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“Davi’s place is with you,” I say, looking into her eyes. I’m being serious. He will stay with her, and soon they both will be with me. “But I’m calling my lawyer tomorrow. I want my name on his birth certificate.”
“And limited visitation rights.”
“And visitation rights,” I ignore her use of limited. I want more than that, but this isn’t the moment to have that conversation. Yet. “I’m not perfect, Ella. Far from it. But I’m asking you for the chance to make this right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll provide you both with whatever you want.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking about money, David. We are not rich, but we manage. I’m talking about what do you mean by you are far from perfect? From here, you seem like the kind of man with a perfect life.”
Where to start? How to tell her the truth without scaring her to death and making her run to the hills with my son?
“I’m an alcoholic. I’m not proud of my past, but I am off that path, and I’ve walked a different one since I decided to start my recovery.” At some point, I must also tell her about the women in my past, just not yet.
Melanie looks at me with wide-open eyes, her gaze is reserved and scared.
“You are, or you were?”
“An alcoholic will always be an alcoholic. It’s a demon we must fight for life. I’ve been sober for more than three years,” I clarify. “I checked myself in a week after that night.” The best night of my life. “I stayed there for a few months. I am still in touch with my sponsor.”
Her chest lowers visibility. Relaxing.
“I wasn’t in a good place when I met you, Melanie,” I tell her. “You said I’d never offer you a relationship, but I’d never leave you alone either. You’re the mother of my son. That means a lot to me. I just met him, but he is a happy, healthy boy. I’ll be forever grateful for what you’ve done with him.”
“I’m his mother, David. What else should I do?”
I’d like to kiss that pouty mouth for her to know the real meaning of my words. This whole situation pulls at my most basic instincts, like the motherfucking caveman I really am. All I want is to throw her over my shoulder and have my way with the sweetness of her body, to communicate with her very soul. I want to take her to my home and make her stay. I want our boy with us, all the time. Both of them happy and safe with me.
Years ago, I thought I had nothing to give. Right now, I’m clinging to the pieces of me. Holding them together with determination.
Hope in something I’ve never believed.
Life is crazy, right? It tests you in the most twisted ways at the weirdest times.
This is more than a test. This is a reason to fight for.
“You’re doing fucking fantastic,” I praise her.
“And you will need to watch that mouth in front of Davi,” she scolds and points at me with her finger. Her black nails are visible, and the memories crash on me again.
“I’ll try.”
“Try hard because that boy is like a parrot. He repeats everything he hears.”
I want to tell him so many things. Starting withI love you. It doesn’t matter that I just met him. I love him already.
“I’ll be here for six weeks.”
“What will happen after that, David?”
I look around her tiny, cute place. It’s nothing fancy, but there is something floating in the air that makes it unique. Love. There are pictures held by magnets on the freezer, a few plastic dinosaurs on the coffee table that’s in front of a couch overstuffed with an arsenal of pillows, and a lotus flower picture on the wall.
“We have time to figure that out.”
“You will forget about us—about Davi and go ahead with your life.”
She’s so wrong, and I have proof of it.
