“C’mon, Chris. Quit dragging your feet and get a move on.” I call back over my shoulder. He’s not too happy that I’m forcing him to come to work with me today. I told him I was gonna make him mop floors, not that he’ll be meeting one of his heroes.

It was nice of Mack to offer to talk to him. I think Chris might actually listen to someone he admires so much. With all the media coverage Mack has gotten, I think Chris sees him as a bit of a father figure.

Little does he know.

My gut twists with guilt when I think about how I still need to figure out how to discuss that with Mack. After all, he has a right to know that Chris is his son. I just need things to calm down a bit first. It’s hard to bring up his paternity in casual conversation. Between his son making me run off to get him out of trouble every five minutes, and Mack trying to make a move on me every five seconds …. Well, it makes it difficult to throw it in the mix.

“I’m coming, jeez, calm down.” Chris sulks behind me.

That does it.

I whirl around on my heel with my finger already drawn like a cowboy at a quick draw. “Listen to me, young man. I’m not one of your little friends. You talk to me with respect, Christopher. If you want to keep pushing me, I swear, I’ll have you scrubbing bed pans by the end of the day.”

His eyes grow about two sizes bigger. He doesn’t need to know I don’t deal with bedpans at my job. “Now, stand up straight and get your attitude in check.”

I wait for the smart remark, or the eye roll, or the sigh. My shoulders are so tense; I feel like a cat ready to pounce on a field mouse. However, Chris just nods at me, straightens up and walks beside me.

“Ok, let’s go,” he agrees, leaving me in far deeper shock than if he would’ve tried to curse at me again.

I might be surprised, but I’m not about to let him know. “That’s right, let’s go,” I parrot his words and march my son into the hospital.

We make it all the way to the elevator and Chris still hasn’t given me anymore flack. This has to be some kind of record.

When the elevator doors pop open on Mack’s floor, I’m actually feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time: optimism. It’s a cautious optimism, but I’ll take it over the bleeding-ulcer-worry I’ve been dealing with all week.

I guide my son, our son, to Mack’s room with a little spring in my step. Maybe all of this was just the storm before the rainbow. Maybe Chris will go back to being the sweet kid I knew before Joel was taken away from us. Maybe … Mack’s room is empty.

Of course it is.

My hopes begin to tumble like a tower of Jenga blocks. They’re probably built on a foundation just as stable.

“Nurse Brickman, so nice to see you!”

I wheel around to the direction of Mack’s familiar voice and my heart soars. I need to get off this emotional roller coaster. These two guys are killing me.

Chris turns around and a smile brighter than the North Star spreads over his face. “No way! Captain America? I mean, uh, Captain, uh, what’s your real name again?”

Mack laughs and I can’t help but smile. “You know, people have been calling me Captain America for so long now, I almost forgot it myself. The name’s Forrester. Mack Forrester. You can call me Mack, if you want.” He extends his hand to Chris and I feel a swell of pride as I watch our boy try his best to return a manly handshake.

I look at the smile on Chris’s face and over to the same one on Mack. Mirror images. The resemblance is so obvious; I can’t help but wonder if Mack has connected the dots just by glancing at him.

“I’m Chris,” our son shakes Mack’s hand and lets go. For a second, neither of them talks. My heart is thudding hard as I wonder if they can see the features they share.

“It’s nice to meet you. Your mother speaks very highly of you,” Mack finally answers. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Chris looks over at me and raises an eyebrow in silent skepticism.

“It’s true,” I manage to croak. Between the fear of Mack calling me out on paternity and the overwhelming joy of watching my guys meet for the first time, I’m barely keeping it together.

“So, Chris …” Mack trails off like he’s thinking it all through.

Here we go.

“Your mom has been putting me through the paces, teaching me how to use my new running blade. Would you like to come down to the track with me so I can show her how I’m kicking her physio program’s ass?”

Chris snorts at Mack’s language and I shoot his father a look.

“I mean its butt. Kicking its butt,” Mack corrects himself and gives Chris a wink.

“I’d love to. Can I?” He looks over to me with his soulful eyes, giving me his best puppy dog stare.

“Yes, of course,” I nod. I can’t help but grin at how excited Chris is. If he wasn’t already too cool for school, he’d probably be jumping up and down like a kid on a bouncy castle.

“Alright, let me get changed and grab my blade and we’ll head out.”

Obviously, Mack has a plan. I’m not sure what it is, but I trust him. It’s nice to see Chris excited about something again. I let myself imagine a world where Chris and Mack get along like this all the time. A world where the smiles on our faces don’t feel new anymore. A world where the three of us are together like this all of the time.

As a family.