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“Do I have sperm?” He was apparently missing the most important point.
“Not yet.” I was flustered by his line of questioning.
“When do I get some?” He was incorrigible.
“Honey, not for a long time, but—”
“Jameson,” Drake jumped in. “Would it be okay with you if I was your dad?” Some emotion bled through. Maybe even some pleading. Whatever it was, I would be forever grateful for it.
Jameson tapped his finger against his lips, like he had a habit of doing. Drake and I waited on bated breath for him to say something.
“Are you really my dad?” he finally asked.
I felt terrible my son was questioning me, but I couldn’t blame him. This was all on me.
Drake moved in and rested his large hand on Jameson’s small cheek. “Yes, I am your dad.”
Jameson thought some more, while studying Drake. Then Jameson reached out and touched Drake’s cheek, as if trying to see if he could tell he really was his dad. “Are you going to stay with me now?”
Drake took Jameson’s tiny hand. “Your mom and I will have to talk about that.”
“Oh.” Jameson seemed disappointed.
“But I’ll be around for the next couple of weeks, and we’ll do anything you want to do.”
My eyes widened.
“As long as it’s okay with your mom,” Drake amended. He employed the WWCT rule. Very good.
“Can we watch more cartoons today?” Jameson was easy to please.
“Of course,” Drake responded. “I just need to make a few phone calls.”
I was sure his lawyer was first on the list. Martez was going to rue the day he betrayed Drake Foster.
I wrapped my arms around Jameson. “I love you so much. Will you please forgive me?”
“Can I get a dog?” What a little extortionist. I had to say I was impressed. Scared, but impressed. It was the equivalent of him saying Checkmate. Izzy was obviously teaching him her ways.
“Yes.” The queen gladly took her final bow. Anything for the love of her son.
Jameson threw his arms around me. “Yes!”
Drake wrapped us both up in his arms. All felt right in the world, even if I knew I would be cleaning up after a puppy in the very near future. And dealing with the press.
“Are you trying to give my mom sperm?” And there went the beautiful moment.
Drake cleared his throat, while I coughed and spluttered. I was obviously going to have to go into more detail about conception than I wanted to.
“Um . . . not right now,” Drake stuttered, before giving me an impish grin. “Maybe later,” he mouthed.
Much, much, much later.
Chapter Twenty
“Is Drake coming?” Jameson was eager for him to join us in the grand hall. He’d decided to call him Drake for now. Which was understandable, considering he’d just found out he had a dad. Not only that, but a famous dad—which had momentarily imploded our lives. The world wanted all the details about Drake Foster’s son. It was why Drake hadn’t joined us yet. He’d been on the phone most of the afternoon and evening, only taking time to watch a few episodes of Road Runner cartoons with Jameson and eat grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Other than that, he was busy yelling at Quinn to find Martez and remind him of the contracts and nondisclosure agreement he’d signed, then stick it to him. That was the cleaned-up version of what he said. Let’s just say my son now knows all the four-letter words. In between conversations with Quinn, Drake talked to his PR team, who was working overtime answering calls from every media outlet around the globe.
We had to unplug the old landline here, as it was ringing off the hook. My cell phone was even being inundated. Mostly by my mom, who was giving me up-to-the-minute screenshots of every social media post about Drake’s foray into fatherhood and his relationship with his former assistant. Izzy was currently talking to our tech-savvy mom, who went by sexymimi on Instagram, giving me a bit of a play-by-play break. Poor Izzy was kicking herself for making out with Martez. And she was having a hard time adjusting to the fact that Drake was going to be a permanent fixture in our lives. I’d tried to assure her it wasn’t going to change our relationship, but this was a lot for all of us to take.
Our lives were all currently feeling very fishbowl-like. Even our little jaunt to the hospital the night before was a hot topic of conversation online, according to my mom. Some worker there had definitely blabbed. I thought there were HIPAA laws to prevent that. I guess there would be more people for Drake to sue. That would probably make him happy, so there was that.
Drake didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his life was playing out across social media, other than knowing it was disconcerting to me and kind of hard to explain to a five-year-old. For Drake, it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. He used to say the media will shove lies down people’s throats coated in a spoonful of sugar to make it go down. Only those not willing to swallow it were worth his time. Unless it was a blatant lie or would hurt his career, he normally let things roll off his back. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as easy for me. Especially knowing my son was involved. Thankfully, Jameson’s name and picture had yet to be published, but it wasn’t going to take long.
