quickly zips up his suitcase.

Mom peeks in, eyes darting between us knowingly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

"We were just packing up to head back to the city tomorrow," I explain.

"Of course, of course," Mom says, and fidgets with a box she’s holding in her hands. She looks uncharacteristically nervous.

"Was there something you needed, Mom?" I prompt.

"Oh! Yes, sorry." Her cheeks flush pink. "Two things, actually. First: this is for you.”

I step forward and take the simply wrapped box from my mom, confused. But quickly, I recognize the handwriting of my name on the card taped to the front.

My dad’s.

Four little letters in his thick, bold cursive.

“Your dad has had this gift for you for years.”

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