Page 44 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“I know that look,” she says, stepping closer. Her eyes are deep with understanding. She reaches up, her hand cupping my cheek as she rises on her toes. I bend down slightly, meeting her halfway. Her lips press against my forehead, a warm peck that smells like home and cinnamon.

“You have nothing to be worried about,” she says in an attempt to assure me. It doesn’t work, because my mind has decided to run through every possibility of what can go wrong, and I can’t make it stop.

“Now stop torturing yourself.” A smile deepens the creases at the corners of her eyes.

“Easy for you to say,” I say, the corners of my mouth quirking up despite the tightness in my chest.

“Because I’m right and you know it.” She steps back, hands on her hips, looking me up and down in a way that makes me feel like a child again. “You're a good man, Lark. A good father. Your boy knows that.”

“Does he?” He hasn’t really had the time to come to know me or that fact. And what if I’m not a good father? What if I’m screwing everything up?

“Without a doubt.” She moves past me, fussing over some trinket on the mantelpiece. “Love isn't measured in minutes or miles. It's the quality of those moments you do get, the depth of your presence when you are there.”

I blink, thinking about all my interactions so far with my son. If she’s right, then I’m doing pretty good. That thought brings me some relief.

“Thanks, Mom.” I exhale, suddenly feeling a little more at ease about everything.

“Thank me by relaxing and enjoying tonight.” She glances back at me, her expression stern but loving.

“Okay, Mom,” I say with a playful attitude like I’m a teenager again.

“Good.” She smiles, not at all fooled by my response. “Now, help me with these plates.”

“Sure thing.” I follow her into the kitchen, ready to face the evening ahead and grateful she’s finally letting me help out.

A steady knock sends my heart through the roof. Mom's hand gives the small of my back a gentle nudge, propelling me forward.

“Go let them in,” she says, excitement filling her voice. “I'll finish setting the table.”

With a swift spin, she disappears into the kitchen, leaving a trail of excited words about meeting her grandson and the woman who stole her son’s heart. I can't help but smile, her anticipation and excitement have her more animated than I can remember her being in a long time.

I shake my head, refusing to let nerves darken my mood. We’re going to have a good time and enjoy a family dinner together. But what if things don’t go well tonight?

I shove the thought out of my mind as stand before the door. “Relax,” I mutter under my breath, steeling myself before pulling the door open.

Lara stands there, our son's hand clasped in hers, both of their faces lighting up at the sight of me. His eyes, bright and wide, shift past me, eager for adventure.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, my voice soft but filled with warmth as I hunker down to his level. He beams, squeezing his mom's hand before stepping toward me.

“I have something to show you,” I say, winking at Lara before leading our son toward the backyard.

His gaze finds the towering wooden play structure. It’s a fortress of fun, a place for his imagination to run wild and for him to work off some of that endless energy he has while he’s here. His squeal of delight has me chuckling as he gives me a quick hug around the knees and dashes off.

“You never cease to surprise me,” Lara says, watching him with a mix of pride and relief.

“I’d do anything for him,” I say. And this is such a small gesture, making sure he feels welcome here because it’ll be one more home he gets to enjoy as he grows.

We turn back inside, entering the warmth of the dining room. The scent of roasting chicken fills the air, mingling with a subtle hint of fresh herbs. My mother stops moving, studying Lara’s face before opening her arms to the woman I love.

“Hello, Lara,” she says, her voice rich with sincerity.

Lara glances at me, then steps into my mother’s hug. The embrace seems to last an eternity, and to my amazement, Lara hugs her back. It’s like a silent surrender to the love offered.

“Thank you for this,” Mom says, pulling back just enough to look Lara in the eyes. A tremor of gratitude leaves her voice unsteady and Lara nods.

“Of course,” Lara says as if there was no other option; this is something that had to happen. And I’m grateful she sounds warm and happy and not bitter at that fact.

I stand there, watching these two incredible women connect over my son. For the first time in a long while, I feel the edges of my worries start to crumble. Things are amazing, and I have trust that they’ll only get better from here. And if they don’t, well, I’ll find a way to stack the deck in my favor.

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