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Drake took in a deep breath. "Thanks, Ethan. I don't think I'll be pursuing any rights at this point." He shrugged. "Maureen wants to keep the fact I'm Liam's biological father quiet until he's old enough to understand. I can't blame her. Chris has been a good father so far. I don't want to intrude."
"That's very noble of you, Drake, but if you change your mind and want to push access, you have every legal right. You were married to her when he was conceived and he is your biological son."
Drake shook his head, glancing down at the tabletop. "No, it wouldn't be fair at this point to tell Liam his father isn't his biological father. It would be too traumatic. If I thought for a minute that Chris wasn't a good father I might feel differently, but from everything I can see, he's been good for both Maureen and Liam. I can't interfere."
My father nodded. "Well, if you ever change your mind, I know some pretty good attorneys who would be able to help with that."
"Thanks for the offer," Drake replied, his voice soft.
Drake said nothing more and I got the sense he found the whole idea of forcing the paternity issue to be terrible nor was he exactly high on his parenting abilities.
We spent the rest of our meal discussing the trip to Kenya, the upcoming nomination process for the open seat in the district, and everything but Liam. Drake seemed fine, if a tiny bit more reserved than normal. We had planned to do our scene that night, and given the news earlier, I hoped Drake would be up to it. Whatever the night would bring, I'd let Drake take the lead, as usual.
Drake finished up quickly. "I have to run," he said, putting on his coat once more. "I have another meeting so can you get a ride with your dad?" I nodded and he leaned down and kissed my cheek softly. "I'll let you know when I'm finished. We can discuss our plans for tonight."
He caught my eye, and I knew what he was referring to – the scene. Was he going to go through with it? A little thrill went through me at the prospect.
"You two have plans tonight? Going somewhere?" my father said, his face bright.
"We have something special planned," Drake said, smiling.
"Understandable," my father said, nodding his head in agreement. "You two take it easy. Will you be staying at Drake's place?" he said to me.
I glanced up at Drake. He nodded and wrapped his scarf around his neck.
"Maybe 8th Avenue tonight," Drake said. "There are a few boxes I want to go through."
"Of course." I smiled up at him and he bent down and kissed me once more, this time on the mouth.
I watched him leave the restaurant, threading through the tables and lines of eager patrons, hoping for some of the world-famous pastrami. I felt excited about tonight, having imagined it now for months. I turned back to my father and Elaine.
"Probably wants go through Liam's things. He's very sentimental."
"He's a keeper," Elaine said to me, raising her eyebrows.
I smiled back. "That he is."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I went home with my parents and sat at the table in the formal dining room and worked on my sketch. When my father came in and wanted to look over my shoulder, I hid the drawing. I didn’t want my father to see it.
"Aww, can't your old man see it?"
"No, Daddy," I said, closing the sketch book. "When it's done. You know how artists are…"
"Yes, your mother was the same. Never wanted me to see what she was working on until it was done." He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval and kissed the top of my head.
Much later that afternoon, Drake texted me that he wanted us to meet at 8th Avenue, maybe have a very light supper and talk about our trip.
I know you were probably hoping we'd do our scene tonight, but frankly, I'm not really up to it. I thought a quiet evening at 8th Avenue would be in order. I want to go through my father's things. There's something I want to get for Liam, just in case… Maureen might not agree to it, but I'll try anyway. I think Liam should at least have something from his namesake.
I texted him back, agreeing and that was that. Finally, I said my goodbyes to my father and Elaine and took the limo to the apartment on 8th Avenue because of the weather. When I arrived, Drake was waiting for me, dressed in a white linen shirt, which was untucked over faded jeans, his feet bare despite the cold. He looked beautiful, his shiny black hair a bit wild, scruff on his jaw, his eyes bluer than blue because of the white shirt.
"There you are," he said and took my coat after I closed the door. I shucked off my boots and went inside the living room. Something soft was playing on the music system – something folksy, which I didn't recognize. It had to be one of Liam's songs from the sixties. I stood next to the music system and checked the playlist on Drake's new iPhone, which was hooked into the system.
California Dreaming by the Mamas and Papas.
"This is an oldie," I said. "One of your dad's?"
