SYLVIE

“You are joking,” I say to my lawyer, because I know she must be.

“If you heard my to-do list for today, you’d know I do not remotely have time to call my clients and make up stories about a 62-year-old former CEO trying to have the mother of his son’s lovechild killed,” Amber shoots back.

No, I suppose she would not make time in her busy schedule to try to sell me on this tale. Still, I have to ask, “Are you sure about this? It was really Jack Calson and not Holt?”

“According to the news, both he and his bodyguard were arrested this afternoon. And the FBI woman’s exact words were, ‘We’d like to meet with your client as we have reason to believe Jack Calson might have had a hand in a recent attempt on her life.’ And having been passed over for state’s evidence as a teen myself, believe me they would not have bothered to put in a call to you if they didn’t have a strong case against your baby daddy’s dad.”

“Mom!” Barron calls from the other room.

“Hold on a minute, I’m on the phone,” I call back to him. Then I ask Amber, “What does this mean? Do I still have to fight him for custody since Holt didn’t do it?”

“Now that this is national news and beyond complicated, we’ll probably have to take it through the public court system. But I highly doubt any judge is going to remand a kid who has asked in writing not to be handed over to the father whose own father tried to have his mother killed. Man, just saying that feels like a tongue twister. See, it’s too complicated. And even if they do, I’d be all over them in the media with enough shame tactics to crash their stock.”

“Mom!” Barron calls again.

And this time, I do not even bother to answer him. “I’m so confused,” I tell Amber. “So you had Kyle Drinnen put into protective custody. And then somehow got a fake article about his death published in the Arkansas Sun. But why would Jack Calson confess just because he thought Kyle was dead?”

“Actually, we have Holt to thank for the fake article and confession. I didn’t want to tell you until it was a done deal, but after talking with the FBI, he came to my office to—”

“MAMA!!!” Barron yells right outside my door before Amber can finish.

Amber chuckles and says, “Girl, relax. Go see what that genius son of yours wants and call me back after he goes to bed. I’ll be here to answer all your questions—have I mentioned this is the most exciting case I’ve had in, like, ever?”

And as if to punctuate her invitation to hang up, Barron full on opens the door and yells, “Mama!”

“Barron, hold on,” I hiss near the end of my last nerve with the boy I have been so worried about keeping up until now.

But Barron does not hold on. Instead, he drops his voice to tell me, “Dad’s here!”

Technically, Holt is allowed to be here, I think to myself when I walk into the living room of my Stamford apartment to find him sitting in the old recliner Aunt Judith loaned me until I can save enough to buy furniture of my own.

He is dressed in a tailored suit and his shoes are so shiny, I could probably see my reflection in them if I bent down. This is how he dresses, I remind myself, but he makes the apartment I’d been so happy to find and afford feel small and squalid.

I stand there, desperately wishing I could run away from this confrontation but not wanting to act like a coward in front of my son.

“Barron, please go wait in your room. I will come get you when we are done.”

“But, Mama…” he starts, his huge eyes eating up Holt like an archangel has come to pay visit,

“You will not like it if I have to ask you twice,” I answer before he can finish that sentence.

A moment of silence passes, then soft footsteps signal he’s decided today won’t be the day to see whether he’ll like it or not.

Holt’s intense gaze shifts from me to our son, following him out of the room before it returns to me. “He reminds me of myself when I was a kid. I always thought I was smart enough to stay with the adults when my dad visited. And I never understood why they always sent me away.”

“What do you want, Holt?” I ask. Then I brace myself, waiting for the latest threat.

But after a long moment, Holt sighs and says, “Look…I…my father…”

I wait. Fascinated because I have never seen him at a loss for words.

But in the end, he huffs and says, “I’m dropping the suit for full custody.”

I am not like Holt. I cannot hide my emotions behind a stony façade. My utter surprise registers across my face before I can stop it. But I recover quickly, composing myself before I say, “Yes, I heard your father was arrested for trying to kill Kyle Drinnen and plotting to kill me. So now this has become a case you cannot win.”

“You think this is about me being afraid I can’t win against you in court?” He shakes his head, eyes hardening. But then just as quick, his expression goes soft again. “No, Sylvie, if I wanted to take full custody of Barron, I could. I’ve got the money and the power and that’s what my father would do. But…I’m not my father. I thought that’s who I had to become to get what I wanted, to keep myself from ever being hurt again. But turns out my father is a sociopath. He thinks power and money are more important than human lives. And I don’t care how upset I was with you, I would never have tried to kill you. And the fact that you think I would do that, even for a second, shows me how many wrong turns I’ve made with you.”

He shakes his head again. “Listen, Sylvie, you know my story. Know how my mother died. I don’t have any excuses for the last few months, except that I couldn’t figure out any other way to keep you. I don’t…I’m not good with love, I guess. The last woman I truly loved killed herself, and I could see it coming but there was nothing I could do about it. She slipped through my hands. So, I held on to you. I tried to trap you, and I scared you enough to believe I wouldn’t be a good dad to Barron. I’m sorry for doing that.”

I stare at him wide-eyed. Unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You are apologizing to me? Forgiving me?” I ask him. “Just like that? Even though I kept Barron from you all this time?”

His eyes shift to the arched doorway Barron left through. “At the end of the day, he’s not completely fucked up. And that is because you raised him, not me. He’s great and smart and mentally stable, for reasons that have nothing to do with me. But instead of thanking you for being the parent I wasn’t capable of being, I tried to take him from you. Because of my pride. I’m sorry. But…I’m going to prove to you that I’ve changed. Weekends. That’s all I’m asking for now until I prove I can be the kind of dad you’ll want to share custody with.”

I continue to stare at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say about his big change of heart…until suddenly, I do.

“No,” I say to him.

His body stiffens, going rigid as if my “no” has sent a bullet through his gut.

“You won’t even let me have weekends?” he asks, his voice coarse with pained shock.

“No, I won’t let you have weekends,” I answer, my tone hard. For the first time in my life, I feel strong in his presence.

“Ten years ago, you fought to keep me from running. And then you fought to put us back together in Mexico. You tried to offer me everything I ever wanted in Arkansas, and I planned to run away from you again. Because even though I tried to be perfect, I’m not and I was afraid you’d reject and hate me when you found out just how imperfect I am. I was always trying to run before you could push me away like my mother. But I have one question for you now, Holt Calson. Do you love me? Even after I ran, even after I kept Barron from you. Do you still love me? Can you still love me?”

His expression changes, his blue eyes softening as he answers, “Sylvie, with you it’s never been a matter of if I still love you. The real question, the only question, is will I ever be able to stop loving you. And the answer to that question is no.”

I shake my head, my heart singing like a kalimba inside my chest. “In that case, you cannot have weekends. I am fighting back now. Standing up for myself and for our son. And if you want to have a relationship with us, you must let us move back in. You must let us try to be a family together with you and Wes as we are so obviously meant to be—or why else would the universe have put us back together in Mexico? From now on, I am fighting for us, Holt. And in this case, I will not settle for anything else.”

My heart is all the way inside my throat. But for the first time in my life, I am absolutely certain that what I am saying, what I am doing, is right. And I don’t take back what I’ve said. I don’t back down or soften my stance.

Instead, I wait for his answer.

Which comes instantly, like the sun suddenly obliterating a rainy day. A wide, heartbreakingly handsome smile spreads across his face, followed by the rich sound of his laughter.

Then he steps forward and pulls me into his arms for a kiss worthy of a girl who has finally stopped running from her prince.