The past week has flown by and now it’s Saturday, ‘Meeting with Ryan’ day.
I leave Brody with Thomas at his apartment, having put Brody down for his afternoon sleep in the Pack ‘n Play in the guest room.
“It’ll be fine,” Thomas says against my lips, pressing me into the wall beside his front door and kissing me breathless.
“You’re not making it easy to leave.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m just making sure you’re coming back to me.” He runs kisses down my neck, driving me crazy and blowing my intentions to leave right out the window.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about there.”
“Good,” he whispers against my lips. “Now go so you can get back to your boys.”
My boys. God, I love the sound of that more and more every time he says it.
Thirty minutes later, I drive up to the curb outside Sean and Sam’s house and turn off the engine. I take a moment to breathe, not sure what exactly Ryan wanted to talk about but feeling somewhat better knowing that Sean will be there. That’s the only reason why Thomas agreed not to come. Not because he doesn’t trust Ryan—although I think that is a contributing factor—but more the fact that he wanted to be here for me.
Breathing and surprisingly rational thinking completed, I step out of my car and walk along the path toward the house.
After Sean lets me in, a genuine smile on his face, I find Ryan sitting at the dining room table with a glass of orange juice in his hand. He scrapes his chair against the floor and stands up, walking toward me and giving me another awkward hug, but adding a kiss on the cheek to this one. Okay, this is just weird now.
“Okay, guys. You’re kind of freaking me out here.” I look between the both of them, not seeing any sign of stress or tension.
“Take a seat, Amz. Do you want a drink?”
I sit down and clasp my hands in front of me on the table and meet Ryan’s eyes. “Please, Ryan. I just want to know what this is about. It’s been nagging at me all week.”
“All right,” he says, scraping his hand through his hair and sitting down opposite me. Sean joins us, taking a seat at the end of the table.
Ryan clears his throat, his hands fidgeting with two yellow envelopes lying on the table in front of him.
“I . . .” he glances toward his brother who dips his chin in response. Ryan looks back at me, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a slow deep breath.
“I’ve been sober for ninety days now but every day is still a struggle.”
“That’s good though, Ryan.”
“It is.” He nods, his fingers tracing the outline of the envelope.
“And it was good to meet Brody last weekend. He’s a great kid.”
“He is,” I say with a smile, something that always happens when it comes to my son.
“But . . .”
“Ryan, please . . .” I beg. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Please just tell me what you wanted to talk about. If it’s visitation rights or something like that, I’m open to talking about it. Thomas and I talked and—”
His eyes bore into me, a shine of unspoken emotion reflecting back at me.
“I met with a lawyer this week.” My chest tightens, all the breath in my lungs catching in my throat, as I try to anticipate what his next sentence will be. “And I’ve had some papers drawn up.” He places his palm on the left-most envelope and slides it across the table to me.
“Ryan, I wanted to talk to you so that we could—”
“Open it, Amz,” Sean says quietly, his low voice echoing off the walls of the otherwise quiet house.
I ease the tab of the envelope open and reach inside, sliding out two pieces of paper.
Holding them up to read the first one, I quickly glance over at Ryan who’s watching me closely, his hands clenched together in front of him. “The first one,” he says, nodding to the papers in my hand, “is details of a trust that is set up for Brody’s education. Sean is the executor and will look after everything.”
“Ryan, I—”
“Before you think I’ve done some big noble thing, let me explain. Our parents’ estate allocated money for any children that Sean and I might have. Sean’s kids each have this same trust and I wanted Brody to have the same. It’s his right and he should have it.”
I look at Sean who nods in agreement, showing me in that one movement that Ryan’s telling the truth.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say thank you,” Sean says, his lips curling up into a knowing half-grin. Looking back at Ryan, I see his shoulders loosen as he relaxes back into his chair. “Thank you, Ryan. This will help him do whatever he wants to do.”
“It’s not my money, Amz. This is something Brody is entitled to and I wanted to make sure he got it, whatever happens.” Those words give me pause. What does that mean?
“Ryan.” My voice is gentle, barely a whisper as I finally work it out. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
He sits up straight and scrubs his face. “I’ve talked to my counselor. I’ve talked to my sponsor, and I’ve talked to Sam and Sean.” Taking a deep breath, he leans his forearms on the table. “I’m not in a place to be the kind of person Brody needs or deserves in his life and I’m not sure I ever will be.”
