Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“That goodbye…the day your dad died and I came over…” she whispers, wringing her hands. “I didn’t find out until I was four months along. Mom had had a minor stroke and lost her job, and you were so fucking cruel and angry when you left…”
“He’s my son? You had my fucking kid?” I’m saying the words, but they feel foreign on my tongue and to my ears.
“Life changed so fast, and I was hit by a tidal wave. I was drowning. I am suffocating trying to stay afloat. Life got dark so fast, and I just needed to keep food on the table and the lights on. The club was just supposed to be temporary—easy money to see us through until I could save enough to move into our place and get a teaching position.”
“He’s my son?”
“Yes,” she cries.
“Does he know?” I ask, dumbfounded at this turn of events. A fucking dad. I’m a dad? At her silence, I walk the distance between us and grab her upper arms, imploring her, “Does he know about me?” I repeat.
“Yes, of course.” She nods frantically.
I’m a father. I collapse over her, hugging her to me. “You had my son. I have a son.”
“We…we have a son, yes,” she breathes into my chest, clinging to me.
“I need to meet him.”
“Time, Lucca. In time.”
Pulling her away from me, I grip her chin in my hand and look deep into her wild eyes.
“I’ve missed enough fucking time, Breezy. I want to meet my son. Now.”
Now?
Oh God.
“I…uh, I…” I trail off, choking on my words.
“I won’t leave until I see him.” His tone is fierce, but his eyes tenderly search mine, crumbling all the walls I’ve worked so hard to erect around my heart.
Christian is his son.
I’ve protected Christian from my work life, but I can’t protect him from his own father. There’s no need. Lucca may have broken my heart, but Christian is still his. He’s not a danger to my son.
“Okay,” I whisper. “He’s sensitive and quiet. Not your typical rowdy boy. I…uh, it’s just that it’s late and sometimes he gets crabby.”
He frowns. “You think I won’t like my own kid?”
“N-No,” I rush out. “I just worry. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
The conviction behind his words has me taking his offered hand. For so long, I’ve done everything myself. I’ve assured myself everything is going to be okay. But I had to be the one to make that happen. Now that Lucca is here, making promises, it’s hard to deny the pull he has on me.
He’s quiet as we enter the dark house. The light is on in Christian’s bedroom, and it pours into the hallway. I turn to Lucca before we make it to the doorway.
“Let me talk to him for a minute, okay?”
Lucca nods, his expression unreadable. I’m a bundle of nerves. I peek my head around the corner and find it’s just Christian sitting on the bed with a book in his lap.
“Did Grandma go to bed?”
He nods. “Can you read a story, Mommy?”
“I can,” I assure him. “And then I want you to meet someone.”
His blue eyes widen and he perks up. “Your friend outside?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “He’s…uh, he’s someone really special.”
“Will he read me a story?”
The floorboard creaks, and I whip my head around. Lucca walks into the bedroom, a gentle smile on his handsome face. My heart aches at seeing them meet for the first time.
“I’m Lucca,” Lucca says, kneeling beside the bed.
Christian jerks his head my way, silently asking, “My dad?”
“This is Lucca Russo,” I confirm. “Your father.”
I hold my breath. The room is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
“Can I call you Daddy?” Christian asks him.
Lucca turns to look at me, a wild mixture of happiness and awe on his face. “Can he?”
“Of course,” I breathe, choking back tears.
Christian beams at me, then turns to Lucca. “Were you lost?”
Lucca’s jaw clenches, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, buddy, I was. Really lost.”
“I think Mommy was sad you were lost,” Christian tells him, his bottom lip poking out. “I was sad too.”
Lucca shoots me a heartbroken look that stabs me right in the heart. He left me. I was knocked up with his son and all alone. I was scared—scared not only that he’d push me away again, but also push away his perfect little boy.
“Breezy,” Lucca says, clearing his throat as he stands. “Why don’t you take a shower and put your pajamas on? I’ll read Christian a story.”
“Breezy?” Christian asks.
Lucca kicks off his shoes and pulls off his jacket before gesturing for Christian to scoot to the middle of the bed. “You want me to read you this story or tell you how your mommy got the nickname Breezy?” Lucca winks at me to let me know he plans on making something up.