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“He just knows we’re… friends.”
We are somehow not as intimate as friends and way more intimate. We made a child together.
Even if I didn’t know until now.
“So, let’s just see how it goes at first and…”
“Yeah, okay. That’s fine. It’ll be fine,” I say, forcing a smile. The deal was I’d get to meet him. Not that he’d know I’m his father. I’m not going to fight her on this when I know she could probably knock me out with a punch to the jaw if she really wanted to.
Isabella ticks her head into the room behind her. “Follow me, then.”
I do, but I don’t feel my muscles moving. Just a fire of nerves down my body. I’m lightheaded. I think I’m sweating too. Damn, I’m going to smell.
The living room has high ceilings and a modern lamp hanging over two plush couches. On one of them sits a little boy in a tiny button-down shirt and khaki pants. He pulls at the collar of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable.
He looks up at Isabella and me and he smiles bashfully.
And that’s Leo.
That’s my son.
In person, it’s clear. The green in his eyes balances the brown and there’s something in the shape of his face that reminds me of my own.
Identifying parentage this way isn’t an exact science, but…
“Leo, honey, this is my friend, Rex,” Isabella says, going to the little boy and taking him by the hand to help him hop off the couch.
“Oh, you don’t need to get up, it’s fine,” I say, trying to avoid staring at the little boy, but it’s impossible. I’m being faced with a product of me.
She guides Leo to stand in front of her, a foot away. Man, he’s so little.
“Remember what we practiced?” Isabella asks.
Leo looks up at her and nods. He holds out his little hand toward me. “I’m Leo. Pleased to meet you.”
A surprise laugh comes out of me. Holy shit, that was cute. “Hi, Leo. I’m Rex.” I start to hold out my hand and then realize how ridiculous I look towering over him. I crouch down to eye level with the little boy and take his hand. “I’m really pleased to meet you too.”
Leo smiles almost like he’s eating something too sweet. His cheeks dimple. Mine do that too.
I never really thought about fatherhood. In music, you either mistakenly become one or wait until you’re over the hill and find someone a decade or two younger who is willing to make a life with you because of your money and eternal swagger.
Now, though, I feel full.
Too full.
Or maybe a hole has been filled inside me that I never knew existed.
I’ve gotten jaded with the rocker lifestyle because it’s lonely and grueling.
All this time, there’s been a little piece of me growing without my knowledge. Now that he’s here…
I’m overwhelmingly filled with love and satisfaction I didn’t know I was missing.
“Is that present for me?” Leo asks with a grin, his eyes clocking the bag.
“Aurelio –” Isabella hisses.
The little boy looks up at her, batting his long black lashes.