My heart aches for the man in front of me I once called a friend. Unable to stop myself, I put the papers on the table and get up from my seat, rounding the table and moving into the chair beside Ryan. He doesn’t turn to face me though, the tick in his jaw working overtime as he struggles to keep his composure.
I reach out and cup his shoulder, finally getting his head to turn. My eyes sting as tears start to gather and fall. I know I should keep it together so that I can get Ryan through this but this side of him—the rarely seen selfless one—shows just how far he’s come in his recovery.
“If Brody ever wants to know me—or anything about me—I’m not closing that door to him, but everything Sean’s told me, everything I saw yesterday, I’m never going to be the father that Brody needs and honestly, he has everything he’ll ever need from you and Thomas. He’s Brody’s father. I didn’t make the best decision last year, but I’m sure as shit making the right one now. That notarized statement says I’m fully supportive of an application to terminate my parental rights in the event you would like Thomas to adopt Brody.”
“Oh my God,” I say, diving forward and wrapping my arms around Ryan’s neck. Burying my face in his tee, barely restrained sobs—okay, I’ve got no control over them whatsoever—wrack through me and Ryan’s arms soon come around me, no doubt to try and calm me down. Either that or he thinks some demon is trying to exorcise itself from my body.
“Are you sure? I would’ve never asked this of you,” I whisper, wanting this to be for his ears only. I love Sean to death but I need to know that this is one hundred percent Ryan’s decision. Sean would take a bullet for me, and would even go so far as to get his brother to walk away—again—if it was in Brody’s best interests.
“That’s why I’m giving it to you, to the three of you. What you do with that affidavit is up to you.”
With wet eyes and a no-doubt blotchy face, I pull back and lightly punch him in the shoulder, his body jerking back slightly with the hit.
“What was that for?” he asks with a laugh.
“That’s for making it impossible to hate you.”
“Da . . .”
“What buddy?”
“Da . . .”
“Ah okay. What do you want?” I ask and he leans forward, he pokes his clenched fist into my chest.
“Da . . . Da . . .” Holy shit. I freeze in place, not believing my ears but if the tightness in my chest is anything to go by, I didn’t mishear.
I pull him into my lap, tilting my chin down and meeting a gummy grin.
“Buddy,” I say gruffly, my throat thick with emotion.
It’s one thing to give yourself to a woman and accept her child as your own. It’s another for that child—almost seven-months-old—to acknowledge the bond in his own way, and Brody just did it in a sucker punch to the gut, shot to the heart, knock some sense into me kind of way like a Bon Jovi song on hyper drive.
Obviously in the moment, he reaches up and grips my lip with three fingers, pulling down hard enough to make my eyes water for an entirely different reason. I wrestle myself free but hold him up so we’re face to face. “Love you too.”
“Da.” This time he dives at my face, giving me an open mouthed, drooly kiss.
A key in the lock grabs our attention and look over to see a beaming Amy walk into the apartment with a yellow envelope in her hand. I check my watch and see it’s been over three hours since she was meant to meet Ryan.
I lift Brody into my arms and get off the floor, reaching her just in time for the baby to dive her way.
“Hey, baby. Did you miss me?” Brody gives Amy the same open mouth treatment which she laughs off as she pulls him into her chest. “Do I get the same treatment from my other favorite boy?” she asks, her eyes dancing as she looks over at me.
“Only if mine can be just as dribbly and wet.”
“How do you make something so gross sound kinda dirty?”
“It’s a talent.” I close the distance between us and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling them both into me. She tips her face up just as I dip mine down, touching my lips to hers in a soft kiss that turns momentarily heated before easing back.
“Let me put him down and then we’ll talk.” She looks deeply into my eyes and I don’t miss the weight of those words.
Something’s happened, something big.
She takes Brody back over to the rug and sets him in the middle of his mountain of toys I’d constructed earlier, earning a squeal of delight before she takes a seat on the sofa, patting the cushion beside her.
I feel like I’m treading water and the Jaws soundtrack has just come on in surround sound. All I can do is remember what Amy and I promised each other.
We’ll get through today, we’ll get through tomorrow and everything else life decides to throw at us.
