Page 45 of Reeves

He glanced over his shoulder once as he realized he was upright, his face as clear as day for me. Charli's back was to me, but I got to see his face.

My stomach tightens as the pieces slide into place.

My son.

I look back across the table at Charli.

The light from the bar falls across her face, catching the familiar angles of her cheekbones and the stubborn lift of her chin. She looks the same way she always did when she had already made a decision and did not intend to apologize for it.

Steady. Certain.

Even now.

“So does that mean he's six?” I ask.

My voice comes out quieter than I expected, controlled enough that most people would not hear anything unusual in it.

"He's five." Charli shakes her head slightly. "Six years minus nine months. His birthday is in November."

November.

My limbs go numb, like they aren't even attached to me. I shift my legs under the table just to confirm they're still there.

He's five years old. Five years of a life I didn't know was happening.

I swallow and reach for the water, the dryness in my mouth catching up with me.

"What's his name?"

"Benjamin." Her eyes stay on mine, unwavering. "We call him Benjy."

We. Thatwedoesn't include me.

The name needles into my bones, becoming more real by the second. There's a boy, who is five years old, named Benjy, who has my blood coursing through his veins.

I lean back slightly in my chair, trying to organize the information the way I would process any new intel on a mission. Facts first. Emotions later. If at all.

But this isn't a mission. This is my life. A life that suddenly has a five-year-old boy in it that I never knew existed.

"Does he look like me?"

The question feels hollow, almost inadequate, but it's all I can think about in this moment. I want to know him, even if I'm not sure I'm capable of being a father.

My mind snags on the name, running it through its circuit again.

He's named after her father.

It clicks into place, making perfect sense while simultaneously driving home the reality of my complete absence. The boy carries nothing of me. Not my name, not a single day of his five years. Nothing except maybe some genes.

Charli takes a sip of her cocktail. "Yes. He has your eyes. They are your exact shade of green. And when he concentrates, he tilts his head exactly like you do."

Emotion wells up inside of me, and I have to blink away the threat of tears. I'm not sad or happy, but the gravity of it all threatens to consume me.

I unconsciously straighten in my chair and clear my throat.

"Does he know about me?"

I watch her neck bob as she swallows. "He knows his father lives somewhere else and that we weren't together when he was born. I never lied to him, but he doesn't have the understanding to ask questions, really."