Page 33 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Her voice fills with immediate concern, and I try to figure out how to tell her what I’ve learned. But I need to tell someone, and she has a right to know, too.

“Mom, it's...” I pause, searching for words that won't come to the front of my mind. “Lara had a baby. My baby. Our son. I have a son.”

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Oh, Lark.” I can hear her heart break in the words and it’s almost enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I blink.

“Four years, Mom. He’s four, and I didn’t know.” Anger surges, alternating with pain. “She never told me. She wasn’t going to tell me. Ever.”

“But she did.”

“How do I forgive her for stealing four years of my son’s life from me?” The bitterness in my voice burns my throat like pure moonshine.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Mom says firmly, the way she hasn’t done since I was a kid facing scraped knees or broken dreams. “Lara made a choice. Maybe it wasn’t the one you wanted, but she did what she thought was right at the time.”

“But I missed everything!” My voice cracks, and I hate how weak and broken I sound.

“Being angry now won't change the past,” she says in a gentle, yet unyielding, voice. “But that anger could cost you a future with him. Your son needs his father, Lark. Don’t lose sight of that.”

She’s right. Of course, she’s right. I can’t throw away a lifetime for four years.

“Okay,” I whisper, the fight draining out of me, replaced by a sense of knowing what I need to do now, even if I don’t want to. “Thanks, Mom.” I can always count on her to guide me in moments like this.

“Go back to her and him,” she says softly. “Go be a dad.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re going to be an amazing father. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Just like that, her voice is gone and I lower the phone, scanning the city and inhaling the cool night air for a few more moments, gathering my thoughts and composure.

Then, with a deep breath, I turn back toward the door, toward my son, toward Lara. It's time to face whatever comes next, not as a man blindsided by the past, but as a father ready to embrace the future.

Lara did what she thought was right at the time. And I can’t say for sure she was wrong. Which also means I can’t hold this against her or it’ll become poison in my veins.

I step back into Lara's penthouse, sliding the glass door closed behind me. She looks up, her eyes wide and worried.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “I needed... a moment.” I rub the back of my neck with one hand, searching for what I want to say next. “I wish you'd felt safe enough to tell me.”

Lara's gaze meets mine, and there's a vulnerability there that tightens something in my chest. She brings one leg to her chest and winds her arms around it while her other foot rests on the floor. Planting her chin on her knee, she looks up at me.

“I wasn’t afraid of you. Just… the company you kept.”

Well, that would have been her mistake. I wasn’t much more trustworthy than those I was working with at the time.

“And I didn't know how.” There’s something hopeless in the way she lifts her shoulders and lets them drop.

“Can I see him?” The question slips out, then more thoughts and ideas follow. “Can I take him home? Just for a bit? My mom—his grandma—she'd love to meet him.”

It's a big ask. I know that. Four years of life, of missed first steps, words, birthdays. Four years of being a ghost father. And now I'm here, trying to scoop up lost time like it's something you can hold.

But Lara shakes her head, a slow, pained motion. “I'm not ready, Lark. This is... it's too much.”

I understand, but this isn’t easy for me, either. Surely she can see that.

“Another day won't make it easier,” I say, the words so quiet I’m not sure she hears them at first.

“Please,” she whispers, and the weight of that single word nearly crushes me. “I need time.”

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