Page 48 of Secret Baby for Mr. Grump

She would never fuck anyone else except me.

She was mine.

And as Neanderthal as the feeling was, there was nothing I could do about it now that it had taken hold of me.

I felt like a caveman when I took her and when I came with orgasms that nearly blinded me. I’d stared into her eyes then—as I held myself back and felt her clenching heat on me—and knew then that I was a goner.

There was no way of fighting this intense hold she had on me, no way of dissociating myself from her.

I’d had sex before. But never like this.

This was something that fucking owned my soul.Sheowned my soul.

The mother of my child.

An indescribable sensation went through me at the realization.

I had a child. With Allie. A little boy who should be about seven years old now. I’d missed out on a lot of key moments in his life, and while I wanted to be mad about it, I really couldn’t. How could I be mad at her when I was the one who’d cut off contact on the stupid thought that I was protecting her? How could I be mad when she did what she thought was best for him?

“What are you thinking about?” Allie’s soft voice cut through the darkness. Her chest had been rising and falling with easy breaths for some time now, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. She was as awake as I was, possibly wondering, like I was, what we would do next.

Where do we go from here?

“How?”

“How what?” she asked quizzically.

“How was he born?” I asked, then realized that the question didn’t make too much sense. “I mean…was it…were you okay?”

I’d felt the surgical scar on her stomach and surmised what it was from. It couldn’t have been pretty, but I wanted to hear it from her directly.

Allie was silent for a few minutes after the awkward question, and I got the sense she was laughing at me a little.

The humor was still there in her voice when she responded.

“It was fine,” she said. “It was actually a pretty easy birth, all things considering. He came right on my due date, and my water broke while I was having breakfast with my family. Everyone knew what to do, and they got me to the hospital with an overnight bag. My doctor already let me know that due to my hips and Caleb’s size, I would likely need a cesarean, so I knew that going in. I was awake throughout the entire procedure, and I barely felt it at all. Even after. It was only a few hours, and he popped right out of there.”

My throat became thick with emotions as I tried to imagine it—that magical moment when she first held our son in her arms.

“Dad always said that Caleb must have wanted to get out of there real bad because he came out in no time at all,” she continued, her voice sounding wistful. “And that was what he was like as a toddler too. We almost named him Speedy because the minute his little hands and legs touched the floor, off he went, toddling about into one trouble or the next. He was a handful then.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “But I wouldn’t change it for a thing. He was such a happy little baby, always smiling, always laughing. We took very good care of him.”

“We?” I asked, and there was a bit of awkwardness because I knew what was coming.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Ken and I. Ken knew Caleb wasn’t his, obviously, but it didn’t change how he felt about the little boy. It was one of the reasons why we married, so Caleb could have his last name, and he wouldn’t be an outcast in town.”

Caleb definitely would have been an outcast if anyone knew he was my son, I thought bitterly.

That would have been traumatic for the little boy, especially since I wasn’t here to protect him. And the irony is that, even now, letting the town continue to believe that he was Ken’s son was most likely what would be best for him.

“They got along?” I asked instead, trying to keep the jealousy from my voice.

“Oh yeah,” Allie responded. “The two got on like two peas in a pod. They were…like father and son. Ken was awkward like me because he didn’t know what to expect from fatherhood. We were both pretty young, you see. But he adjusted pretty well to it. The two were pretty close until we divorced, and Ken had to take a job in another city. Caleb became pretty sad after that.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Yeah. I think that might be the first time I noticed he wasn’t talking much. The entire week, he only gave me one-word answers when I asked anything. I think he was mad at me for driving his only dad away.” I heard her swallow, noting the pain in her voice. “And then, after a few weeks, he was right back to normal. And then, nearly a year later, he started it up again. Whenever he got upset at something, he simply wouldn’t talk to anyone and would pretend like we weren’t there. And then it got worse and worse, until now. Now he doesn’t speak at all.”

“Hmm.” That was what worried me. Usually, when kids go through such a drastic personality change and suddenly become quiet like that, it isn’t for a good reason. I’d never been a particularly talkative kid, but after my father left, it got even worse.

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