Page 22 of Always You
Oh, fuck,I feel a stab right in my chest.Stab, stab, stab.
“Honey, we can get you a toy in just a minute. Let me get what I need first,” she coos to the small child.
“Okay, Mommy.”
Oh hell, it is her son. Gasping for air, I feel as if my ribs are collapsing. She turns around to see where the noise came from. I attempt to make a run for it before she sees me, but it’s too late. Her forest green eyes are on mine. Her eyes darken with anger at the sight of me. A growl escapes her lips.
The little boy stands next to Mila, his brown eyes behold mine. He tilts his head, squints his eyes as he observes me. My breathing picks up beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. He looks so familiar, his long black eyelashes, big dimples… olive skin, and Mila’s black hair.
Mila stiffens as she watches my gaze bounce back and forth from the boy to her. I’m perplexed. His features resemble me when I was a child. It can’t be, can it? I’m about to open my mouth to speak when I hear Samantha’s voice.
“Hi, nice to see you again. Sorry, I forgot your name. What is it?” she asks coarsely.
“Mila,” she says icily.
“Is this your son?” Samantha snickers dryly.
Mila chews on her bottom lip as she holds the little boy’s hand. “Umm… yes, this is my son.” Her eyes dart between us before she cuts our gaze.
My mouth drops open and I can't speak. He looks so much like me when I was a kid. He has to be mine. How in the hell can this be? It’s been five years.
Her son looks up at me, his deep dimples are visible.
“Hi, my name is—”
Mila interrupts. “His name is Dante.” Her breath comes out shaky.
My eyes widen.
“Nice to see you two. We better go.” She’s about to sprint off when I grasp her arm, squeezing softly in desperation.
I whisper close for her only to hear, “How old is he, Mila?”
“Four,” she snaps.
Shoving me away, Mila dashes off.
Dante turns around and smiles at me. He waves. The air whizzed into my lungs. A stream of fiery blood rushed through me, pulsing at my fingertips. My chest feels like it's going to burst. Why didn’t she tell me? My mind is churning with so many emotions and confusion.
Our son, we have a son. Where in the hell has she been all this time? Why did she leave me if we have a son? Mila named him after me. Dante is my middle name. Shit, I completely forgot Samantha is with me.
“Why are you staring at her like that, Dominic, and why did you whisper in her ear?” Her voice is sharp with jealousy. “Like you know her. Do you know her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bark out, irritated. “Let’s go. I need to get home.” I’m not in the mood for her interrogation.
The drive to Samantha’s is quiet she glowers out the window. I get out of my pickup to help her out.
“Samantha,” I call out.
She slams the door viciously, and I hand her the shopping bags. She seizes them from my hold without a word and storms off. Pulling out of the driveway, I speed back to my place. I’m outraged that Mila excluded me from the role of being a father, hiding my son from me. Trailing back, she was pregnant at the hospital when I last spoke to her, wondering if she knew then. From what I remember—I was told you’re not fertile when on chemo.
Shit, but he looks just like me.It’s not the fucker’s kid she was with he looks nothing like him. Tomorrow I’ll set foot in her studio. We need to talk about Dante. So many questions, and I don’t intend to be friendly about it. She owes me an explanation. Her betrayal cuts deeper than I realized.
seven
MILA
Iscroll through my mental grocery list as I wander down the aisle of Target: lasagna ingredients, and a chocolate cake for dessert.Crap, I forgot to grab the paper towels.I turn my cart around and head back to the household goods are.
