Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
CASSIUS
How did I get so damn lucky? A thought I was well aware of played on repeat recently.
And why was it that Dylan’s kisses were so addictive? Seriously, I couldn’t get enough of the man.
Fortunately, Mom was so used to me being, well, me, I didn’t think much shocked her these days. Even when I snatched a kiss from my husband when he left the room to use the bathroom.
I took a swig of my lemonade, my gaze traveling to Dad on the rug coloring with his grandson, though technically he didn’t know that it was more than love that bound them together.
That would change when we told them the truth.
When we realized Dad had baked his kick-ass bread, the scent hitting us as soon as we arrived to collect Mikey, all it took was one brief silent exchange for Dylan and me to settle in to share a meal with them.
Sandwiches, but on killer fresh bread, should have been basic, but damn if it wasn’t delicious. Maybe everything tasted sweeter with the loved-up lens I now stared at the world through.
“I’ll do that, Mom.” I took the plate off her and set about loading the dishwasher.
With a smile, Mom settled down at the kitchen table. “So everything really went okay?” she asked quietly after flicking a quick glance in Mikey’s direction. Playing hard with his papa, his attention wasn’t on us.
“It did. I just want it to all be over, though.”
A flash of protective indignation morphed Mom’s features. Still pissed off from when she’d heard about what Dylan’s parents had done—and attempted—she struggled to temper her reaction. I suspected it wouldn’t take much for her to give in to her desire to jump into her car and throw down with them.
Little got my mom as angry as someone messing with her boys.
“If I see that woman in the street—”
I cut her off before she spiraled into a tirade with a “Mom, it’s okay.” My own anger morphed whenever I thought about what happened, but I didn’t want to cling to such emotions. Not now when everything finally felt right in my heart.
“I know.” She shook her head, the smile she shot me a little tight.
Pushing the dishwasher door closed, I turned and leaned back against it. “Dyl and I aren’t worried. All we’re focusing on is being happy and making a life together.”
Mom’s gaze softened, emotion welling in her eyes. “I’m so happy you boys figured things out. You’re so wonderful together.”
Wholeheartedly, I agreed. Not that it wasn’t nice to hear that my folks felt the same way.
Had we come out and actually told them that our relationship had evolved and I loved Dylan as so much more than my best friend? That’d be a no. But I didn’t need to.
The first time we’d seen my parents when our relationship had developed, they’d known without explanation.
We’d just received extra-tight hugs when we’d left that first time, and while Mom had whispered a “I’m so happy for you both,” Dylan later told me Pop had told him, “It’s about damn time you boys pulled your heads out of your asses. ”
Apparently, it hadn’t just been Paula who’d seen what Dylan and I truly meant to each other.
“Daddy, I’s drew this for you.”
I startled at the sound of Mikey calling Dylan “Daddy” and smiled, looking at my boy. As soon as I did, my stomach tumbled. Air trapped in my throat as I all but fell to my knees, hand outstretched to take Mikey’s coloring.
Struggling to form words, I parted my lips and simply stared at my son.
“I use-ed lellow, like Eagles.”
Fuck. With my heart hammering and emotion close to welling over, I took the picture Mikey had drawn and colored with a shaky hand.
“You did this for me?” At my croaked question, Mikey bobbed his head.
“Yeah.”
Somehow managing to tear my eyes away from my sunshine boy, I peered at the picture through glassy eyes. An assortment of lines and circles and a mass of yellow and blue were scribbled across the page. Not having a clue what it was, I asked, “Do you want to tell me what you drew?”
Nodding eagerly, he moved forward, backing up so he was pressed against my chest. I knelt back so he sat on my thighs.
This kid…. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, ignoring the sting of happy tears trying to escape.
“It our famwy. That’s Dada, me, and you, Daddy.”
Unable to hold back, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged Mikey close, soaking up all the happiness he gifted me every damn day.
He giggled and wriggled, so I set about dropping kisses all over his head and face.
“Hey, why are you having all the fun without me?”
My attention snapped to Dylan, and his smile slipped as his concerned gaze roamed my face.
Sending him a watery smile, I slowly exhaled. “Mikey was just showing me the picture he drew of the three of us.”
“Yeah?” he asked, stepping fully into the kitchen and dropping down before me and Mikey. “Can I see?”
Completely in his element having an engaged audience, Mikey showed Dylan his picture. As he explained we were playing B-ball together, he said who was who. When he pointed out me, his daddy, Dylan’s breath caught.
For the barest of seconds, fear held me hostage. What if this was too much, a slap of reality in the face of—
“It’s the best thing you’ve ever drawn.”
Hearing the emotion in Dylan’s voice, I swallowed hard. When he leaned in, kissing Mikey on the forehead and me on the lips, a shaky breath wheezed out of me.
Apparently that was enough showcasing for one day, as Mikey wriggled free and dashed back to the rug. We followed his progress until a soft sniff caught my attention.
Tears spilled down Mom’s cheeks, and at her side, Pop looked a little choked.
Standing with Dylan, I held his hand. He nodded when we made eye contact, which was all the go-ahead I needed.
After checking Mikey remained occupied, I sat at the kitchen table, my eyes still damp as I faced Mom. Dylan stood behind me, hand on my shoulder.
