Page 151 of Back to Willow

“Dylan, baby,” she calls.

He visibly huffs before slowly turning back to us and begrudgingly walking toward us.

“Mum,” he hisses. “Don’t call me baby in public.”

“Right,” she giggles, unaffected.

“Daaaad,” he groans, and I finally snap out of my stupor, chuckling nervously. “Tell her not to call me baby. I’m no baby.”

“Sorry, bud. She’s the boss.” I shrug my shoulders.

Willow ignores us, looking slightly down at him to say, “I was telling your dad I think it’s about time you have his surname, too. What do you think?”

His eyes widen, looking at her, then at me. Then at her again, and I’m suddenly terrified. What if he doesn’t agree? What if, despite calling me dad, he doesn’t see me as one?

Fuck.I’ve never had my confidence wavering this hard.

“Oh,” he mumbles, now deep in thought. “Will I no longer have yours?”

My heart somersaults, and I think Willow’s does, too, with the way she instantly lets go of me and hugs him to her. He’s squished against her chest—that’s how tall he is.

“No, no,” she coos. “You’ll have both of our names. Both of us, always.”

He keeps quiet for a long time, deep in thought as fear creeps inside me.

What if he doesn’t want it?

“Why haven’t we done that yet?” he asks instead, the light blue hues of his irises curiously peeking up at me. It’s still daunting at times, how much we look alike.

I shrug, not really knowing why. I guess it never crossed my mind before. The only thing that would change would be the papers. In my life, my head, and my heart, Dylan is my kid. There aren’t enough papers in this world that can tell me otherwise.

“I’ve thought about it often,” Willows mumbles. “But I wanted you to understand what it means and have a say in it, too.” Then she glances at me before continuing, “I feel like it’s time.”

“When can we do it?”

“Oh, um…” she trails off.

I’m still in the same place, looking at them. At a loss for words and movements. I have probably turned into stone by now.

“Whenever you both want,” she finally answers.

“I…yes.” Still wordless.

“Dad,” Dylan calls, coming up to me.

He pulls on my arm, motioning his hand for me to bend down to his height. And finally, I move.

“The ring,” he whispers.

What?

“What?” I stutter, dumbstruck.

“The ring,” he hisses. “Ask her now.”

Oh.Oh!

“Now?” I ask, and he nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah.”

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