Page 40 of Who's Your Daddy
My stomach bottoms out. This kid. This fucking perfect amazing kid. My son. With a shake of my head, I pull out my phone. Not because she deserves to talk to him, but because he deserves it all. The whole world.
He takes it and gives me the briefest of smiles. “Thanks, Cal. Can I go in the other room?”
I look to Lola because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Do I let him call her alone? Can I say no?
Nodding, she stands. “Sure. You can use my bedroom.”
The two of them disappear, and I’m pretty sure my heart goes with them.
I’m angry. So fucking pissed. How could his mum do this? And how in the bloody hell am I going to make it better?
I’m still in my head when Lola comes back and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“No.” My voice is gruff, unrecognizable. “He rode goddamn public transport home from school. He knows his mum has jet lag. He knows too fucking much for a six-year-old.” I dig the heel of my hand into my eye socket. “He’s six, Lola. I’ve missed everything.”
With a squeeze of my hand, she sits beside me, her eyes filled with understanding. “I hate that you’ve missed so much. But that’s changed now. He has you. And Sully and Brian are here.”
And you, I want to whisper.You promised him you are too.The words almost escape me. The next question clawing its way up my throat.Are you here for me as well?
But I choke it back. I’m not a child and she owes me nothing.
“He’s smart, Lola.” I groan. “He’s bloody brilliant.”
She smiles. “He is.”
My chest deflates. “And I’m not.”
She levels me with a glare, those green eyes piercing into my soul. “You went to Harvard.”
I slump back in my chair. “But I didn’t have to try. I never cared. It all came easy.”
Lips pressed together, she assesses me for a long moment. “Sounds like it does for him as well. Maybe you’re more alike than you think.”
“The difference is that he does care. He wants to learn and I… I don’t know how to do this.”
She sighs and shifts in her seat. “That admission proves that even if you don’t know how, you’ll figure it out. You care, Cal and that’s half the battle. My parents—” She shakes her head, cutting herself off.
My gut churns. I don’t know what she’ll say but the defeat in her expression sets me on edge. Normally she’s annoyed at me, snarky, strong-willed. At the mere mention of her parents though, she just seems tired.
“They didn’t care about school,” she explains. “I loved it. I constantly wanted to learn more. They just wanted to focus on the fun.”
My throat constricts, making it hard to breathe. She probably thinks that's all I care about too. I’m the fun one. The fun uncle, as T.J. says. I wanted to be the fun dad. What the hell do I know?
She settles her warm hand on mine again. “You’re both. You care about the fun stuff, but you care about the hard stuff too. You’re doing okay, Cal. I’m—” Her gorgeous green eyes glisten as they settle on me, enveloping me in a sensation that’s almost as comforting as a real hug. The kind of hug I wish she’d actually give me. “You’ll be fine.”
Worried she’s on the edge of tears, I clear my throat and shoot for lightening the mood. “Walkie-talkies are fun right?”
She shakes her head, smiling.
I lean forward. “Can you imagine if other things were named like walkie-talkies?”
With a huff, she pulls her hand away. “What?”
“Like that fork.” I nod to the unused utensil beside my plate. “It’d be stabby-grabby.”
She snorts.
“Your bra.”
