Page 45 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

Our son's laughter drifts in from outside, a sound that never fails to bring joy to my heart. I’m looking forward to dinner, and as I help my mother finish placing food on the table, I make my way to the back door.

“Time to wash up, champ,” I call out toward the backyard. He barrels through the door, grass stains on his jeans, his little face red with heat and excitement, and twigs in his hair.

“Grandma says I can have ice cream now!” His voice is high-pitched with glee as he skids to a stop in front of us.

“Is that so?” I arch an eyebrow at Mom, feigning surprise. She winks at him, the same mischievous glint in her eyes that I remember from my own childhood. Dessert before dinner is a family tradition, and I love that she’s already sharing them with him.

“Let’s get your hands washed,” she says, leading him toward the kitchen as Lara creeps closer to me.

“That’s so cute. I love that you have that family tradition,” Lara says.

“It’s a reminder that you can’t always save the best for last, since you never know which moment will be your last.” It’s a rule that took root after my father passed, and it’s one that I love coming home to. It’s not one I tend to apply to my own life – I don’t often have dessert, to be honest – but when I come home, it’s a cherished memory.

They come out of the bathroom, and he somehow looks squeaky clean. His hair is combed, and he’s a perfect model of a young man, save the grass stains on his knees.

“You clean up well, young man,” I tease.

I feel Lara elbow me in the ribs. “Like his father.”

I know she’s teasing me, but she might not realize she just admitted she thinks I look good, and that’s a thought that’s thrilling and telling all at once.

“Thanks, Grandma!” he says, rushing toward his mom to get a hug.

“Thank your dad and Lara,” my mom says, nodding toward us. “They said it was okay for you to have dessert first.”

“Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.” He’s quick to leap into his seat as my mom leaves the room and comes back with ice cream and bowls. Mint chocolate chip, because she knows what the best flavor is.

“I have to hear the backstory for this one,” Lara says softly into my ear, and I promise to tell her when there aren’t little ears around or a dinner I want to bring sadness to.

Win digs right into his ice cream and I can’t help but chuckle. “Slow down there, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Don’t want you to choke, or worse… get a brain freeze.”

He nods seriously as if the thought of a brain freeze is certainly worse than choking.

We settle into our seats, the table heavy with comfort food that warms the room and makes my mouth water with the rich scents. The conversation drifts naturally around our son – and grandson - the center of our universe.

“He's doing great in school,” Lara says. “Well, not school. But he’s already being tutored, you know? And gymnastics class—he loves it.”

“Really?” My mother’s eyebrows lift, clearly pleased by how amazing her grandson is, which makes sense.

“Yep, and he's got a whole circle of friends. Play dates almost every weekend.” I watch Lara talk, loving how animated she is and happy to talk about him. I love that about her; she’s an incredible mom and it shows in him, the way she talks about him, and his ability to thrive.

“You're doing an amazing job with him,” I say, meaning every word.

Her cheeks flush a soft pink, a color that somehow suits her and softens her intensity. She looks away, but not before I catch the twinkle of unshed tears. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for her, being a single mom who is both a career woman and incredibly involved in her child’s life.

“Thank you,” she says, poking a bite of chicken.

“Your son is wonderful, Lara,” Mom chimes in, echoing my thoughts. “And it's clear you've been an incredible mother.”

“Thank you, both of you.” She sounds embarrassed this time, but I don’t mind that. I want her to know that not only do we see that she’s done a fantastic job, but that we’re in awe and proud of what she’s accomplished and the life she’s given him this far.

“Family is everything,” Mom says, reaching across the table to squeeze Lara's hand.

“You’re right,” Lara says, her tone sweet and soft.

I can’t help but wonder if this is the start of something new. A friendship. A family coming together for the sake of our son. A group of people who will champion one another every step of the way because that’s what family does.

No matter what, I want to see what happens next, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us.

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