Page 84 of Just My Ex

Before I can say anything, he continues. “I explained all of this to your mother, but basically, Quinn, I have a son. I mean …” He blows out a short quick breath, like he can hardly believe it himself. “I have another son, and I didn’t know about him. His name is Benson Kilpack and he’s definitely my son from a brief relationship I had in Florida before I met Celine.”

“Wow,” Quinn says. “This is … unexpected.”

I have to ask. “Are you sure?” But as I’m saying it, I know it’s a dumb question. Now that I see the family resemblance, I can’t unsee it. I can’t deny it.

“Yes. He found me through one of those DNA companies. His mother, Ellen Rantz, died last year and ever since then, he’s wanted to find me.”

It’s weird discussing my father’s former girlfriend … or whatever she was. “How’s Mom?” I ask.

“She’s … well, she’s surprised. But supportive.” The way my dad laughs, a sort of surprised chuckle, feels affectionate.

“And you had no idea he even existed?” I’m sure there’s all kinds of disbelief in my voice.

“I swear to you, I didn’t,” My dad’s dark eyes are piercing. “It was a summer thing. Destin was a family vacation spot. But it wasn’t a place we went for an entire summer like you kids did in Longdale.” And there’s something about the lines of sadness that cross his face as he mentions Longdale. Could my father be somehow sad that he wasn’t there? That he was running his company all summer instead of swimming in the lake and eating over-the-rim milkshakes?

It's too much of a mind-blowing idea to consider at the moment.

“So you met her, this Ellen Rantz, had a fling, and never contacted her again?” My jaw flexes tightly. That would be so like my father.

“No,” he said simply, his eyes in his lap. “She was a lifeguard at the resort where we were staying. I was twenty-one and she was nineteen. When I saw her the first day of our vacation, we remembered each other from the year before, so it was easy to start up a conversation.” He swallows hard. “Things developed quickly, as summertime relationships have a tendency to do, and at the end of our time at the resort, I asked if we could stay in touch. She agreed. And so I called her every couple of days. Back then, it was long-distance, and there were charges to pay, but I didn’t care because I really liked her. But a few weeks later, she stopped answering, stopped returning my calls. And when I went to Columbia University for my junior year, well, we lost touch completely. Now that I know she was pregnant, I’m assuming that’s why she didn’t reach out to me. She’d found out. Benson was adopted by an aunt and uncle of Ellen’s. Seems she just wanted to forget all about me, about what happened.” He lets out a shaky breath. Is my father getting emotional about this?

“But Benson told me,” Dad continues. “And showed me photos that prove she was always involved in his life. To the family’s credit, at that point, it was an open adoption, which legally didn’t have to be, but I’m assuming since they were family, it worked out that way. Benson has always had her in his life, which was rare, especially back then. She got to be there for his birthdays and graduation and everything. He said he asked her about me when he was in his teens, and she said she didn’t know my full name. Look, I’m trying to make sense of all of this myself, but it has to be like a Band-Aid. Right off.” He gives a humorless laugh. He looks squarely at me. “What do you think about asking everyone to spend their Sunday evening here? Do you think they’d come and I could tell them?”

My father’s asking me my opinion about something?

“If Mom asks them, yes, they’d come.”

Dad nods. “Fair enough.”

Quinn makes a murmuring noise, like she’s mulling everything over. “Will Benson be there when you tell everyone?” she asks.

“I think it might be best to explain that he exists before we bring him by, you know?” My dad says. “Just to ease them into it.”

I nod, weighing how I’d feel if I were them. “I’d say whatever Mom wants, taking into consideration what Benson wants. Did he come here all the way from Florida?”

“No. Seattle. He’s been living in the Seattle area basically his whole adult life, I think. There’s a lot I don’t know, but he’s told me through text he plans to be here in Denver another week or so.”

“So what happened before? Before Oliver’s wedding? Did Benson really threaten you?”

“Look. I was … blindsided when he showed up at my office. I was not prepared and I … well, you know me.” He shoots out a disgusted breath. “I wasn’t very kind about it because I didn’t trust him. I didn’t know him. There’s a lot to protect here, and I had to be cautious.”

Yeah. Dad wanted to protect his money.

He continues. “He came and told me he was my son a week before the wedding. He was emotional, and at the time, I misinterpreted that as being unstable. He picked up Oliver’s wedding announcement off my desk, Henry. Here was this complete stranger, claiming to be my son, and now suddenly, he’s seen that there’s a brother and there’s a wedding and don’t you know, the address is right there on the invitation. I tried to take it from him, and he got upset. I got upset. I said some things.”

My father screws his eyes shut and sighs before opening them back up again. “I don’t do emotions well. Tensions were high, and he said he was going to come to the wedding. He saw a family photo and was shocked. He had no idea he had six half-brothers. And all I could say to him was that I needed proof. He was angry when he left. I was concerned because I didn’t want him to crash Oliver’s wedding.”

Things start to slide into place. “But he never showed?”

“Thankfully, no.” Dad hedges. “I mean, now that I know he really is my son, I guess it could have potentially been okay, but I didn’t want to make this big announcement at the wedding, you know? But when we got back from the wedding, I got a letter in the mail from him.”

“With DNA proof?” Quinn asks.

“Yep. And I got some emails from a lab in Seattle, confirming it. And a nice letter from Benson, apologizing and telling me about Ellen’s passing last year, and he sounded very normal and stable and very much like my son, actually.”

“Why didn’t you tell Mom?”

He gives me a look like I’m a little slow. “What, do something really uncomfortable? Talk about my past?” He winces. “Yeah, no.”

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