Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
I sigh silently. I came here tonight to put my cards on the table, find out how we move forward, and talk about how I get to know my son. I guess that’s what must be happening now. Not that this hasn’t been fun, I think as I pull out the chair closest, which puts me opposite Kennedy.
She will be mine. Maybe just not tonight. Definitely not only for tonight.
“You wanted to talk.” She pulls her T-shirt straight, moves in her seat, then loops her fingers around the stem of the glass, all without looking at me. “So talk.”
“You don’t make me pasta. You don’t offer me wine.” Resting my elbow on the tabletop, I prop my chin to my fist. “It’s not the kind of reunion I had in mind.” Obviously, I can’t help myself. Her serious little self makes me want to ruffle her feathers.
“This isn’t a reunion. This is—”
“Kismet?” I suggest. “Though I have to say, it’s taken its fucking time. You have to ask yourself where it’s been hiding all these years.” Or maybe I should be asking where you’ve been. Where you went. Why you don’t even have Facebook.
“What’s past is past,” she says as though convinced. But I don’t really think she is. Convinced, that is. But if I’m wrong, I’ll just have to change her mind because the more time I spend with her, the more this seems right. Meant to be. I guess I’ve always felt like this about her. This strange sense of affinity. And I know she feels it too, or why else would dreary fucking Drew have been here? He’s a strategy for her. Collateral damage for me. Sorry, buddy. “So what are your plans?” she asks. “Impending fatherhood must be a pretty scary prospect to you.”
“Are you trying to frighten me off?”
“It has the potential to derail your life. I’m just curious what your thoughts are. Your plans.”
“I have lots and lots of thoughts but very few plans.” I shrug and lean back in my chair as she sends me an unimpressed look. Cute, Kennedy. Real cute. I’m the youngest of four brothers, so I’m pretty much inured to that attitude. Conscious this might make me sound feckless, I add, “I have a few commitments.”
“Yes, commitments,” she retorts, all business. “I expect yours are mainly in Australia?”
Is that wishful thinking? Well, babe, think again. “No. They’re mostly local for the foreseeable.” Local as in on this side of the country. I told myself I wasn’t coming to Oregon to look for Kennedy this time. That I’d do as Byron asked. Visit some local wine producers. Do a bit of sightseeing, maybe hike a little through Mookatill State Forest, then drive to California via the great ocean road to see how it stands up against the road of the same name from home. Then I’m supposed to see my agent in LA to discuss the upcoming filming schedule. But those were my plans before.
Before finding her. Before him.
“Oh.” Something like consternation flickers across her brow.
“Did you not see the booking I made?” I blocked out the calendar as far as I could, including the dates I’m supposed to be in LA. But when I think about being on location, I suddenly feel like I’ve ingested an anvil.
I’ll be so far away and I don’t want to be.
“I thought it was a tech error.”
“Thought or hoped?” I know which my money is on.
“That’s not fair, Roman. I know this is probably a lot for you to get your head around, but it is for me, too. Wilder has been my world since he was born, and—”
Reaching out, I take her hand. “I get it. I do. But I’m not going to interfere or change your plans, demand shared custody, or a massive slice of his existence. I just want to be part of it. I want to be here. For both of you.”
“You’ve practically booked the whole summer season.” She doesn’t exactly sound happy about it. “You’re really going to stay here that long?”
“There’s no need to look so ecstatically happy about it,” I say with a chuckle. “I want to get to know my kid. I’m gonna be around a lot more than three months, you know.”
“How does that look to you?” she says with a worried look. “How will we navigate this?”
The truthful answer is you don’t want to know. Not yet. So I give her the easy answer. “It looks like a summer getting to know my son. And afterward, I expect plans will just fall into place.” Because they have to. Because she can’t resist me. I’ll make sure of it. “Don’t look so worried.”
“It’s just a lot to imagine.” Her head comes up with another thought. “There were dates in the booking calendar already taken. Where will you go then?”