Page 10 of Wilder
“You told me from the start you wanted to be involved. And with how everything happened, it got all fucked-up.”
He draws in a painful-sounding breath. “Shit happens the way it does for a reason. I don’t blame you anymore. I told you that. No one was looking out for you or Chase.” His eyes bore into mine. “But I’m here to do that now. And eventually—when Chase is ready and not before—I do want him to know I’m his daddy. If you think that’s what’s best for now, we’ll go with it. I can wait.”
My chest stutters, and tears leak down my cheeks. A strangled sound of distress erupts from my lips. I never expectedhim to respond like this. I thought maybe he’d argue. Or shout. Something.
Instead, he grasps my face in both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the liquid emotion from my cheeks. “I will defer to you. We’ll do what you think is best. We’re both his parents, but you’re his safe space. You’re the one he trusts.”
It’d be impossible for me to pull away from Royal if I wanted to, and there’s no place for me to run. But that’s okay because I don’t want to hide away from him anymore. I want him to catch me and hold on. My chest grows tight before I whisper the inevitable. “You’re his daddy. I’m not denying that. I never have.” I draw in a gulping breath as I shake my head. “Never. He’ll know. I promise.”
We stare steadily at each other, a whole new understanding growing between us. He releases my face, grasping both hips in his big hands, and tugs me closer to him. “Don’t cry, baby.” His tongue flicks out, collecting an errant tear on the tip before he swipes it over my bottom lip. One second my heart trips, and the next, I fall. We sink into a salty kiss born of desperate needs and heartbroken wants.
“Mama!”
We jerk apart in response to the excited voice of our son, and I spin in Royal’s hold, hurriedly wiping my face of any remaining wetness. The doorknob rattles for a split second, then the door flies open. Chase bursts in, wide-eyed and chipper, running toward me in a slightly unstable, sleepy fashion. “Mama, you home!” His exuberance knows no bounds, but everything comes to a screeching halt when he realizes I’m not alone.
My stomach flips around and drops. Drawing in a quick breath, I hope my voice doesn’t crack as I murmur, “Hey, baby. Come here.” I beckon to him, and despite the fact that he’s a little unsure of whoever is behind me, he races over, hugging my legs and burying his face between them.
Behind me, Royal clears his throat, and his warm hand lands on the small of my back, in a silent show of support. I pivot, easing Chase away from my legs. “Chase, I want you to finally meet someone in per—” And before I can finish, his little body practically shoots into the air. I swear, my hands on his shoulders are the only things preventing him from taking flight.
“Woyal! What you doing wit Mama?” He bounces up and down for several seconds in my hold.
A grin a mile wide spreads across Royal’s face. It’s priceless. “Hi, Chase. I came for a visit. I wanted to meet you. Your mommy said it was okay. Is it okay with you?” His voice is relatively steady, but holy shit. Oh my god, there’s definitely a sheen of tears in his eyes. I’m not imagining it. He draws in a ragged breath.
I squat down, tugging Chase back against me and turning him so I can see his face. “Would it be fun for you to play with Royal this morning?” My gaze flicks to Royal, my brows raised.
“Yeah, I’d love that, Chase. Maybe we can go outside for a while.”
Chase nods excitedly, then before I can stop him, he pulls away from me, stepping closer to Royal with his forefinger tapping his bottom lip. “We go eat Pop-Tawts fiwst?”
Royal laughs. “Um, yeah, we can do that. You like Pop-Tarts?”
The giggle that trips out of Chase’s mouth has me all choked up. I roughly clear my throat. “He does. But he knows he only gets them on Saturday mornings.”
“Noted.” Royal chuckles.
“Come on, Woyal! Yet’s go!” Chase runs to the doorway as fast as his feet will carry him.
Before joining our son on his mad dash downstairs, Royal hooks his hand at the nape of my neck, tipping my head to claimmy lips again. He kisses me soft and slow until Chase shouts, “Woyal, you coming?”
I laugh into our kiss as he begins to pull away, then pat his chest. “Welcome to fatherhood, Royal. Your life is no longer your own.”
His eyes burn into mine. “My life is exactly how I fuckin’ want it to be.”
FIVE
ROYAL
My son.I shake my head in disbelief as I stare at Chase sitting at the corner of the table. I’ve finally met my son. And he’s so fucking cute. All his adorable mannerisms and the way he talks and his excitement over every little thing. It all has me inwardly laughing as I study this part of me I didn’t know existed until a week ago. He’s like a miniature version of myself running around but with Echo’s sassy attitude.
He lifts his arms over his head, Pop-Tart in hand, and breaks it in half. Crumbs fall all over the high-chair contraption he’s seated in. I chuckle to myself, realizing the mess caught by the tray in front of him is why he’s not seated at the table yet, even though it looks like he’s outgrown it.
“You’re a mess maker, Chase.”
He gives me a cheeky grin and shoves a piece of the pastry into his mouth, bopping his head happily. “I yub Pop-Tawts. You eat, too,” he demands, pointing a chubby finger at me.
“Will do, man. I’m on it.” I open my mouth wide and take a big bite, making a show of chewing it as a cheesy grin spreads across my face. I want to laugh and cry and scream over how being with this kid makes me feel.
Pretty fucking sure Chase’s laughter can be heard throughout the house, and I don’t even care. He deserves to be happy. Every kid does.
