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“What was the point?”
“To tell me about my biological father. She knew I deserved to know everything, no matter how bad it made her look. She risked our relationship so I could know the truth.”
“I’m sorry, Slade.” I’m taking a seat in the judgment-free zone, and I’m there to stay.
He gets up and starts pacing the room. “That’s just it. There’s nothing to be sorry about. The man who raised me is still my father in every way possible. He loved me as if I was his child. It takes a big man to do that. I was fortunate to have him in my life. He was the best, and I miss him every day.”
I’m stunned. He’s looking at this issue from a different point of view than I thought he would. “So, you’re not upset?”
He stops pacing. He looks at me as though he’s looking right through me. His mind is far away from here.
“Upset? No. Not anymore. I was. I was so mad, I wanted to punch someone. Then the truth hit me. I have a biological father in Italy. In Italy! Can you imagine that? I might have half-brothers and half-sisters I’ve never even met. I can’t wrap my head around it. I still have a father. I have family in Italy. How incredible is that?”
My head is reeling. This isn’t how I’d expected him to react. Not at all. I thought he’d be mad, resentful—and remain that way—that it would change him forever. I thought he would hate the truth of his parentage. Maybe even hate the institution of marriage.
He's an amazing man. More amazing than I imagined.
Instead of being upset, he’s excited about it. Of course, he is. He was raised by Lauren. Plus, he spends a lot of time with Joss. They’re both full of gratitude for life.
The way these people think is new to me. I need time to process. Don’t get me wrong, I love the way they think. But I’m still learning. I’m not used to purposefully looking for the good in everything or for things to be grateful for. It’s an entirely different way of living, of viewing life.
Slade sits at the table again. He pulls the stack of letters from his pocket. “I went back to Mom’s house. I apologized for storming out like I did. She gave me the letters, and I promised to read them with an open mind. I asked her what she would’ve done if she’d known about the letters. I wondered if she’d glossed over her first answer for my sake. She told me she really didn’t know. She was in love—in different ways—with two men. The decision would’ve been impossible. She said she’s glad she didn’t have to choose. She feels everything worked out for the best.”
“A very honest answer.”
“Yeah, I appreciate her being so candid.” He runs his fingers through my hair, softly twisting the tendrils.
“Do you wish she would’ve told you when you were a child?” I ask.
“I did at first. Now I’m not so sure. It would’ve changed me and the way I looked at the man who was my father, the man who raised me. It’s hard to say.”
“Another honest answer.”
Slade points to the return address. “Look, his name and address are right here. I bet I could find him, track him down. Get in contact with him. Tell him who I am. Wouldn’t that be something?”
When a man finds out he has a son he didn’t know about, it sure would be something. It might not be a good something. I don’t think Slade has considered that option.
I study the return address. Matteo De Luca. He’s from Venice. This is Slade’s ancestry. I see why he’s pumped up. It’s hard not to catch his enthusiasm.
“Sorry, I know I’m all over the place right now. What do you think, Marin?”
“I think it would be amazing if you could get in contact with him.”
He studies me with glazed eyes. “I do too. I want him to know I exist.”
I cover his hand with mine. “It could be tricky. I’m sure he has a family of his own.”
He nods. “I realize the news he has a son he never knew about might not be celebrated. I’m willing to risk it. I have nothing to lose.”
His long walk has cleared his mind. He’s thinking logically about the situation.
“You know what, Slade Sheridan De Luca? You’re amazing. You’re handling this so well. You impress me more each day I have the pleasure of knowing you.”
“Ah, well, it was a rough afternoon, believe me.” He looks down at his hands. “Tough news to process for sure. I needed time to get my head on straight. In the end, I knew I couldn’t lose my relationship with Mom over this. Instead, I decided to find my biological father. Curiosity has got me all riled up.”
“I can tell.”
He scoots his chair until it’s beside mine, our thighs touching. “Want to read the letters with me?”
