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Her finger picks up the path around the rim again.
I’m tempted to offer her more than alcohol. Aneverything will be okayat least. But I’m not sure if she wants any assurances from me. It’s certainly not a role I’m comfortable in. I dish out orders, not hugs.
Lyla and I are on shaky ground. It’s obvious in how she’s gnawed on her bottom lip for most of this conversation. In the anxious circles her finger is tracing around the rim of the glass.
I’m not impervious to the uncertainty between us either.
I’m just not used to considering other people’s feelings. To being questioned. No one else in my life expects it or would dare attempt it.
We sit in silence for a minute. I’m tempted to pour myself another drink, more alcohol intake than I usually allow during the day. All because of the foreign feeling curling in my gut as I consider how to frame my next request.
I’m nervous.
“I want Leo to know who I am,” I finally state. “To know I’m his father.”
The shake of Lyla’s head is predictable. It also pisses me off. “So you can disappear again as soon as this mess is sorted out? How is that fair to him, Nick?”
“I’m not going todisappear,” I bite out. “He’s my kid too, Lyla.”
“You don’t know his birthday, Nick. How many hours I was in labor with him for. His favorite color—his favoriteanything. All you are in his life is a liability.”
I suppress a flinch. “I didn’t know heexisteduntil two days ago, Lyla. Obviously, I’m playing catch-up.”
“So, your plan now is to…what? Send a birthday gift every year once you learn the date?”
My jaw clenches. I have to work to unlock it before answering. “Leo is old enough to decide what role he wants me to play in his life. All I’m asking is that he knows it’s an option.”
And I am—asking.
For the first time in years, there is something I want that feels out of reach.
I know barely anything about kids, and my own father was a shitty example of what parenting should entail. My mother wasn’t much better. Fatherhood has always been a distant, unappealing prospect.
I have no idea what me as a dad would look like. But I know it’s something I want. I’ve known that since Alex said there was no doubt about paternity, and it solidified when I saw Leo for the first time.
“What’s an option, Nick? You’re going to show up whenever there’s a lull in criminal activity and take him bowling? Kids aren’t a partial commitment. You’re in, or you’re out.”
“You grew up without a dad. Is that what you want for him?”
“I didn’t have any other choice,” Lyla snaps. “You disappeared.”
“Why did you tell Alex?” I fire back.
“I—what?”
“If you don’t want me to be involved in Leo’s life, why did you tell Alex about him?”
“It—I didn’t know who you were then!”
“Who I am?” My voice has turned dangerous, a tone grown men flinch from, but Lyla is oblivious.
“I didn’t know about all this!” She sets her glass down and waves an arm around. “The blood and the guns and the enemies and the politics. Part of parenting is putting your child’s interests above your own. You think fearing for his life every day is how Leo should grow up?”
I stand, her words an ugly reminder of my failure yesterday. Bianchi got men with guns within feet of my son. “That isnothow he will grow up.”
Lyla stands too, her chest heaving and her eyes blazing. “You’ve put us in the middle of a pissing match—”
Roman bursts into my office. He glances at Lyla, apologizes for interrupting, and then tells me Dmitriy is on the phone.
