Page 22 of Forever My Boy

I know Mason and Noah are going to be close. I’ll forever be in debt to Mason for stepping up for my son when he didn’t have to. Neither did Katelyn. They could’ve ditched me as my friends and left me all alone.

Mason has everyone laughing again when Noah’s little arm rises, and Mason gives him a high-five. They've been doing this throughout my pregnancy.

“Do you guys mind if I spend some time with Noah for a bit.”

“Not at all, sweetie,” mom says. “We’ll be in the waiting room. Just let us know when you’re ready for company again.”

Everyone gives me a kiss on my cheek, and finally Mason hands my son to me. “Thank you for keeping him. I’m going to be there every step of the way. You’re not doing this alone.”

“I know.”

I wait until the door closes and then cradle my son. My finger trails down the side of his face and his cheek lifts. The sight makes me smile, but he makes me cry.

“I wish things were different for you,” I tell him. “You have a dad out there, who I think would love to know you some day. I don’t know when that day will be, so until then, your uncle Mason is going to fill that role. I’m sorry I couldn’t make your dad stay. I tried. You’re going to grow up in a town where everyone knows who your dad is. Just know I’m going to protect you from all of it. I don’t know how, but I will. From this day forward, you are the love of my life, Noah. There isn’t a single thing I won’t do for you. Mommy loves you more than anything, my sweet, sweet boy.”

Someone knocks on the door and the nurse comes in. “How are we doing?”

“Good,” I tell her.

“A couple of things,” she says. “We want to get him nursing and we want to get you up. Which would you like to try first?”

“I’m good to try nursing.”

“Okay, and the other.” She sets a card down on the table. “His name?”

“Noah Michael Preston,” I tell her with no hesitation. I thought long and hard about whether my child would haveWestbury as a last name and each time I said it, it made me ill. There was no way I would let him out in this world with that last name and no one to protect him.

The next day, when the nurse brings my discharge papers, I ask her about the hospital bill, unsure how the insurance works. “Sweetie, you don’t have a bill.”

“How is that possible?”

“A good Samaritan paid for everything,” she says before she goes over my discharge with me.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who paid. There is only one person I know with that much money.

My question is: did she tell her son?

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