Chapter 28
ASHTON
I sat alone in my office, staring out the floor to ceiling window, watching the city move below me. Cars crawled through traffic, people rushed along the sidewalks, horns blared in the distance. The world was loud, alive, and moving forward, while my mind was stuck somewhere else entirely.
Bailey had blindsided me the night before.
We had been discussing how to move forward, the fragile truce we had reached, when she asked if I wanted to see him.
I did not even have time to answer properly before Tristan appeared on the screen. My son. The first time I had ever seen him like this, alive and real. Every thought, every rehearsed word, vanished, leaving me frozen and breathless.
Bailey introduced me carefully, calling me her longtime friend from school. She protected him, even from the truth about me. I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt like a coward.
Tristan was smart, polite, and endlessly curious.
He asked me about the town where his mother grew up and whether it looked different from the place he lived in now.
Then he excitedly told me about his new hobby, football.
Adam, Bailey’s best friend’s husband, had been coaching him and encouraging him to play.
I smiled and praised him, but jealousy burned quietly in my chest. Another man was standing where I should have been all these years. Cheering him on. Teaching him how to kick a ball. Being present.
That should have been me.
Still, I knew pushing for custody right now would have been wrong. Tristan was happy. Secure. A custody battle would only disrupt his life. I wanted to be his father, not the reason his world turned upside down. I needed to be careful. Strategic. Patient.
Meanwhile, Lynda had been leaving messages on my phone, asking to meet, pleading for a second chance, saying she was willing to step back and be just a friend if that was all I could give after everything we had shared.
I ignored every single one. It felt cruel, but my plate was already overflowing, and she was no longer my priority.
My thoughts were interrupted when my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately. “Hi, Mom. How was Aunt Jenny?”
“She and the grandchildren were doing well,” she said warmly. “She kept asking when you were coming to visit.”
“Tell her soon. Maybe Christmas.”
“You are working too hard, Ashton,” she said gently. “Your father is gone. You no longer need to prove that you can carry his legacy. It is time you focus on your future.”
I already sensed what was coming.
“And speaking of your future,” she continued, “why am I hearing that your wedding has been called off?”
So the news had already reached her.
“There will be no wedding,” I said quietly. “I ended it. We were not compatible.”
She sighed. “As sorry as I am, I am not surprised.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because you never looked like a man in love,” she answered honestly.
“Something always felt off. She tried too hard, Ashton. Everything she did felt rehearsed, like she was performing instead of being herself. She appeared suddenly in your life, and not long after, you announced your engagement. Yet you looked distant, almost distracted, as if you forgot she was standing right in front of you.”
“Then why did you not say anything to me?”
“Because I wanted you to be happy,” she replied softly. “Whatever decision you made, I supported it. I did not want to see you broken again like you were after your last relationship.”
She had never spoken openly about Bailey, but I knew she had always known more than she let on.
“Mom,” I said, taking a breath, “I need to tell you something before you hear it from someone else. Please do not panic.”
“Ashton Theodore Miller,” she snapped. “What have you done now?”
Her voice sharpened, and the familiar dread settled in my stomach. She only used my full name when she was truly upset. It reminded me of my childhood, of every reckless mistake I had ever made.
“Geez, Mom,” I muttered. “I was not a little boy anymore.”
“I know you,” she said flatly. “You only spoke this gently when you were about to confess something terrible. Just like when you were ten and decided to climb onto the roof to retrieve your football instead of asking for help.”
I groaned. “You were still angry about that?”
“You broke your arm,” she snapped. “And you lied to me about it. Do you know how terrified I was when the school called? So do not tell me not to panic.”
I sighed. “Mom… it was only one time.”
“Only one time,” she repeated. “Now tell me what you have done.”
I took a long breath. “I just found out I have a son.”
There was silence on the line.
After a few seconds, she said slowly, “Did you just say you have a son, or do I need to get my hearing checked?”
“You heard correctly,” I replied. “I have a son. His name is Tristan.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is that why the engagement ended? Did Lynda find out you cheated and had a child?”
“No, Mom,” I said firmly. “I never cheated. Not ever. I will explain my relationship with Lynda later, but that is not important right now. Tristan is seven years old. His mother is Bailey. She came back a few weeks ago.”
I heard her gasp.
“Are you sure the child is yours?”
“One hundred percent,” I said. “If you see him, you will know. He looks exactly like me. And before you get angry at Bailey for keeping him from me, you need to know this. She never cheated. Everything was planned by Father.”
She exhaled shakily. “I always had a feeling that girl was not what people said she was. I met Bailey once. She was genuinely sweet and kind. And you both loved each other.”
“Mom,” I asked quietly, “did you know about Father’s scheme all along?”
“I swear I did not,” she said quickly. “But I suspected something. After Bailey disappeared from your life, your father seemed relieved. He used to say things like it turned out better than expected. Whenever I asked what he meant, he would smile and say nothing. I am so sorry, Ashton.”
“So am I,” I murmured. “As much as I want to hate him, he is no longer here.”
She paused before asking, “Now that you know you have a son, does that mean you and Bailey are together again?”
“No,” I admitted. “Even though I wanted it more than anything, there was no room for me in her heart anymore. She made that very clear. But she was willing to share Triston with me. We were figuring out how to co parent. It was complicated, especially since she was only visiting and would be returning to Michigan soon.”
“Well, you better figure it out quickly,” she said decisively. “I cannot wait to meet my grandson. I think it is time I return home. Maybe I can finally get to know Bailey properly. Your father never approved of her, and I never got the chance to.”
“I will see you soon,” I said. “Love you, Mom.”
After the call ended, I leaned back in my chair. Talking to my mother brought relief, but deep down, I knew even she might not be able to thaw the ice around Bailey’s heart.
And that realization hurt more than anything else.