Page 86 of Silver Brewer

“I want to be all those things, but I want her here with me.”

“You want the boy?”

“Is that really a question?”

“It is. Do you want the boy to be yours? He’s still a baby, right? And he needs a daddy.” He waves dismissively at me. “Oh, I know Letty can probably handle him as a single mother, but kids still need a father figure. Who will that be to him?”

I want it to be me. I don’t want to even think of Letty with another man, or another guy becoming a dad to Finn.

“Are you ready to love him?”

“I was in love with him the moment I met him, just as I was with her.” The feisty woman leaning over her car, trying to talk me down. Name your price, Mr. Harrington. I could never have predicted it would be my heart.

Then I consider Finn. His sweet smile when he looks at me. How he tips his head on FaceTime like he recognizes my voice. Letty grows frustrated when he settles for me so easily when I hold him, but I secretly love it. It’s as if he likes me back, and he knows I’ll never let anything hurt him. He’s safe with me. With us. I love my girls, but a boy… there are so many other emotions.

My father is thoughtful for a minute before he speaks. “We have no Harrington boys, Giant. All my boys had girls. My girl had boys.” We stare at one another, thinking of James but not mentioning what happened to him. “Mati’s sons are just as much Harringtons, but they don’t carry the name.”

I’m not certain where my dad is going with this.

“Dad, he’s…uhm…he’s not white. Not that it matters to me or should to you, but I feel like I should mention it.” I also feel like an ass because I’m mentioning it.

“If you want her, you accept what’s hers.”

“I understand that.”

“Blood is blood, son, and we all share it. The entire human race shares it. Family, that bond is what we make of it.” He taps his chest, understanding we Harringtons are tight, and that’s how he always wanted it to be. He stands without another word.

“Thanks, Dad,” I call after him, still confused how to act or what to say. He pauses at the doorway to my office.

“Can you name him George? If you decide to adopt him.” I sit up a little straighter. Adopt him? I’d thought it briefly before, but with my dad’s suggestion… If I marry Letty, I can adopt Finn. Even if I don’t marry her, if she doesn’t want marriage because she’s all I-am-woman-hear-me-roar, and we only live together, I could still adopt him. It would be a little extra security for him.

“He’s already named Finnikin. Finn. She named him after some character in a book.” Finnikin of the Rock, she told me. He was a strong character who went after the princess and did all he could to bring her safely home where she belonged.

Bring her home where she belongs.

“Finnikin Harrington,” my father says, and my heart races as he speaks the name. “That’s a damn fine name, too.”

32

Mothers know best.

[Letty]

“I have a proposal for you.”

My throat catches air as Giant’s voice rings through the phone. I hadn’t even said hello before he spoke. This isn’t how I envisioned being asked but—

“I’d like to take three months off and come stay with you. Like my own FMLA. I can watch Finn while you go back to work. This gets him to nine months old.” His voice sounds almost giddy with the suggestion, and giddy is never a word I’d use to describe Giant. “I want to adopt Finn with you.”

“What?” My voice comes out strangled in both shock and question. I look up at Marcus, who came to visit me when I got some distressing news. I hold up a finger and cross the living room for the hallway. The line remains silent a moment. I don’t know what to say. Giant adopting Finn was something I hadn’t considered. Well, I had considered it but only in my fantasies of family. But he isn’t even asking to marry me. He’s asking to adopt Finn. And on today, of all days. “Giant, I—”

“I love you. You love me. This can work. I’ll come up there and stay with him and begin the process. Whatever needs to be done.”

Giant doesn’t legitimately live here, so I don’t see how the courts would accept him.

“Then what?” I wonder, my voice dropping as my head hits the wall behind me. I can’t have this conversation. Not today. You should tell him, my mind whispers.

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice hesitant, the distance between us spanning more than a hundred miles. I’ve felt us drifting apart over the past few months. We talk every day, and I relish the time, but something has shifted between us.