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“It could be dinner.”
“I like how you think, Son.”
Once I sent off the last email, I scooped him into my arms. Switch and Go was Brody’s favorite place to eat. He got his love of sandwiches and soups from me, and between the two of us, we practically kept that place in business. I spun my son around, showering his face with kisses before I reached over and pressed the button to shut my computer down.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. I’m starving.”
“I bet you are by now.”
We headed out of the store and made our way to the restaurant. It wasn’t even a mile away from the office, so we walked there hand in hand. I loved these moments with my son, when the two of us were on a journey together and he clutched my hand tighter and tighter. No matter how old he got, I would always remember my son like this: a wide-eyed, curious, and tentatively shy eight-year-old boy with bright eyes like his father, shaggy hair I could never tame, and a stature that boasted of an age two years ahead of where he was.
Wrapping my arm around him, I pulled him close, and he nuzzled into me.
“Whatcha gonna get to eat?” I asked.
“The ham and cheese big sandwich with lots of pickles and mustard.”
“That sounds absolutely gross.”
“Because you hate pickles, Mom.”
“Don’t breathe on me after lunch,” I said.
“But that’s the fun part.”
I giggled and kissed the top of his head. We walked into the sandwich shop, and the woman behind the counter recognized us instantly. She pulled out the bread we always ordered and then passed us two unsweetened blackberry teas. Brody piped up with pride in his voice as he changed his order.
“Make mine a big one. With chips,” he said.
“Oh, deviating from the norm, I see,” the woman said.
“He wants the big one, so we’ll give him the big one,” I said.
“Ana?”
I never thought such joy could drain from my body in a heartbeat, but in that moment it did. I felt my face pale as the woman behind the counter gave me an inquisitive look. No. I couldn’t have heard that voice. It must’ve been a mistake. Maybe there was another Ana in here.
“Ana.”
Hearing his voice again shot fear through my veins. Holy shit. Tyler had walked into our sandwich shop. He hated soups and sandwiches. What the hell was he doing in a place like this? I slipped my arm from around Brody and slowly turned around, shuffling myself in front of him.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Mom?” Tyler asked, his eyebrows hiking up.
There was no going back from this moment. My eyes settled on Tyler as I drew in a deep breath, trying to figure out how the hell I’d get myself out of this situation. He couldn’t find out he had a son, not like this.
But he could find out I had a son like this.
“Tyler.”
“Who’s Tyler?” Brody asked.
My son stepped out beside me, and I held my hand out to stop his movements. Tyler’s eyes danced between my face and his son’s face as I held my breath. Shock ran over his features. Confusion furrowed his brow. His face paled as well and he swallowed thickly, then slowly turned his gaze back to me.
“What kind of cheese would you like?”
I turned around and shot the woman behind the counter a look before Brody piped up.
“Pepper jack, please,” he said.
“Good choice. That’s my favorite,” Tyler said.
“Tyler, I’d like you to meet my son, Brody.”
“Your son,” he said.
“Mom, who is this?” Brody asked.
“You know the friend I’ve been going and talking with some nights?” I asked.
“Oh. This is your friend?”
“It is,” I said.
Tyler’s eyes held mine with an expression I couldn’t read. My stomach lurched. My heart dropped to my toes. This wasn’t going to end well. It was obvious whose child Brody was. If everyone else saw it, I knew Tyler saw it.
But it didn’t stop me from praying he didn’t.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your mother once in a while. I’m back in town after going away to college, and I missed her,” Tyler said.
“It’s fine. Aunt Kristi’s been watching me,” Brody said.
“I went to school with your Aunt Kristi. Do you like her?” Tyler asked.
“She’s my favorite. She brings me all the things Mom won’t let me eat.”
“She what?” I asked.
Tyler’s chuckle was polite, but his eyes were still prying. He was in digging mode. I recognized that face.
It was the same face he gave me at the bar where we first ran into one another.
“How old are you, Brody?” Tyler asked.
“I’m eight.”
Fuck. My ship was sunk.
“That’s a good age. Are you taking good care of your mother?” Tyler asked.
“I try, but she doesn’t let me. She says I have to be a kid,” Brody said.
“It’s important to be a kid. But it’s also important to look out for those you love.”
