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My buddy looks right back at me.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like Harmon’s mom is in the picture anymore, if she ever was. And I realize that the discovery of a secret child is bone-rattling, but it’s not the end of the world, right? Lots of guys are single dads, and I think you could be a great stepmom if you put your mind to it.”
I stare at Ali.
“Are you joking?”
My friend shakes her head, laughing merrily again.
“Of course not. I mean, you’re always talking about how you want to be a young mom, and how you want to have a passel of kids underfoot. Unless things have changed of course,” she says while fixing me with a meaningful look. “With the way the world is going these days, I don’t blame anyone for choosing to be child-free.”
I stop for a moment to think. The fact is that Ali’s right: Ihavealways wanted to be a younger mom, there was just no significant other on the horizon to make it happen. But ever since Harris and I began our relationship, things began to look more … well, rosy. I can see us now, living in a house together while our children play in the kitchen. There’s a baby in the highchair, banging his spoon on the plastic tray, while my belly swells with another child inside. Not only that, but Harmon’s at the kitchen table too. He’s a young boy with a thick thatch of black hair just like his father, and he smiles at me before turning to smile at his father as well.
Suddenly, I know I can do it. Or rather, that I can accept this new development because nothing so terrible has happened. I’ve just discovered that the man I love has a son whom he adores, and Harris wants do right by his child. Sure, Harris could have told me sooner, but at the same time, he was fighting through a divorce that was dragging on forever. It must have felt like sinking into quicksand, and my heart goes out to him.
“Uh oh. I can tell from the look on your face that you’re having some deep thoughts,” Ali says in a singsong voice while reaching for the chips again. I nod.
“I am,” I say in a low tone. “I think I’m okay with it, actually. The fact that Harris has a son,” I add for clarification. “He wants to be a good father to Harmon, and I have to respect him for that. Besides, I can see myself as a stepmother. Maybe not immediately,” I add in a hasty tone. “But you’re right. I do want to be a mom sooner rather than later, and I think Harris would be a wonderful father.”
“A father to your children?” Ali asks, one eyebrow quirked. “Or just to Harmon?”
My heart begins to thump as I stare off into the distance.
“I think to my children as well,” is my reply. “This sounds so perverted, but Harris was a good father figure to me. Now our relationship has morphed, but I think he’ll be a good father to his sonandour children, if we ever have any.”
Ali stares at me.
“You know your statement is kind of messed-up, right? I mean, Harris put the moves on you while you were his stepdaughter. That’s fucked-up.”
I turn to look at my buddy with a soft smile.
“And I’m still his stepdaughter in a way,” I say in a light tone. “But you’ve got it wrong there.I’mthe one who put the moves on him, and the fact is that Istillwant to put the moves on him.” With that, I hop off her bed, suddenly feeling rejuvenated. “I have to go,” I say before grabbing my jacket and dashing out the door.
“Wait, wait,” Ali calls as I rush out of the room. “I have news too! I heard that there’s this prince who goes to a sex club in the city, and he chains young girls up and tells his servants to fuck them in the cunt and ass to train them! Doesn’t that sound sadistic?”
But I’m not listening and merely make a bee-line for the front door
“Can’t talk!” I yell. “Sorry!”
“Okay, okay but keep me updated!” Ali calls, her voice tinny as it drifts out from her bedroom. “I want to know what happens with your stepdad! And I’ll keep you up to date on the perverted prince too!”
But I don’t reply because my heart’s racing. I know what I have to do, and if all goes well, then then we’ll have a solution to our conundrum once and for all.
CHAPTER12
Harris
This is completely my fault, and I bend my head, looking down at the papers on my desk. None of this should have happened: not my relationship with Mari; not my long, drawn-out divorce; and not even my son’s conception, although I can’t say I regret that one. All I know is that my life is a fucking mess, and I only have myself to blame.
After all, I overestimated Mari. I hoped against hope that she would understand the reasons underlying my secretive behavior, and the fact that I conceived a son during a moment of weakness many years ago. But she stormed out of here, as many headstrong young women are wont to do, and who am I to blame her? I’d likely do the same at that age.
“Daddy?” a small voice asks, interrupting my reverie. “Can I have a juice pop?”
“Sure thing,” I growl, getting up from my desk. “Come on, let’s get you one from the freezer.”
Harmon slips his small hand into my big one as we walk down the hall, and my heart pounds with a mix of love, gratitude, but also regret. I’d give anything to have Mari here with us, smiling at my son as she hands him a juice pop. But that’s just a pipe dream, and my expression hardens as I open the freezer door.
“Here you go,” I say, holding a Disney-themed popsicle out to my son. “Is Goofy grape okay?”
