Liv
After Damon’s blood had been drawn, dinner is served in our suite. Harold is quiet, as he seems a bit shy around the man who is most likely his father. And so is Damon.
Deciding it might be best for me to talk in order to stop this eerie silence, I ask, “Do you like the duck, Damon?”
“Sure,” he says then leans over and nudges Harold’s shoulder. “Do you like those chicken nuggets, Harry?”
Harold nods and pops another one into his mouth. “Mmm.”
In an attempt to keep up some chatter, I say, “Genevieve looked me up last year and had me help her with finding you, Damon. She’d been a bit sneaky when you two spent your time together. Your wallet was left on the dresser it seems, and she jotted down your name and was able to get your military ID number as well. It made finding you a piece of cake.”
“I was wondering about that,” he says with a smile. “You and little Harry here seem like you know each other pretty well.”
“We do.” I ruffle Harold’s hair and push a carrot stick toward him. “Veggies, please.”
With a nod, he complies and takes the carrot. Damon watches us, then says, “How is it that you were hired as her lawyer, then ended up getting close to her kid and her?”
“That is odd,” I agree with him. “You see, Genevieve seemed to have a sixth sense about her. It came to her quite suddenly when Harold was only three years old that she needed to make sure things were set up for him if she should meet her end sooner rather than later.”
“So he’s four?” Damon asks.
I don’t have to answer as Harold nods and holds up four of his chubby fingers. “Four, yep!”
“Anyway, Genevieve wanted me to stay around. Get to know her son and how she was raising him. And get to know the ins and outs of the business too. A thing I have to admit, I didn’t get to. The CEO has taken over their company, a thing I thought was best. I did make a deal with him that thirty percent of all profits will still go to Harold and Harold’s father.”
“Wait. What?” Damon looks a little shocked. “If I’m his father, then I’ll get a percentage of the profits?”
“Yes.” I nod and push a piece of broccoli toward Harold. “How about some greens, love?”
With a smile, he eats the little green vegetable and makes me happy. “I like twees!”
Going on, I add, “If you’re his father, then you’ll inherit many things. And I’ll show you what that all is once we get the results back. The truth is that you could go back to the States at this point, until we get the results. But Genevieve was so sure that I thought it’d be best to let you and Harold have this week to get to know one another. That way, when the results do come back, you can get to being the family you will be without much ado about the whole thing.”
Two lines form on Damon’s forehead as he frowns and looks at the food on his plate, pushing it about with his fork. “I see.”
Biting my lip, I have to wonder if I’m pushing him too much and too fast. “Damon, this child has been without a parent for three months, a time period I came up with. He’s secure with me and he knows that. I didn’t want to introduce a stranger into his life just as he’d lost his family. That said, I expect you to step up, the same as you’ve done for our country. Do your duty as a father to this child.”
Damon’s dark eyes narrow at me as he hisses, “We shouldn’t speak this way in front of the b-o-y.”
Harold smiles as he looks at Damon. “Dat spells boy. I know dat word. And I can spell cat, c-a-t, and dog, d-o-g!”
“What a smart young man you are,” Damon says with a smile, then looks at me. “But you get what I want, right?”
With a nod, I comply with his wishes. “Genevieve was an open book with him. I’m just used to speaking freely in front of him. I will do as you wish, though. We can talk in private whenever you want to.”
“Thank you,” he says then stabs a piece of duck with his fork. “Being a parent isn’t a thing I know two shits …” He looks at Harold who’s smiling at him. “Sorry about the language, kiddo. I’m not used to being around kids.”
“Dat’s okay. Mummy said bad words too.” Harold chuckles as he picks up his cup of milk.
“Being a parent doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Damon,” I let him know. “And you can find your own parenting path as time moves along.”
Chewing on his lip, I find Damon looking at me. “Later, Liv. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” I say and focus on eating my food.
The man seems to be having some kind of an inner struggle. I wish he’d let me speak freely. Then he’d know he’ll have enough money not to have to worry about a thing. I can see he’s wondering how he’ll take care of Harold and still do his military duties—a thing he won’t have to worry about once the DNA test comes back and I can set him up in his new life.
When Harold’s eyes start to droop as he finishes off his glass of milk, I know the kid’s sleepy. It’s his routine: eat dinner, take a bath, go to bed. “Aunt Wiv, I’m sweepy.”
Damon laughs a bit at how the boy speaks. “He has that Elmer Fudd thing going on, doesn’t he?”
“Who?” Harold asks.
“Nevermind,” I say as I get up and take the boy’s hand. “Let’s get you bathed and into your jammies, then off to bed you’ll go.”
Damon gets up too and walks toward the door. “You do that. I’m going to go down to that bar I saw on the first floor for a little while. How long does it usually take you to get him to sleep?”
Feeling kind of miffed that he thinks he can just go chill while I take care of everything else, I spurt out, “An hour. Be back in an hour.”
His chuckle infuriates me as he pulls his jacket on. “Okay, boss. One hour. Should I bring you up a drink?”
“If you want,” I say with a quipped tongue then leave the room.
I’d like nothing more than to tell the man that his time is limited. Going out for a drink or two while a woman cares for his child isn’t a thing that’ll be happening once that test comes back, proving he’s the father of Harold.
Running the bath water, Harold strips down and nearly dives into the bubbly water. “Yeah!”
Finding the bag of bath supplies for the youngster, I toss in a couple of yellow ducks and some his favorite toy soldiers. He takes one and sits it on one of the duck’s backs. “I taught dis is what my daddy would wook wike.” The toy soldier is dressed in green camouflage and a beret.
“Well, I suppose Damon wanted to dress more formally for your first meeting. Do you like him?” I ask as I rub a bar of soap with a washcloth.
“He’s okay,” he says then shoves the duck underwater and lets it go. It bobs to the surface, the soldier coming up next to him. “Are you gonna weave me?” His huge blue eyes look up at me and I nearly want to cry.
Rubbing the soapy cloth over his little shoulders, I say, “No. I’ll always be here for you, Harold. Forever. You remember that. I’m your Godmother. Remember when we went to the church and the priest said some prayers and then told you that?”
He nods as I run the washcloth under his arm and he laughs. “Dat tickles.”
“I know it does, but we have to clean under your tinky underarm anyway,” I say with a laugh and clean under his other arm as he tries to squirm away.
I’ve been living at the estate for nearly a year. But with Damon coming into the picture, I suppose I’ll have to move out. But I won’t be leaving London. Genevieve left me enough money to stay on in London until Harold reaches eighteen.
I’ll be around to make sure Harold is loved and cared for. Damon is a wild card. Genevieve was well aware of that. And I’m ready to take the child over if he won’t step up. The money should help Damon to take his role as the boy’s father seriously. I did add stipulations to it, just to make sure he does the right thing.
If Damon leaves the child for a period any longer than a month at a time, he will be locked out of the account that was set up for him. But I doubt a career Navy man like himself cares a lot about money. That was a thing I’d told Genevieve. Money may not be the right catalyst for the man to do what’s right.
I’ll just have to get to know him better to determine what I need to do to make him be the father Harold needs in his life. With Damon going out on his first night here, that leaves me troubled. How am I to get to know the real man if he’s liquored up anytime we’re alone?