Page 59 of Save the Drama for your Mama
I didn’t budge an inch and held up her hand clamped onto mine. “I’ve told you before, if you want to hold my hand, just ask, or do it without making up some silly excuse.”
Melody’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“You’re still not releasing my hand. Take all the time you need.”
She snorted and dropped my hand like it was a mic. “If you’re not reconsidering, why did you stop like that?”
“I’m a proud son. Can’t a guy take it all in?” I gestured to the sign and pulled out my phone, then took the picture. “There. Now, come on.” I grabbed her hand, just to get a reaction out of her, but to my surprise, she didn’t say a word.
I stopped in front of the door, studying her, wondering why she let me grab her hand like that.
“What?” Melody asked.
“Nothing at all.” I let go of her hand, then reached for the handle to the gallery door to pull it open. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” she said with a reassuring smile.
As we stepped into the gallery, my eyes scanned the room.
That’s when I saw him.
James.
My . . . father.
He was walking toward me with a polite smile, oblivious that I was his son. I drank in every detail of him—the strong line of his jaw; I had the same one. His wavy brown hair was the same shade as mine, although his was gently streaked with gray. He even had a dimple on the right side of his mouth, right where I had mine. It was astonishing to see my father for the first time and recognize so much of myself in him.
Emotions swirled through me. Elation at seeing him in person. Curiosity about whether we shared any mannerisms. Nervousness at how he would react to the bombshell I was about to drop.
“Welcome,” James said, smiling at Melody. “You’ve got the whole place to yourself. I just opened.”
“Lucky us,” Melody said, smiling back. “Your photos are breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” he said, glancing at me, then doing a double-take before getting his eyes back on Melody. “There’s something from every continent, but you’ll notice a large concentration on US National Parks. Let me know if you have questions.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
James glanced at me again, then cocked his head to the side. “You remind me of somebody.”
“Perhaps like a younger version of yourself?” I said.
“Pardon me?” he said, studying my face.
I held out my hand. “I’m Cooper Galloway.”
James shook my hand, then blinked rapidly, like he was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Sandra . . .”
“My mom.” I nodded.
It was time. Time to tell him he had a son, if he hadn’t already figured it out. Time to see if he would welcome me into his life with open arms or run out the back door.
“And as crazy as this may sound . . . I’m your son,” I said.
He stared at me for a long beat. “How is that even possible?”
I grinned. “This is going to be a very awkward conversation if the son has to explain to the dad where babies come from.”
James was still gripping my hand. “You’re my son . . .”
