Author: S.E. Law
Category: Young Adult
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/5033_18
I buckle myself into the low-slung seat while Patrick revs the engine. Then he turns to me, his face still darkened with rage.
“Where is he?” he growls. “Where is my son? I want to meet him.”
The words leave my lips before I can even stop to think.
“He’s at my father’s house,” I say. “341 Maple Lane, over on the West side. We live there, both of us, with my dad. He’s safe. He’s sleeping because it’s late.”
But Patrick doesn’t even wait for me to finish my sentence. He’s already programmed the GPS and with squealing tires, we exit the garage and pull out onto the street. His foot is on the accelerator and within ten minutes, we’re pulling up before the darkened house where my baby lives.
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
“Please,” I say. “Calm down a bit. You can come in and look at Georgie, but like I mentioned before, he’s asleep right now. Ten p.m. is late for a baby, and he likely went to sleep at seven. Plus, I don’t want you to scare him if he does wake up. The way you’re spouting fire and brimstone right now isn’t going to work, Patrick. Please calm down.”
To my surprise, the handsome man seems to hear my words and his fingers relax their death grip on the wheel before he turns to stare at me.
“You. Had. My. Son,” he accuses.
“I did,” I acknowledge in what I hope is a calm tone. “But now is not the time to lose it. We have to keep it together for Georgie, in case he wakes up. Promise me you’ll stay calm.”
To my surprise, Patrick’s fingers are shaking on the steering wheel. His blue eyes are intense, and he’s breathing hard and fast. There’s clearly something in this man driving him forward, and I can only guess what it is.
“A son,” he says in a raspy whisper while staring blindly ahead. “I have a child.”
“You do,” I affirm in a soft voice. “Now come inside. Let’s go up quietly, and I’ll introduce you to Georgie.”
With that, we exit the car, as I lead this man to the darkened front door where my fate awaits.
12
Patrick
As we pad up the stairs to Georgie’s nursery, I can hardly breathe. I have a son! A real, live child, who is my flesh and blood. Anticipation races through my veins even as my heart thrums. What will he be like? Will he look like me, or like Penny?
The curvy girl stops before a closed door and turns to raise a finger to her lips in a shhh! sign. For the first time tonight, a soft smile caresses her lips as she opens the door without a sound.
We step inside, and I see the baby immediately. He’s sleeping on his stomach in the crib, with the soft glow of a baby lamp casting him in shadow. Georgie’s chubby features are relaxed in sleep, and his small fists are loosened as he breathes peacefully. My heart contracts once and then judders tremulously. Love spills through my veins as tears come to my eyes.
Penny smiles at me through her own tears.
“We don’t want to wake him, but do you want to stroke his back gently? Like this,” she demonstrates.
Slowly, I lower a large hand to rest it gently against Georgie’s back. He’s so soft and so small that my hand almost covers his entire back through the blue onesie. Gently, I rub the baby’s back and he sighs softly in his sleep. My heart expands once more, filled with love for this boy who is mine.
But there’s still the issue of his mother. What the hell? Penny had Georgie months ago, and she didn’t think to tell me? All these questions pound through my head as we slowly leave the room before shutting the door and going back downstairs.
Before I can get a word out, the curvy girl turns to me.
“If you’re going to yell, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she says in a firm tone. “My father is sleeping, and I don’t want to wake the baby.”
I take a deep breath. In fact, I do want to yell. I want to scream my frustration, as well as my incredible love for this woman, to the heavens. But I also want to keep it together for my son while finding a path forward for us, so I nod silently.
“I won’t yell. Talking is fine.”
She stares at me, as if considering my pledge, and then nods, as if satisfied.
“Let’s talk in the kitchen,” she says while stepping to the right and flicking on the light in the next room. The kitchen flashes to life and it’s homey, with cheery yellow flowers on the wallpaper, brown cabinets, and an old wood dining table in the middle. Penny sits there, and I slowly lower myself into the chair across from her.