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She owed him much more.
Once he had developed a relationship with his son, once he had all this sorted in his head about what was best for his son, then he’d decide what he was going to do about custody of his child.
Because he was going to be a part of
his son’s life.
An active, see-him-every-day part.
If Brielle didn’t like that, it was too bad.
She’d had their son for five years, now was his turn.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT MORNING, Brielle felt sick.
How in the world was she going to explain to Justice that Ross was moving into their house with them? Could she just say that Uncle Vann’s friend was going to sleep over for a few nights and Justice not question why?
Worse, how was she going to explain to him that Ross was his father?
That one Justice would question, and big time.
Rightly so.
Her son was as sharp as a tack and was going to question everything. If not immediately then very quickly as his brain started adding up the facts and coming up without answers.
She leaned forward, banged her head against the refrigerator door. Justice had woken her as usual on her days off work by climbing into bed with her and snuggling up next to her with a bright “Time to wake up!”
She’d lain there, holding him, chatting with him about whatever popped into his brain, which was a plethora of topics ranging from dinosaurs to where rain came from to where Vann’s friend was. That last one she’d dodged by starting a tickle-fest because she had no idea how to tell Justice about Ross’s role in their lives.
When they’d gotten out of bed, she’d been intent on maintaining her normal routine with her son, was currently in the kitchen to make breakfast for them both, but she wasn’t getting much done. She kept getting distracted.
Because Ross would be there at some point.
To move in with them.
Or would he?
Why did her belly quicken at the thought that perhaps, instead of carrying through his threats of the night before, he’d high-tail it, just as he had five years ago?
To be fair, he hadn’t known about their son.
As nervous as she was about the ramifications of Ross knowing about their son, she also admitted that she was glad he knew. She had never meant to keep Justice a secret from him.
She’d not told him immediately but had started hinting at marriage because in her mind she’d believed that’s where they’d been heading anyway and, call her old-fashioned, but she’d wanted a proposal, a real one, not a shotgun wedding because she was “knocked up”. In the end, she’d gotten neither and the longer she’d gone without telling him, the harder the thought of contacting him and telling him had become.
He’d been right. She had robbed him of something he couldn’t get back. Five precious years of their son’s life.
Yes, she was glad he knew.
She was also terrified.
“Mommy,” Justice asked, stepping into the kitchen, fully dressed and teeth brushed, as she’d instructed him to do when she’d headed to the kitchen to start their breakfast. “Why are you head-butting the refrigerator?”
Without lifting her forehead from the refrigerator door, she turned to glance at her son, who stared at her with big, curious eyes.
“You look funny,” he informed her matter-of-factly, then turned towards the doorway. “I think Mommy is knocking some sense into the refrigerator, but I don’t know why. Sometimes mommies do silly things, but we kids love them anyway.”
