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I think about Noah. He’s a special kid and he’s not really prone to change. I’m going to have to ease him into this.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Tia nods. “I guess you’re right. It’s okay to take things slow.”
As she’s saying the words, my phone pings with a text.
We need to talk. I’ll be at your coffee shop tomorrow, 2 p.m.
I stare at the words that could have only come from none other than Michael. I wonder for a moment how he even got my number, but I’m sure my parents had something to do with it.
I guess it’s comforting to see he hasn’t changed much in the last few years. He’s still a rude asshole.
* * *
He arrives right on time. I look up as the bell dings, signaling a new customer, only to find him staring down at me. I had been taking care of some tax audits, but I clear them away and sit up straighter, gesturing for him to take a seat.
He does so, looking professional in a crisp dark suit sans tie. His brown hair is cropped short, and I can’t help but notice his smooth, clean-shaven face. It’s a shame; I liked his five o’clock shadow.
It’s mid-afternoon, which isn’t really rush hour for a coffee shop. The only other person in the shop is a part-timer and she’s busy in the back room, working on something. We’re the only ones in here, making it the perfect place to have our conversation.
“How’s it going?” I ask, breaking the silence first.
“Great, great. It’s been a good week. My brother got married and then this crazy weird woman came to his wedding and told me I might be a father. Safe to say it’s been pleasant,” he states sarcastically.
I smile. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way, at Matthew’s wedding. If it’s any consolation, that was the hardest conversation I’ve ever had to have in my life.”
“It’s no consolation at all,” he says flatly.
“Ugh, you’re such an asshole,” I say rolling my eyes.
His face is serious and I realize we’re about to get down to business. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a few pictures before tossing them on the table separating our seats.
“Your story checks out. Noah was born eight months after we slept together. A premature birth, I’m assuming. His birth certificate only has you listed as his mother but no father. There don’t seem to be any men in your life. You have very little social media presence and the little that you do post is impersonal. Thankfully, Tia is more social media savvy and posts about you frequently on your birthday or any time she takes a picture of you and your son. I got all these from her page. I also got one of your pictures from your former law firm’s page. Grail and Peters, right? It's a prestigious firm in LA. What’d you do to get fired? The employee-of-the-month thing didn’t work out?”
I stare at him in shock. He said so much that I’m not sure where to even begin unpacking. What really kicks me in the gut is the cold look in his jade-green eyes. His eyes are like metal, glinting, hard, unyielding. And right now, he’s looking at me like he doesn’t even know me.
I won employee of the month the second month after I started working at the firm. I managed to get a break in a case that had been ongoing for years. It was a libel suit. A newspaper company had printed some information about a murder case that was ongoing. In their article, they referred to the plaintiff as the murderer despite him not being convicted. They messed with the wrong person, and after he was found not guilty in court, he decided to sue them. I won employee of the month after the case was resolved. That was the only time I ever did.
All that seems like so long ago. Right here and now, Michael’s seated in front of me. And it’s like I don’t even know him.
“You ran a background check on me?” I ask quietly.
“I had to find out what you’ve been up to in the last six years. I had to make sure you weren’t trying to con me,” he says on a shrug.
“You had someone go through my private life, print pictures of me and my little boy, all for what?”
“To find some semblance of proof that the little boy in question could even be mine.”
“Could even be yours?” I ask, feeling my chest grow hot with anger.
“Yes, Christine. I had to check and double-check. This isn’t about buying fucking shoes from a store. We’re talking about a child.”
“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’m scared right now? I might act tough and pretend that I’m okay, but I’m terrified, Michael. I can’t help feeling that I made a mistake and should never have told you about his existence in the first place.”
He sucks in a breath and his expression softens for the first time since he came in here.
“I need a DNA test,” he informs me.
