23. Jason
Mandi watches the door of the café and spins her wedding ring around and around on her finger.
I cover her hand with mine and give her a gentle squeeze. “Just breathe, Princess.”
I keep my tone calm and even, my posture sturdy, but intentionally relaxed. For her.
If she had any idea how hard I’m working to take my own fucking advice, she’d be a hundred times more nervous, but she takes her cues from me, and I’ll be sure to give her as much stability as I can.
After weeks of intentionally restrained communication, we’re finally going to meet our grown son.
Caleb.
He hasn’t trusted us with his last name yet, so I already know he’s fucking smart. It eases my mind some. As does the fact that Caleb was on our list of baby names — something we’d choose for our child — so his adoptive parents can’t be total assholes.
I’m curious about why he wants to leave them out of this historical moment. He reported his childhood was good, but he has been incredibly selective and minimalist in his messages, and I’m trying really hard not to fill all the blanks with any worst-case scenarios of him being raised by abusive jerks. There’s nothing I can do about it now. Not until I learn their fucking names.
I inhale deeply, spread my hand over Mandi’s belly, and let the gentle bump-bump of our baby’s movement soothe the vengeful beast inside me. I don’t want to scare anyone today. Best behavior.
The door opens, and a young man walks in.
Mandi and I stand.
I have never seen this stranger, but I know him. I know him with every cell I shared in his creation, and I know Mandi feels it too.
She grips my hand even more tightly, and glues herself to my arm, as the strapping boy looks our way and locks gazes first with me, and then with the woman who brought him into this world.
“He’s beautiful.”
I don’t know if Mandi meant to say it out loud, but I can’t disagree. “Yeah,” I whisper back, seeing so much of her in him. His dark hair and hazel eyes soften the sharper features he so clearly inherited from me. It’s like looking at the younger version of us both, if we somehow morphed into one person.
Caleb blushes and looks about awkwardly before stepping forward and clearing his throat. “I don’t know how to react to being called beautiful, but it looked weirdly like you both meant it, so I’m going to assume it’s a compliment and you’re not just fucking with me.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips, as I tilt my head toward Mandi. “I like him.”
“Me too,” she squeaks. “Is it too early to tell him I’ve always loved him?”
Caleb’s blush deepens, and I grin. “Never too early to tell a kid he was wanted, babe. But we should probably keep things cool. We don’t want to overwhelm him.” I thrust my hand forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Caleb. Thanks for taking a chance on us. This day has been a long time coming, and we’re very pleased for the opportunity.”
He shakes my hand, his grip nervous but firm. It’s taken him time to adjust to the idea of seeking the past, but he’s sure about this. He wants to know where he came from.
“Shall we sit?” I gesture to the spare seat at the table.
We do, and for a while, we all stare at each other. I don’t know about them, but I’m cataloging similarities, searching for the connections I know are there. He looks like a healthy, well-adjusted kid, but I’m desperate to hear it from him. I need to know he was loved.
“Do you mind if I ask about your childhood?” I ask, measuring my words.
“Were they kind to you?” Mandi blurts out. “The people who raised you? Are you happy? Please tell me you’re happy.” She winces, and then presses her face to my bicep, as if she’s too scared to look.
I kiss her head. “Way to play it cool, Princess.” I meet the gaze of the young man across the table.
He quickly glances at Mandi and swallows hard before returning his attention to me when I clear my throat.
“To clarify, with a more restrained level of interest,” I promise, “we hope you were kept safe and have been well cared for. Mandi has worried about you every single day of your life, but she was powerless to do anything about it, and she has a lot of very big feelings.” I look at her and kiss her again. “Valid feelings,” I assure her.
Caleb looks from me to her, as she stands on her own and straightens her clothes..
“Sorry.” She lifts her chin and meets his concerned expression with an apologetic smile. “The last thing I want to do is scare you. I’m going to count to three before I say more. Okay?” She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before shaking her head and rubbing her belly.
Caleb watches her, and I watch him.
“When are you due?” he asks.
“Next month,” she says softly. “Another boy.” Her tone is almost dreamy, and from the color filling Caleb’s cheeks, she’s looking at him with a lot of love.
He almost smiles, and then reins it in. “You have other children?”
“We would have liked to,” she says, shifting in her seat. “We were separated before you were born, and only recently found our way back to each other.”
He frowns. “What happened?”
“Nothing good,” I say, when I turn to see Mandi’s eyes welling with tears. “Which is why we’re so concerned about your welfare and happiness,” I add before pressing my head to Mandi’s and whispering in her ear, “It’s all going to be okay, Princess.”
Caleb stares at us a long while, and I squeeze Mandi’s hand under the table, as I pray for patience while he processes what we’ve said.
“I’m happy,” he says eventually. “My parents are good people.”
Mandi and I melt into each other.
“Oh, thank God,” she says in a rush, and I rumble my agreement, relieved I don’t have to hurt anybody when I’ve only recently finished delivering retribution to the list of known assholes who’ve wronged my family. My appetite for beating people bloody has dwindled, and with the baby coming soon, that seemed like a good thing. A welcome new chapter of peace.
“We’re incredibly pleased to hear that,” I tell Caleb, as I raise my hand to capture the attention of the waiter. “When you insisted on keeping your parents out of any arrangements we made, we wondered if maybe there was something untoward, responsible for your choice.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I just didn’t want to hurt their feelings.” He quiets, and the waiter earns himself a hefty tip by sensing the awkward vibe and being quick to hand me the menus and leave.
“They told me I was adopted, when I was twelve,” Caleb continues, once we’re alone again. “It was a whole big thing to adjust to, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ve been curious about my biological parents since, but I didn’t want Mom and Dad to feel like I was ungrateful for the love they gave me, so I waited until I could explore things on my terms and make up my own mind about who I was and how everything came to be.”
Mandi’s eyes grow twice as big and seem about a billion times more in love with the kid. “That’s very thoughtful and sweet,” she says, squeezing my hand under the table. “And brave,” she adds, before she narrows her gaze at our son. “You paint?” She points to the cuff of his shirt when he seems surprised.
He frowns and rubs at the small yellow smear. “Twice as glad Mom’s not here now,” he says with a snort when he finds a streak of green further down his sleeve. “She’d be giving me shit about not wearing a clean shirt. Guess I won’t be giving you guys the impression I’ve got myself together and don’t need your approval for how I turned out.”
“You don’t need our approval,” I say. “But you have it.” I slide up Mandi’s long sleeves, to reveal the paint streaks on her arms. “And you’re in good company. This one was in her studio right up until it was time to get in the truck and come here. She was anxious as fuck, and creating is her happy place.”
Caleb swallows visibly and looks from Mandi to me. “What about you? What’s your thing?”
“Whatever I put my mind to,” I reply with a shrug. “Details. Patterns. Sports. Puzzles. Anything strategic that requires precision. Bonus points if there’s a physical element to it. I was raised outdoors, and I like to work hard. I value justice and protecting the vulnerable, but my highest priority has always been my family.” I pull Mandi’s seat even closer. “If I’d known you were part of that sooner, this discussion would have happened much earlier. It’s been a long and strange journey, but we’re happy to tell you the story over lunch, if you’d like to know more?”
I offer him a menu, and my heart fucking sings when he takes it.
“I’m good at sports, too.” He smiles. “I’m majoring in fine arts, but I’m doing it on an athletic scholarship.”
I lean back in my seat with a grin. “You don’t say.”