Page 78 of Silver Fox

Itilted back in the chair, watching the stars, fighting insomnia. Water sloshed underneath the dock where I’d parked my foldable chair. The nearly empty whiskey glass in my hand provided little comfort. I sat up, reached to the dock for my bottle, and refilled my glass.

The first swig drew my senses to the burn in my throat enough to blur the ache. I had a beautiful son, and Laura had kept him from me. She’d had so many opportunities to tell me the truth, yet she’d kept him a secret. He was sweet and curious, and he’d occupied my heart the moment Tiffany told me he was mine. Actually, he’d had it before we met, because I’d wanted Laura and her son…ourson, to build a life together, even before I knew he was mine.

Our son.

I pulled my fingers through my hair and coughed out cold air. Tiffany left with the girls before the Youngs approached me about Kensi and all hell broke loose. They said Laura’s resemblance to my daughter was unmistakable, and now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t deny the likeness and confirmed their suspicions.

But how could I tell Tiffany that her daughter’s biological mother wanted Kensi back? I was a coward, and had never told Laura about her match. Every time I read the profile letter she’d posted to Kensi’s parents, my anger waned. Logic guided my mind toward forgiveness, but the rage burning through my veins also burned through all that logic. Drowning it all in a glass of whiskey was even better.

I took a long swig and swept my finger over the phone, opening the message.

To my seven-year-old daughter’s parents/guardians:

My life changed when I found out I was pregnant at seventeen. People around me had opinions, but I only had one: I loved my baby girl, and I couldn’t wait to meet her. I couldn’t wait to kiss her tiny hands, soothe her first hunger, and hold her in my arms, next to my skin, but I never had the chance.

The doctors took her away from me and told me she died.

I am now blessed with a two-year-old boy, and he has the sweetest and kindest soul. His name is Foxy, and one day, I hope he gets to meet his big sister. This match is the chance I’ve been waiting for to meet my baby girl and have the opportunity that was stolen from me to watch her grow. I hope you will find space it in your heart and life for an extra family member.

With love,

Laura Young

“What are you still doing out here?”

I startled at I my mother’s voice and set my glass underneath the chair before she saw through the darkness.

“You’re going to freeze.”

I stood up, turned around, and she waved her hand in front of her nose. “Oh, God. By the smell of it, maybe you won’t freeze.”

I retrieved the glass from underneath the chair and finished the remaining quarter in one swig.

“Is that how you solve you problems? Drown them in a glass of whiskey?”

“What do you want me to do?” I threw my hands up in the air.

“Be the man I raised you to be.” She smacked my arm. “She came back for you, fool. And you threw her away at the first challenge you faced.”

“What are you talking about—she came back?”

“She came back to tell you she was pregnant. Laura drove to your house and saw you and Tiffany through the window. Kensi was coloring and Laila was in a swing. She saw a happy family, and she didn’t want to break you apart. Don’t you see? You were meant to adopt Kensi, and Laura was meant to find you. Fate brought you together. Maybe not then, but definitely now.”

A colder wind swept through, and she pulled her sweater close.

“You’re not upset she kept your grandson from you?”

“How can I be upset? I have a grandson. I’m grateful she opened her heart to our family and gave us a chance.”

“She didn’t choose to tell me.”

“But she wanted to, James. Do you know how many times she tried? Even before your splenectomy.”

“Wait a minute. You’ve known about this? You knew and didn’t tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place, especially since Laura’s intention to tell you herself was clear. She may have made a mistake, but you didn’t even give her a chance to explain. You tore through that girl and embarrassed her. You owe Laura an apology, if not much more.”

Three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey swam through my veins, coursing through my blood and my head. The memory of her stricken face as I yelled flashed through my mind. Tears streamed down her face, and Laura couldn’t get a word out. She stood on the patio with our son, her eyes begging, while I spewed filthy words her way.

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