Shrugging, I shake my head. “I don’t know. But I think it’s something to do with this.” Pulling up my sleeve, I brandish my ink at them. “The date. I think this tattoo may have something to do with it.” Rubbing at my face with both hands, I grunt. “I don’t remember.” My whisper is quiet, but since it’s the only sound in the kitchen, they hear me.
A squeak of a chair against the tiles suggests either Dad sat down or Mom got up. When a warm hand meets my spine and rubs soothing circles, I know it’s probably the latter.
“We’ve got you, Raphael. It’s all going to be okay. Whatever happened, or happens, you have our full support.” She leans close. “I have another grandbaby?”
I nod. “He looks just like me,mayrik,I can’t see how he’s not mine. And his mom,” I heave out a sigh. “She hates me. She’s so angry at me like…like I got her pregnant and left her to fend for herself.” I know it’s probably a stretch. There’s probably no way he’s mine, but something about the moment I saw that child and his mom that tickled something in the depths of my chest. It hasn’t left me alone since.
Dad hands me a tissue for the tears I didn’t realize were coursing down my face.
“What do I say to her? Hi, I think that might be my kid. Know I haven’t been around for a while but can I take him to a hockey game?” My shoulders shake.
“No, Raf.” Dad reaches out and takes my hand. “You tell her you suffered memory loss from an incident on the ice. There are news articles, pictures of you in hospital, hell, there are medical records, witnesses. She’ll know you’re not making it up.”
“What’s more.” Mom puts the container of food into the microwave and pushes buttons. “You know this. What’s this really about? You’re fearless.” She wipes her hands on her apron before coming over to me again, gripping my shoulders. “Ah.” She stops. “You’re afraid of this. A tiny child.”
“They are fearsome little creatures to be fair.” Dad tips his beer to mine before tossing back a drink. “But you’ve got this, Raffi.”
“And whatever you don’t have, we’ve got you.”
There are too many words building at the back of my throat but none come out, only tears. Mom pulls me against her, letting me cry on her shoulder. I can’t remember the last time I broke down to my parents, or needed The Mom Hug deployed, but right now, in this moment, she’s all that’s holding me together.
“I don’t have time to have a child.” The words come out jerky, fragmented between sniffling sobs.
Dad chuckles. “No one does, Raf. Youmakethe time. They’re eating, crying, shitting machines that cost a fucking fortune. But they’re also the very best parts of you and are worth every second, every penny, every sleepless night.” Hecuffs my arm. “And if we’ve done our job right, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Is it hard? Yes, absolutely. But it’s also the most rewarding and educational thing you’ll ever do in your life.”
Mom’s dabbing at her eyes with her apron. “He’s not wrong, sweetheart. You and your brother were the best gift God could have ever given both of us. Do you want us to come with you?”
Hard pass. I don’t want to blindside the poor girl with a ready-made family of in-laws.
With a shake of my head, I offer a small smile. “No thanks. I’ve got to approach her myself. We’ll see where it goes though.” I pat her arm. “One step at a time.”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement. I know what she’s thinking. Seeing her grandkids only a couple of times a year drives her up the wall. Raz only brings them down once, but she and Dad make the trek into the Canadian tundra a couple times annually to see everyone.
Having a grandkid on her doorstep would bring her so much joy. But I can’t fuck this up again. I need to figure out what to say, how to say it, and where to approach Tori. I need to find a way to get her to let me meet my son.
My son.
The more I think about it, the more I know he’s mine. It settles into my chest with an ease, a warmth. There’s something about this woman. And I’m determined to find out what it is.
CHAPTER 15
Victoria
“Ican’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“What the fuck do you know?” I’ve only been to see Phil for a couple sessions, and already we’ve exited the honeymoon phase. Truthfully, I’m not sure we had a honeymoon phase.
This man is Satan and makes every part of my body hurt, every time I climb the stupid stairs.
“If you’d’ve stopped running your mouth for thirty seconds you could have been done by now. Instead, you’re telling me you can’t, when we both know you can. So woman up, channel the womb fury, and lift the damn kettlebells.” Satan gives back as good as he gets. It’s one of the things I like about him.
He’s fluent in sarcasm and banter and all out of fucks. Plus, when he says things like “womb fury,” my pelvic floor muscles threaten to up and quit on me. He doesn’t like Abba or Megan Trainor though, so I’m not sure I can ever fully trust him, but he’s funny as fuck, and from what I can tell, he knows his shit about this gym thing.
“If I lift it, can I swing it at your head?”
He grins at me, but takes a step back. “If you can catch me.”