“Mom, Pop, there’s something I need to tell you.”
A squeeze of encouragement from Dylan followed my words.
Mom, having wiped her few remaining tears, stared at me warily. At her side sat Pop, his expression open.
How the hell did I do this? Did I just blurt it out? Start at the very beginning?
I parted my lips, not quite sure what to say or where to start. Unlike me for sure, and from the growing looks of concern on my folks’ faces, they agreed. It was rare for me to be stumped.
“Cassius?” Mom encouraged.
Why was this a struggle? They adored Mikey.
I swallowed, knowing my concern rested in their reaction to me and what I’d done. Or rather the secret I’d held.
But if Dylan could forgive me—
“Cassius is Mikey’s biological father.”
Relief that Dylan had my back was a heady, wonderful thing.
Two pairs of blinking eyes stared my way.
Dad caught up first with a tilt of his head, saying, “Paula came to you, asked you to be Mikey’s dad.”
While it wasn’t a question, I needed to clarify. “Well, at the time I was just the donor, but now, yeah, I’m Mikey’s dad.” The difference was important. If Paula had survived, I would have stayed in my lane, somehow, someway. But she hadn’t.
Pop glanced over his shoulder, peering at his grandson. A twinge of guilt awoke in my gut. As if knowing my emotions were once again going crazy—the norm lately, it seemed—Dylan squeezed my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my head.
The support he gave was everything.
Pop focused on me again. “I always thought there was something, a resemblance, but I thought I was just being an old fool.”
When tears sprang in his eyes, I blinked back my own quickly. “Oh, Pop, I’m sorry.”
“I just thought it was because I’ve always thought of Mikey as ours, as our grandson.”
“That’s because he always has been. Blood or not,” Dylan said softly.
Aware Mom had yet to say anything, I shot her a wary glance, not sure what to expect. The tension around her eyes and the hard set of her jaw had not been it, though.
She was pissed, like super, steam-coming-out-of-her-ears pissed.
Shit.
I needed protection. A barricade.
“Mikey,” I called, not at all too proud to let my son block me from Mom’s wrath. “Can you come over here a second? Nana wants a big cuddle before we head home.”
Something close to a squeak left Dylan as I shot Mom a but-look-at-how-amazing-your-grandkid-is smile.
Dutifully, Mikey trotted over, holding on to a crayon and a piece of paper. Straight into his nana’s arms he went, where he scrambled onto her lap.
“Loves you, Nana.” He launched at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing.
If I hadn’t already set up a trust fund in his name, I would have opened one immediately. It was like we’d rehearsed just how to win his nana over while stopping his dad from getting his ass whooped.
Of course Mom hugged him back, but not before flipping me off.
Laughter burst out of me. Mom, in all my years, had never flipped me off, though I sure had deserved her middle finger directed my way more times than I could count.
“I love you, baby boy.”
My laughter died away at the sincerity in her tone, and when she closed her eyes and breathed him in, my heart swirled with fresh emotion.
“You’re so lucky having two daddies who love you so much,” Mom said to Mikey as she pulled away and looked him in the eye. “But shall I tell you a secret?”
From the twitch of Pop’s lips, I could only imagine the expression on Mikey’s face at the offer of a secret. If it was anything like his large, exaggerated head bobbing, he looked ridiculously cute.
“You know you have a dada and a daddy?”
Mikey nodded again, this time peering over his shoulder and looking us over with wide-eyed curiosity.
When he returned his attention to Mom, she said, “Well, did you know you have the exact same nose as your dada and the same smile as your daddy?”
Mikey lifted his hands and placed them on his face, and fuck if my heart didn’t melt.
“But your eyes, they’re just like your mommy’s.”
Dylan’s grip on my shoulder tightened. I reached up and held his hand.
“Dada tolded me that.”
Mom smiled. “He did?”
Mikey bobbed his head.
“But did your dada tell you about these freckles on your nose?”
Mikey shot an incredulous look at Dylan so fast and with such betrayal that it jolted a snort out of me.
“He didn’t, huh?” Mom continued, her lips settling into a soft smile. “Well, those freckles are special.”
“They is?”
“They sure are. If you look at Papa, he has the same ones on his nose.”
Jesus H. Christ. This was one way of Mom getting me back. There was nothing like kicking my ass by making me feel so damn much, all I wanted to do was cry.
Touching Pop’s face, Mikey studied his papa carefully. “I sees them.”
“You do, huh? And do you know what those freckles mean?”
Mikey shook his head. “No, Nana.”
Since Mom wore her heart on her sleeve, how she melted at Mikey’s words told me just how much she adored him.
“They’re because your papa has such a love for chocolate chip cookies and is so messy that all those crumbs got left behind. I suspect it means you’re a chocolate chip cookie monster. Am I right?” Tickling his belly until Mikey was breathless, Mom finished by planting a raspberry on his tummy.
“Papa, can you get that giant cookie from the pantry for Mikey? I think it’ll be the perfect treat for supper, just before bedtime.” Her gaze settled on me, a satisfied smirk on her face.
I huffed out a laugh. “Well played, Mom. Well played.”
If Mikey on a sugar high at bedtime was her form of punishment, I’d take it on the chin, and since Dylan chuckled, I figured he could cope with the penance too.