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I wonder what Emerson loved so much about New Orleans to keep her there.
As I approach a park, a flash of purple hair pulls my attention just like it did in that octagon last night.
The woman turns her head slightly in my direction, and I know it’s Emerson before her side profile comes into view. The heaviness I feel in my chest is suffocating with each step closer.
I see the smile on her face. It’s accompanied by the loving look she used to have in her eyes when she looked at me, but right now, it’s directed at a Raven-haired toddler.
Looking around as I approach, I wonder who she’s with and who the kid belongs to.
Emerson spots me as I enter the gate to the park, releasing an audible gasp. The little guy turns his head, following her reaction.
The eyes that meet my own have my steps stuttering.
No.
How?
She has me so fucked up…my mind must be playing with me.
But my feet take me to him before I can even register what is happening. I think I hear Emerson call my name, but I ignore her, dropping to my knees in front of the boy.
The little boy whose face looks just like Emerson's, other than his eyes.
His curious stare is like looking into a mirror. I touch my hand to the side of his face, needing to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
He glances up to Emerson, not running from me but confused as to who I am. “Mama?” he babbles, looking to Emerson for reassurance.
Mama.
Emerson is someone’s mama.
Someone who has my eyes.
I stand abruptly, reality hitting me like a crashing wave. He has to be over a year old and pregnancy is nine months long. That means…
I stumble back, feeling like my legs are going to give out from under me any second.
“How could you? How could you keep this from me? Sonny, tell me I’m missing something. Tell me,” I plead with her, forcing my words through heavy breaths.
“Nox I… I need to explain. This is why I wanted to talk.” There’s a distressed look on her face as she rushes to say, “We need to do a DNA test.”
A DNA test.I let that statement settle into my bones, and if I thought the day she left me ripped me to shreds, this is so much worse. How could the girl I loved, the girl who took daily Polaroid pictures of me to hold her memories, who knew all my darkest demons, who I would have done absolutely anything for, move on so quickly?
I shake my head in disbelief.
“How long after?” I ask numbly, almost incapable of uttering the question. It must’ve been quick if she’s unsure of paternity.
Her attention snaps back to the little boy before answering me. “It’s okay, buddy. Come here.” She takes a few steps toward him, scooping him up, and the sight of him cuddling into her causes my chest to ache.
“This is why I wanted to talk to you in private,” she says, flicking her eyes down to him and back to me.
“What do you need for the DNA test, and how long until we get the results?” My voice reveals the fact that my self-control is hanging on by a thread, but I refuse to ever impact a child with anger the way I was.
“Three to five business days after we turn in the sample kits.” Emerson can barely look at me. At least I know she sees how fucked up this is.
“I’ll put you two up in a hotel in Richmond Hills until then,” I say, with no questions asked. She won’t run away from me this time.
“No, that’s not necessary. I can figure something out.” Her voice is stern and protective, like the mama bear she has become.
