Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Rush stood up then and pointed a finger at me. “If he is my brother—and I fully believe he is—then Brielle will be welcome in my home. She’ll be invited to holidays. She’ll become my wife’s friend because Blaire will want that. She won’t be excluded. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“She could have contacted me,” I interrupted him.
Why didn’t he care that my child had been kept from me?
“How the fuck was she supposed to do that? She was a kid! A homeless kid! Jesus, Dad, look at it from her side. How was she supposed to do that? And fuck it! You should have asked for her ID. Made sure she was legal.”
“What about when she saw me again? She didn’t tell me then. What’s your excuse for her? Hmm?” I asked him.
“It had been nine years,” he said. “She’d been his only parent for nine years. She was an adult, and she was protecting her son. You’re Dean Finlay. She was scared. Scared you’d change their world.”
“She let me into his life. She let me fuck her. She let me care,” I replied, suddenly very tired.
“And you are holding that against her? You should be counting yourself lucky that she trusted you enough to let you near him. She didn’t hide him from you. She let you into his life. But first, she was his mother. She had to make sure it was safe. You fucking her was her own bad judgment,” Rush said, then shook his head. “Sometimes, I forget how differently you view the world. The majority of your life, you’ve lived in fame. Well, Dean, welcome to the real world, where people have to think about their choices. They have to weigh the outcomes. They can’t just make up their minds and know that, if it’s a shit show, someone will clean it up for them. We aren’t all rock stars.”
My phone rang in that moment, silencing us both. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I knew the number. I’d been waiting on this call.
“Hello?” I said as Rush watched me closely.
“The boy is yours, Dean,” Dr. Moses said on the other line. “Wasn’t a question in my mind after getting a look at him, but this is proof. He’s a Finlay. He’s your Finlay.”
“Thanks,” I said and ended the call.
When my eyes met Rush’s, he nodded, not needing to hear it from me.
“You’ve got a week. One week. Decide what you’re going to do. Because in one week, I will meet my brother with or without you.”
I stood there, holding my empty whiskey glass, as my oldest son walked to my private entrance before leaving me alone.
Cam was mine.
The kid was mine.
And his mom … I didn’t know how to move on from this.
All I knew was, I missed them. Both of them. Cam and Brielle.
thirty-five
brielle
Today, Cam and I went to the beach. We carried a picnic. We took the time to process it all. I let him ask questions, and I answered them all truthfully. He was himself at times, laughing and playing in the waves. Then, other times, he was quiet, and I knew he was thinking.
Being told that the rock star you idolized was your father was a lot for anyone to process. Especially a nine-year-old.
While we ate our turkey sandwiches, he asked me if Dean was mad at me. I had sworn to myself that I’d tell him the truth. Even if it was difficult.
I nodded. “He is. But because he feels robbed. Of knowing you.”
Cam frowned. “You tried to tell him about me. He’s a rock star. How did he expect you to tell him?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s more about not telling him sooner. Since he moved into our building.”
Cam didn’t say anything for a long time. When he finally did, he slid closer to me. “I’m not mad at you, Mama.”
Those simple words were enough. I could survive it all, knowing he forgave me. He understood.
The drive home, we talked about his camping trip and his moving up to the junior high marching band. Dean wasn’t mentioned once, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. I wanted Cam to feel free to talk to me about whatever was bothering him. He didn’t have to protect me from Dean. I was his mother. I wanted to know how he was feeling about all this.
After we got home and had dinner, I put away the leftovers and washed the dishes, and Cam went to get his bath. He hadn’t mentioned Dean again. I knew that today or tomorrow, the results from the paternity test would come back. I expected a call from Dean or maybe Blaire. Possibly even his lawyer.
When there was a knock on the door, I dried my hands on a towel, then walked to answer the door. Peeking through the peephole, I saw Dean standing there. I stepped back and took several deep breaths, then reached for the lock and unlatched it before opening the door.