Chapter 3
Drake
“I’m here strictly on Mom’s orders,” Langley says. “She wants to take the kids to the art museum. I’m going with her, and I told her I’d meet her and her driver there.”
He looks around the kitchen island, rubs his hands, and grabs a plate. He does this almost every weekend. He figures out a way to drop by right at breakfast time.
“You think you can make me an omelet?” he asks as he piles French toast on his plate.
“Why didn’t Mom call me or Nia?” I ask my brother.
“I want to see the fishes,” Carter says.
My phone vibrates and 'Mom' flashes across the screen. It’s always like this on the weekends. Between Nia’s family and mine, our kids are always in high demand.
My mom not only feels she must compete with Nia’s parents, but that she has to make up for the years she lost out on with Carter. She also feels she has to compensate for the fact that my father was the one who kept us from him. She goes above and beyond for every holiday and birthday. She wants quality time with the kids, and once a week, she comes to the house to spend time alone with Priya while Carter is at school.
“Mom,” I say only for her to tell me she’s ten minutes away.
So, instead of making one omelet for Langley, I also make one for her. She arrives just as I’m plating both, and breakfast is served for six instead of four.
Once the kids are done eating, Mom and Nia take them upstairs to get dressed. She won’t ever need to pack a diaper bag or overnight bag for our kids. They have full wardrobes and bedrooms at my mom’s house, not to mention their own playroom with every toy or game that has ever been invented.
They leave soon after, promising to be back this afternoon. The upside is that I get to have this rainy Saturday alone with my wife. The rule is that since I cook, she cleans, but without the need to distract our children, I help her.
“About what you said last night,” she says once the kitchen is pristine again. She comes over and takes my hands in hers. “When?” she asks.
“Soon. Not this weekend. I was thinking next weekend when the kids are with your parents.” Nia’s parents take all their grandchildren one weekend a month. This tradition started before I knew I had a son. “I don’t want them here when I finally deal with this.”
“Do you want me there?” she asks. She bites her bottom lip and waits. My wife never talks badly about my father. She never mentions him at all. If we’re with my family and the topic comes up, she’ll remain quiet until someone changes the subject .
“I want you everywhere,” I tell her right before I pull her into my arms. “If I could, I’d never let you out of my sight, but I don’t want to upset you.” I put my hand on her belly. “Or our baby.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I shove down the pang of disappointment, but this is my battle, not hers. My father left this for me, and I should have to deal with it alone. Other than Nia, my best friend—Wyatt—and my father’s former attorney, no one else knows about the existence of this letter and recording.
“I want to be there,” she whispers. She looks up and cups my face. “I want to be there for you.”
“His deception hurt you too,” I remind her, but I exhale in relief about not having to do this alone. “It hurt you so much. You not only went through a pregnancy without me, but you thought I abandoned you. He’s the cause of that, Nia. Him, then me for not fighting harder for you. For not telling you that I was in love with you.”
She puts a fingertip to my lips.
“I think it hurt you worse, baby,” she says. “You missed three years because of him. I never missed a second with our son. I got to experience the miracle of growing him in my body. I was there when he came into the world and took his first breath. I had so much support in my family, but let’s not debate who had it worse, okay? We both were dealt a terrible hand, but we’re a team, and as long as you want me there, I’ll be by your side.” I put my hand on her stomach again. “Our baby will be fine. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I rest my chin on top of her head and hold her close. “I don’t think I could take this on without you.”
“You won’t ever have to take anything on without me. I promise you that. ”
“Another reason I want to do this next week is to get it out of the way before Christmas.”
“I get it, but it might take time to process whatever he says. I don’t think it will be a matter of reading his letter, watching his recording, checking those boxes, and moving on. There’s a reason you’ve put this off.” She’s right, of course, but I don’t have the luxury of wallowing in pity. I have a business to run and a family to look after. I have a pregnant wife who needs me. “I want you to promise me something,” She pulls away and looks into my eyes.
I run my finger down her smooth cheek. “I promise,” I say. Whatever she wants, it’s hers.
“Promise me you’ll give yourself time to deal with your feelings. Whatever they are, I want you to take your time. Don’t worry about me or—”
“It’s my job to worry about my family. Even if I wanted to, I can’t stop worrying about the people I love most.”
“I knew you’d say that,” she says with a knowing grin. “So, you can understand that’s exactly how I feel about my husband, right? I worry about you, too, so I’m ordering you to put yourself first for once. If you need time to deal with it, take it. Whatever that means. If you want to be alone for a little while, then that’s—”
“Baby girl, you think our baby doll Princess P won’t search this entire house looking for her dada? And what about my little shadow? There’s nothing that will make me ignore my family. I don’t want to miss a moment of this life.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me. She buries her face in my chest, and I rub her back. “As long as you’re there with me, I can handle anything.”
“You’ve got this, Paradise,” she says into my chest. “You know I love you. ”
“I know you do.” I kiss the top of her head. “I love you too.” She lets out a little shriek when I pick her up bridal style. “Where are you taking me?” she asks when I rush out of the kitchen and up the back staircase.
She’s as light as a feather in my arms. She laughs the entire way up the stairs and to our bedroom. When I get there, I gently put her on the bed and slide in next to her. She cuddles to my side, and I hold her close to me.
“I’m excited for Christmas,” she says. I grin and close my eyes. I can already see it. Our first Christmas together as husband and wife was the best holiday I ever spent. At that time, my wife was slowly getting used to having unlimited funds.
I remember talking to my mom and asking her to casually mention how she hires a decorator to decorate the house every holiday. The only thing they don’t do is trim the tree. We still do that together as a family. Mom had suggested Nia hire a decorator, too, since that would save her time, and I saw the wheels turning in her head when she'd looked at me with eyes wide, as if asking if such a thing were possible.
I had nodded and she'd texted my mom for the name of her decorator. That same year, Nia accepted my mother’s invitation to trim the Paradise Christmas tree. Carter had a blast looking through all the ornaments I made as a young boy.
“Your dad had a good laugh at my expense that first year,” I say about our first Christmas as a family.
“He did,” she agrees between giggles.
“I still have nightmares about that.” Nia’s father showed up at our old apartment the weekend after Thanksgiving with about a dozen cardboard cutouts of Mariah Carey dressed as Mrs. Claus. He put them all over the penthouse. It happened while I was out, and when I came home, I had to walk through the maze of Mariahs. My wife loved it, but it still gives me nightmares .
“I’ll only put two up this year,” she promises. “But I can’t wait to decorate the house and get Carter and Priya ready for Santa. And we’re going to announce my pregnancy when we have the family here for our party.”
As much as I’m looking forward to this party, I’m not looking forward to all the other things that come with the holidays. We're spread thin between business obligations and my mom and Nia’s parents’ parties. It’s a juggling act to get through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We spend the night before Christmas with my mom and Christmas morning at home, but Nia’s parents expect us at their place no later than noon. We spend the rest of the day there, and by the time we get home, we’re exhausted.
“I’m looking forward to us getting on the Paradise jet and going to a warmer climate for a few days.” Our first Christmas together, we got on the plane to the Bahamas on December twenty-sixth and didn’t return until January second. We didn’t go last year because Priya was so small, but we’ve already promised Carter and his cousins that we’re going back this year.
Our nephews were so excited when I announced it that they wanted to pack that night. That was two months ago.