Page 38 of Unravel Me

“Dada.” He pats my hand, then Rosie’s thigh. “Mama.”

“Oh my gosh.” Rosie’s face burns red. “I’m so sorry. It must be a new phase.”

Connor points down the hall. “Walk?”

“Are you and Mama going for a walk? Can I come too?”

He grins, so toothy and innocent, and he’s got the same splattering of tiny freckles across his teensy nose as his mom. “Walk.”

“We’re walking over to the park,” Rosie says, setting her backpack in the wagon. “You don’t have to come with us.”

“I’d love to, thank you.”

Her jaw drops. “I…well…but do you…” She gives up on words, choosing instead to twine her pastel waves around her finger.

“Unless you don’t want me to. Is that what you were wanting to talk to me about? That you don’t want to see me anymore?”

She frowns. “Of course I want to see you.”

“Great.” I plop her hat on her head. “The hat trick worked. Let’s go.” I take her hand, grab the handle of the wagon, and start pulling both green-eyed cuties toward the elevator. “So what did you want to talk to me about then?”

Rosie’s eyes drop to Connor. When they come back to me, the look she gives me says she’s not sure I’m all there. “That I have a son? You know, in case that wasn’t something you wanted in your life.”

“Why would that matter?”

She stares at her feet, tugs at her oversized T-shirt. “It matters to a lot of people.”

The whispered words are carved in heartache, so I squeeze her hand and promise, “It doesn’t matter to me. Now I get two for the price of one.”

Her gaze rises, moving cautiously between mine. “You really mean that?”

“I know this is new, that we haven’t known each other for long, but I feel something here. I’d like to explore it with you. Is that what you want too?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Then let’s spend some time together. We can move at whatever speed you’re comfortable with. I’m in no rush; I just want to keep getting to know you. You make me smile.”

She grants me one right here and now, bright enough to rival the July sunshine. “You make me smile too.”

“Brum-brum!” Connor shouts from behind us, pointing at a truck that whizzes down the street. “Tuck!Brum-brum!”

“That’s his engine noise. You should see him when a bus drives by. Loses his ever-loving mind.”

I park the wagon beneath the shade of a tree on the outskirts of the empty park, and we follow along as Connor tears over to the play equipment, yelling, “Pak! Pak!”

“How old is he?”

“Fifteen months. He was born in April last year.” She watches me out of the corner of her eye as Connor slips his hand into hers, climbing onto the small platform, leading to the slide. “Do you like kids?”

“I love kids. I do a bit of volunteering with some vulnerable ones.”

Her smile is soft, curious gaze raking over me. “That’s awesome, Adam.”

I shrug. “It’s nothing.” It’s not nothing. The Family Project, my fundraising events for Second Chance Home, brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars each year, helps fund their center, and brings new families together. It’s my pride and joy, my greatest accomplishment, and I like to keep it close to my heart.

“Dada!”

“Oh for God’s—Connor, this is Adam.” Rosie pats my chest. “A-dam.”

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