Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
She gave a nod. “I hope everything is okay.”
“Yeah, me too.” My mom was young when she had her cancer scare, and my dad had told me enough horror stories to know that cancer had no prejudice when it came to its victims. Young people assumed they were invincible, but in reality, it lurked in the shadows right behind you.
She rubbed my arm before she stepped back.
“No matter what happens…it doesn’t change us.” Even if Catherine was sick, my commitment was to Sicily. A near-death experience wouldn’t flip my feelings. I would be there for Catherine, I would do whatever I could to help her, but my heart was unavailable.
“I know, Dex.”
I gave her a kiss before I walked away.
I got to my apartment, showered, had something to eat, and then waited.
Waited an eternity.
At six o’clock on the dot, she knocked.
“It’s open.” I stayed on the couch, my nerves all over the place, worse than when a patient coded on me.
She let herself in and joined me on the couch. Her hands moved to her lap, and she was quiet for a long time, composing her thoughts, her hair pushed over one shoulder, so the contours of her face and her slender neck were on full display.
“Catherine.”
She met my look, hesitance in her eyes.
“Talk to me.” I loved Sicily with all my heart, intended to spend my life with her by my side, but once you loved someone the way I’d loved Catherine, it never really went away. You couldn’t be married to someone, and then one day, stop caring whether they lived or died. If something happened to her, I would be devastated. I braced myself for the same news that my father gave me years ago, that my mother was battling for her life, and there was nothing substantial that could be done about it.
“I’m not sick, Dex. I’m sorry if I let you think that.”
I wasn’t even mad, just relieved. So fucking relieved. I inhaled a real breath and let the carbon dioxide leave my body. It’d been building up since lunchtime because I hadn’t really breathed for hours. “Good. That’s good.” I dragged my hand down my face, feeling the weight off my shoulders.
“But I do have something else to tell you…and it’s delicate.”
I regained my focus and looked at her.
“I’m sorry for keeping it from you. I don’t have a good excuse for it. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me…”
Did she cheat on me? “Just tell me. The suspense is killing me.”
Her eyes started to well up with tears, her breathing uneven, and she cupped her hand over her mouth for a moment before she let it out. “We have a son.”
I paced in the living room, dragging my hand down my face, over the coarse hair of my thin beard. It was impossible to sit still. My blood needed to circulate so the adrenaline wouldn’t build up in a single place. “I…I don’t understand.” I stopped in place and stared at her seated position on the couch.
“When we were trying…I got pregnant. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant. With everything that happened with my father, I didn’t notice that I’d skipped my period, or the next period, and then after three months, I was getting all the typical symptoms of pregnancy, and I didn’t know why I felt so sick. We were divorced at that point, I was living alone…and then I went to the doctor.”
I heard every word she said, but I couldn’t actually believe it. “This is the part where you explain why you didn’t tell me.”
Her eyes sparkled like lights on a tree because they were wet, reflecting any source of illumination around her. “I guess I was in denial about the whole thing. I just…wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with the truth. So, I ignored it. I was able to hide it for a long time. My mom didn’t even know. I even started to see this guy, and when he realized I was pregnant, he didn’t care. And then I gave birth, and…” She closed her eyes, as if ashamed.
“Catherine, I…” There were literally no words. None.
She wiped her tears away. “He’s about eight months old now…”
My arms crossed over my chest as my heart pounded against my rib cage. I had an eight-month-old son. I had a fucking son. I’d been living my life like a train wreck during that time period when I had a boy who didn’t have a father. “Catherine…this is insanity.”
“I know. I’m sorry…”
“How do I know he’s even mine?” Maybe the guy who knocked her up left her, and now she needed a partner to be a father to her kid.
“You can get a paternity test if you want. But he’s yours. You could just look at him and see it.”