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A grin appears on my lips. That little boy has brought so much joy into my life, he’s worth everything I’ve gone through to raise him.
Nick’s car exits the building and stops next to me. He lowers his window concerned. “Is there something wrong, sir?”
Where do I start?
With my dating troubles? The work issues? My lost love? Or my son who is starting to understand his mother’s rejection and craves a normal family?
I shake my head and wave at Nick, forcing a smile before heading inside.
As expected, Daniel is sitting on the sofa with an array of toys on both sides and at his feet. In front of him, on the dark wood coffee table, there are several works of art, all created during the time I have been gone. Mary, his babysitter, is in the kitchen cooking.
Daniel looks exactly like me. Dark hair with unruly curls that he messes with all the time, and light brown eyes, with tiny traces of green. Or hazel as my mother says.
His focus is on the cartoon he’s watching but the moment I close the door he’s sprinting toward me. “Daddy,” he yells and jumps into my arms. “Finally.”
I catch him midair giving him a tight hug, but he jumps down just as fast. “You’re late,” he accuses me. Mary tries to intervene, but I just laugh about it.
“He’s right Mary, I’ve kept you for too long tonight.”
She shakes her head, her thin, white locks dancing around her head. “Don’t say that Mr. Reeds. You know I’m here for anything you need.”
Mary has been by my side before all this; when I was still Brian Knight, Sophie Knight’s little bastard. She helped raise me, and now she’s here for my son. The lines on her face deepen as she stares right at me.
I know she’s too old for this job but there’s no one else I’d trust with my son. Which is why I gifted her an apartment here. I don’t want her to get tired.
“I know, Mary.” I give her a quick hug. “But I’m taking over now, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Dad, we’re eating pancakes for dinner,” Daniel announces as Mary gives me a knowing look and doesn’t press any further.
I accompany her to the door and set the table with our mismatched plates, just the way he likes it. The pancakes—a request from my little prince—are ready so all we need to do is choose what we’ll eat them with. Daniel makes a sweet and salty combination that looks atrocious, but he gobbles it up.
“Eat, Dad,” he commands pushing my plate further, until it hits my chest. I take a bite of mine and relish the moment.
“How did the date go, Daddy?” At six and a half years old he is bright and nosy. Nothing escapes his attention.
Not getting an answer, he narrows his eyes and nods slowly, like I usually do when we talk about his day. “That bad, huh?” It’s supposed to be a serious comment, but he finds it hilarious. His plump little face bursts into laughter.
I grab him and throw him into the air once which sets off another round of high-pitched laughter before he lands in my hands again. I bring him back to his toy throne and start going through his drawings. He stares for a bit but gives up. My answer is not as interesting as the city he has drawn.
Daniel gives me elaborate details about each place, his voice becoming louder when he points at something he’s very excited about. A few minutes later, his presentation ends with a loud yawn, signaling he’s ready for bed. I tuck him in and go back to the living room.
If I want to give him a family, I need to be purposeful with everything I do. My son deserves a proper family. And I’m clearly going about this in the wrong way.
At this point, my financial status is my biggest problem. I’ve known this for quite some time, and so far, just accepted that that’s just how things are, but after tonight’s fiasco…I can’t keep wasting time like this.
First, I need to hide any sign of wealth, be it the car, the clothes, and even this apartment. And then I need to look for the right woman. Someone beautiful, smart, kind, independent, sassy—someone like Carol. I don’t think anyone can match up to her.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to push away the image of her walking into the restaurant with another man, and the shock on her face when she saw me, and even that ironic smile when she saw my date, as if she was jealous—
Maybe she was jealous.
A smile escapes my lips.
Maybe I don’t need to find someone like her. It’s a crazy thought but still…
I pull out my phone and type her name online. Several profiles pop up, but the pictures don’t match her. It doesn’t matter. I have people who specialize in this type of work.
I need to see her again and explain everything. Even if she rejects me—and she probably will—I will at least have closure. Maybe then I’ll truly be able to move on.