“Sweetness, please put me out of my misery. I’ve been fighting the urge to drive over to Sean’s for the past few hours.” She reaches over and grabs my hand, covering it with both of her own.
“Jesus, Amz, give me something to go on here. Was it bad? Does he want visitation or something?” Her eyes soften and her top teeth dig into her bottom lip as her gaze drops from my face and her thumb stroking my skin.
Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and looks up at me.
“Am I your last?” What the fuck could’ve happened in the past two hours to have her questioning that?
“You damn well know you are,” I growl.
“And are you mine?”
“Always and forever if you’ll have me,” I say without hesitation. Never have I known something to be as true as that statement.
“Is Brody yours too?” My head jerks back, my chest tightening like a vise. If ever there was a moment in my life when I thought I might be having a heart attack, it would in this moment.
“In every possible way he can be.” Her eyes are soft and shining with emotion. “What’s going on? You’re starting to scare me here. Did something happen with Ryan?”
“You could say that . . .”
“You’re killing me here, Amz.”
She moves one of her hands and reaches behind her back, her arm jostling around before resting her closed fist on her bouncing leg.
“Okay, I’m not a patient man when it comes to you, sweetness.” Meeting my eyes, she watches me as she slides off the couch to kneel on the floor in front of me, turning her hand over and opening her fingers then the white box in her palm to reveal a wide platinum band.
Nope, that wasn’t a heart attack before but I’m definitely having one now. I open my mouth to tell Amy there’s a defibrillator in the lobby but nothing comes out, my jaw going slack as I sit there looking like a fish out of water.
For a man whose reputation is for always knowing what’s going on and anticipating what comes next, the woman in front of me has completely blindsided me.
“Ryan gave me that today,” she nods to the yellow envelope sitting on the couch, “and inside is the most selfless thing he could have ever done, a sworn statement supporting the termination of his parental rights.” My breath catches and I freeze in place. Never saw that coming.
Her shoulders rise and she closes her eyes for a second, her lips moving in a silent whisper before she looks straight up at me, a new steely resolve in place. I look for any sign of sadness in her eyes but I see nothing but determination and certainty in her expression.
Reaching forward, I cradle her outstretched hand and give her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“I love you, Thomas John Caldwell,” she says, her voice rough as her body trembles, her bottom lip quivering as she forges on. “I cannot imagine Brody growing up without you in his life to love him and guide him toward being the best man he could be. And I know there’s nobody else in the world who could do that because you’re the best man I know.”
“Sweetness,” I barely get the word out, my throat has a lump the size of Lake Michigan blocking it.
Amy tilts her head and with shaking fingers, deftly removes the ring and places the box on the floor before grabbing hold of my hand and sliding the ring onto the ring finger of my left hand.
“Be my last just as I am yours.” She seats the ring against my knuckle and dips her head to kiss it.
“Fuck, Amy. Yes.”
Her eyes widen when I drop to my knees on the floor, matching her stance.
“Yes?” she asks, her eyes wide and wondrous.
“Fuck yes,” I counter with a grin.
“Anything with the word yes in it sounds good to me.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and jerk her body against mine, thighs to chest, her arms forced to grab hold of my shoulders. Touching my forehead to hers, our lips a whisper’s breath apart, I take in the woman who just asked to spend forever with me.
I close the half-inch between us to kiss her but her fingers on my shoulders tense and hold me back. Lifting my head back I quirk an eyebrow at her, puzzled even more when I see a beaming smile on her face.
“I have one more life-changing question for you.”
“The answer is yes, it’s always yes for you, don’t you know that by now?”
Her whole expression goes melty and it just makes me want to kiss her more than I did before, which was a hell of a lot.
“I want you to adopt my son. Will you be Brody’s dad?” Nope, this is a heart attack. Actually, a heart explosion.
Amy runs her hands up my neck until her forearms are resting on my chest and her fingers are cupping my jaw.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Then I’ve had enough. I run my hand up her back, tangling my fingers in her hair and I kiss her, starting hard and with purpose, morphing into slow and meaningful, pouring everything I’m feeling and everything I am into it.
That’s until I feel a tugging on my pants from the floor beside me. We pull apart and both look down to be met by the toothless smile of Brody.
Our son.
THE END . . . BUT WAIT . . .