Chapter 13 #2
Then I see them—Jessica standing near a massive T-Rex head that juts from the wall, her hand resting on the shoulder of a small boy who's staring up at the dinosaur in wonder.
The sight of Tyler steals my breath. Even from this distance, the resemblance is unmistakable—Logan's eyes, Logan's jawline, Logan's contemplative head tilt as he studies something interesting.
"He's beautiful," I whisper.
Logan makes a strangled sound that might be agreement.
Jessica spots us first. Her posture shifts subtly, spine straightening, chin lifting. She kneels down to say something to Tyler, who turns to look our way. His small face registers curiosity, then uncertainty. He presses back against his mother's legs.
We close the distance. Jessica offers a tight smile. "Logan. You're right on time." Her gaze slides to me, cool assessment in her expression. "And you must be Reese."
"Yes. It's nice to meet you." The words sound stiff, formal. But what's the protocol here? Nice to meet you, woman who had a child with the man I'm dating? There's no etiquette guide for this situation.
"Tyler," Jessica says gently, "can you say hello to your dad and his friend Reese?"
Tyler peeks around his mother's leg, one small hand clutching the fabric of her jeans.
His hazel eyes—exact replicas of Logan's—take us in with solemn curiosity.
He's dressed in tiny jeans and a blue T-shirt with a cartoon dinosaur on it.
His dark hair falls across his forehead in the same way Logan's does when it's not styled.
"Hi," he says, the single syllable barely audible over the museum's thrumming.
Logan kneels, bringing himself to Tyler's level. "Hi, buddy. I like your shirt. Is that a stegosaurus?"
Tyler's eyes widen slightly. "No. Triceratops."
"Oh, right." Logan nods seriously. "Three horns. I should've known that."
The corner of Tyler's mouth twists into an almost-smile. He glances up at his mother, then back to Logan.
I kneel beside Logan, following his lead. Years of working with shy kindergartners has taught me not to push too hard, too fast. "I heard you like dinosaurs," I say. "Which one's your favorite?"
Tyler studies me, considering. After a long moment: "T-Rex."
"Really? Mine too!" I point to the massive head on the wall. "Look how big his teeth are. Can you imagine his mommy brushing those every night?"
Tyler's eyes light up. He steps slightly away from Jessica's legs. "And they had tiny arms."
"Super tiny," I agree, holding my arms close to my chest and wiggling my fingers in T-Rex fashion. "Makes it hard to give hugs."
That earns a real smile, a flash of tiny teeth and dimpled cheeks. Jessica shifts her weight above us, her hand still protective on Tyler's shoulder.
"There's a fossil dig area through there," she says. "Tyler's been wanting to check it out."
Logan stands, brushing off his jeans. "Lead the way, bud."
Tyler hesitates, looking from Logan to me to Jessica. Then he points toward the next exhibit. "This way!"
We follow him through the museum, Jessica keeping pace beside Tyler while Logan and I trail slightly behind. I catch Logan watching his son with a mixture of awe and terror, like he can't quite believe this small person exists and shares his DNA.
"You're doing great," I whisper, bumping his shoulder with mine.
"I have no idea what I'm doing," he whispers back.
"Join the club. It's called parenting."
The fossil dig area is filled with sand where partially buried replica bones wait to be discovered. Tyler approaches with purpose, grabbing a small brush from a basket and dropping to his knees in the sand. Logan follows suit, awkwardly lowering his large frame into the kid-sized space.
"Look for bones," Tyler instructs, all business now that he's in his element.
"Yes, sir," Logan says, earning another almost-smile.
I hang back with Jessica, both of us watching the pair brush sand away from a long bone that might be part of a leg.
"He's a good kid," I say softly.
Jessica's eyes never leave Tyler. "The best."
"You've done an amazing job with him."
Now she glances at me, surprise flickering across her features. "Thank you."
We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of our complicated situation pressing down on both of us.
"I'll never try to replace you," I say finally. "I just want you to know that."
"I know." Her voice is tight but not unkind. "And I didn't do this to disrupt your lives. I did it for him."
I nod, understanding. We're not friends—may never be—but we both care about what’s best for the same small person, and that has to count for something.
Tyler's excited voice breaks the moment. "I found a tooth! Daddy, look!"
Daddy. The word hangs in the air between us all. Logan's eyes widen, his hand frozen in the sand. Jessica's breath catches audibly. Tyler doesn't notice the adults' reactions, too busy brandishing his discovery.
"That's... that's awesome, buddy, high five!" Logan manages, his voice thick, putting his hand up. Tyler reaches up and puts his tiny hand in Logan’s and they look at each other proudly.
We move from exhibit to exhibit, Tyler gradually growing more comfortable with both Logan and me. At the construction zone, he shows us how to use the pulley system to lift foam blocks to the second level of a half-built structure.
"You have to pull hard," he explains, demonstrating with his small arms. "Like this."
I follow his instructions, exaggerating my effort to make him giggle. "Am I doing it right?"
"No, no. Like THIS." He takes the rope from my hands, showing me again with the earnest patience of a child who knows he's the expert.
Jessica checks her watch. "We should probably start heading out, Ty. It's almost lunchtime."
Tyler's face falls slightly. "But we didn't see the water room."
"Next time," Logan says quickly. "Maybe next week?"
Tyler looks to Jessica, who nods. "Next time."
As we gather their belongings—a small dinosaur backpack, Jessica's purse—Tyler tugs on Logan's pant leg. "Will she come too?" He points at me.
All eyes turn my way. I feel the weight of the question—not just about museum visits but about my place.
"If that's okay with you," I say carefully.
Tyler considers this, head tilted in that Logan-like way. "You're good at building stuff."
"High praise," Jessica says dryly, but there's the faintest hint of amusement in her tone.
As we head toward the exit, Tyler jumps between Logan and me. When he reaches up, one small hand extends to each of us. Logan's fingers close gently around his son's hand, his eyes meeting mine over Tyler's head. The wonder in his expression makes my throat tight.
I take Tyler's other hand, his tiny fingers warm and trusting in mine. His chatter about dinosaur facts fills the space between us as we walk toward the doors, the sunlight beyond streaming through the glass.
Jessica walks slightly ahead, her back straight, purse clutched tight against her side. There's a stiffness to her posture that speaks volumes about how difficult this is for her. But she's here. We're all here, figuring it out one step at a time.
Tyler swings our hands as we walk, creating a rhythm that feels like a beginning.
Not perfect, not easy, but possible. As we step out into the bright Chicago day, I realize we look like what we're becoming—an unconventional family, taking our first tentative steps together into uncertain territory.
Tyler laughs at something Logan says, the sound pure and uncomplicated.
Maybe that's the gift in all this chaos. The chance to see the world through Tyler's eyes—where dinosaurs are fascinating, pulleys are magical, and the adults in his life are just people who hold his hands when he reaches up. Simple. Clear. Present.
I squeeze his small hand gently, and he squeezes back without missing a beat in his monologue. Logan catches my eye again, mouthing "thank you" over Tyler's head.
I smile back. We can do this.