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I return her smile. “I will. Thank you, Lizzy. For everything. I’ll see you next week.”
I find Trent where I left him in the hallway, still processing the fact that he’s a father. I remember when we were getting to know each other that night, he made a joke about no kids that he knew of. It’s almost as if he predicted what was to come. Oh, the irony.
“Shall we?” I ask him. “I can drive.”
“Thanks. I already told my driver he could go home.”
And with that, we smile at one another, our hearts meeting in the evening gloom. Because we’re going to see our son now, the miraculous being who was created from one night of passion. And in my soul, I can feel that everything’s going to be okay. Trentie will meet his father, and somehow, my man and I will work things out because it’s our need to be together that’s gotten us here. And slowly but surely, we will find our future … just the three of us.
Epilogue
Katie
The drive to my apartment is quiet and peaceful because I know everything will be okay with this man by my side. Better than okay. Amazing. Wonderful. With Trent, the possibilities are endless and a warm glow of happiness and anticipation descends on my frame.
When we arrive at my apartment, we sit in the car for a few minutes longer than is necessary.
“Are you nervous?” I ask Trent, shifting a little to look at him.
“What if he doesn’t like me?” he asks, sounding smaller than I’ve ever heard him.
“He’s a five-month-old baby. He likes everyone,” I reassure him with a smile. I think it’s sweet that he cares so much, but half of me is so scared he’ll bolt when he sees him. His living, breathing son.
Trent unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, that massive form following me to my apartment.
Jessica greets us when we walk in the door. Her eyes widen at the alpha male behind me, but she wisely doesn’t say anything. “Welcome home. How was the party?”
“Great,” I tell her. “How is the baby?”
“Trentie was an angel, as always. He went down at around eight.”
“Trentie?” Trent asks abruptly. I realize I hadn’t mentioned that I named our baby after him. He looks at me quizzically for an explanation.
I avoid his questioning glance and thank Jessica. Handing her the envelope with her pay, I send her on her way. Once she’s gone, I turn to face my man.
“It was only fitting that he be named after his father,” I say, feeling abnormally shy.
Trent smiles. “You named our baby after me.”
We step toward each other, and he gently holds me. Warmth spreads through my tired body, and I smile up at him. This feels so good, so right. Trent leans forward and his lips meet mine for the first time in a year.
Getting carried away would be easy right now. It’s tempting to rip our clothes off and pick up where we left off a year ago, but unfortunately, Trentie has other ideas. Just as our kiss heats up, the baby monitor carries our son’s wails into the living room.
We laugh into each other’s lips. “He doesn’t like that Mommy and Daddy are ignoring him,” I say with a giggle. “Are you ready to meet your son?”
Trent’s smile is contagious. I lead him by the hand into Trentie’s nursery and flip on the light. Our child stares up at us from his crib, eyes wide and questioning.
I pick the baby up and hold him out to Trent. “Meet your son,” I say softly, tears filling my eyes. I can’t believe this moment has come, and it’s just so overwhelming.
Trent takes the baby from my arms carefully. “Hi, baby boy,” he says quietly, gently rocking side to side. “I’m your Daddy.” He says this with ease, as if he’s one hundred percent comfortable with it.
Trentie coos at his father, smiling up at the strange man. It’s almost like baby Trent is familiar with his father despite this being their first meeting.
I can tell Trent wants to hold his son longer, but the baby’s eyes close as he falls back asleep, so Trent returns him to his crib. We stand with our arms around each other, watching our son sleep for a few minutes.
We silently back out of the room together, switching off the light and leaving Trentie to his slumber. He hasn’t been sleeping in his nursery alone for long, but he’s adjusted well to the change. Sometimes he just needs some extra attention.
“Holy shit,” Trent rasps when we’re out of earshot of the baby. “I can’t believe I have a son.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you—”
“We’ve already established it wasn’t your fault,” he says, shaking his head. “I suppose I should apologize for coming inside of you without using protection…” He glances down the hallway toward Trentie’s nursery. “I’m not sorry, though. I’ve only known him for a second but I already love him.”
