My son is already happily throwing things out of the toy box Mum keeps in her living room specifically for him. She watches on, balanced on the steps between her kitchen and sunken living room, smiling.
“It’s no problem at all. He’s a blessing, and as much time as I can have with him, I’ll take it.”
Trying to distract myself from the awkward question at hand, I begin pulling out Mason’s snacks and sticking them in her refrigerator.
“Mum, if Louis asks, would you tell him I stayed the whole visit?” I hope my voice comes off as nonchalant, but it sounds too high in my ears.
I see her bristle as she turns to me. “I can do that.”
Typical Mum, keeping a straight face and agreeing to whatever it is I need, but not without an air of curiosity smothering me. It’s that type of mother’s intuition, with a side of guilt, that makes children want to spill even their worst of offenses without being prodded.
“It’s just … I told him I was having lunch with you. And I don’t want him to realize I didn’t.”
She nods, her face impassive. “I understand. I can tell him that if he does ask me.”
Jesus, my heart is racing. I can’t help blurting it from my mouth, although I attempt to keep my voice down if this is the one time in a thousand that Mason actually decides to listen to Mummy.
“I just have a lot of things I need to think about and need some time alone.” Lest she thinks I’m having an affair or going to buy out the bar by myself.
“I’ve had those days.” Her answer is still just as measured, just as un-seeking.
I throw my hands up. “All right, because you have to know, I’m not sure if I should marry Louis, and I need some good hard time to process that.”
Mason is busy dumping LEGOs onto the carpet and then tossing them around, so they make a clanking sound that he giggles at. Mum swivels her head back his way, making sure he’s okay, and then walks to where I stand at the counter.
“I knew your father wasn’t the one when I married him,” she says bluntly.
It’s the last thing in the world I expected to come from her mouth, and my jaw drops in shock. “Wha … What?”
She shrugs, as if I’ve asked for this explanation of her pre-marriage psyche for nothing more than a good story.
“When we first started dating, it was that honeymoon stage of being in a new relationship. We overlooked the underlying flaws because it was lustful and exciting. In those days, when you were with a person for the amount of time we’d been dating, you took the next logical step. He proposed, and I accepted because it was what I was supposed to do. I planned a wedding, just like a proper woman is expected to. I went along with the charade of committed love because I had paired off, and wasn’t that a relief in this harsh world we’re born into? But I knew, deep down. In the months leading up to the wedding, I knew in my heart that it wasn’t right. That although your father was a good man, one who would care for me and do right by me, I wasn’t in love with him. It felt safer, easier to become his wife. But he wasn’t the one. Sometimes I curse myself for not holding out for whoever the universe had planned for me. Perhaps I missed him when I decided to walk down the aisle to your father. The moment the priest declared us husband and wife, I remember thinking, ‘Is this it?’ I would never want you to feel that way, Lara.”
Leave it to Mum not to lend advice, but tell some sage story about the lesson she was really trying to impart on you. I wish she’d just come out definitively and tell me what to do, but that’s a coward’s way out on my part and we both know it.
“It’s him, though, isn’t it? Mason’s father?” Mum asks the question we both know the answer to.
I nod because there is nothing else to say.
14
Vance
“Mate, you’re coming up to London soon?”
Kingston asks as we perform the ultimate male hug of coming close and clapping each other on the back but not quite being sappy or emotional at all. It was like blokes could hug, but it still had to have a manly air about it.
“I’ll be there for the match against Loyale. We don’t have an academy match that weekend, and I’ll be back from leave,” I assure him.
“Who knows, maybe Niles will call you up as a backup for Remus.” Jude tries to raise my spirits.
My eyes must convey the sarcasm jumping into my voice. “Right, and pigs are going to fly, as well.”
We’re standing in the driveway of my parent’s home, their bags already stowed in Jude’s boot. It’s been a great two days with them, even if most of it I spent sulking. They’re my best mates, they’re used to my funks and moods. After the disaster at the pub, we drove home and drowned in video games for hours. Way too much FIFA, scotch, and ridiculous topics of conversation were had, but it reminded me of our academy days and that brought a certain comfort to my soul.
For a very long time, it had been the three of us. We’d done nothing and everything, but Jude and Kingston had been such a constant in my life that I miss those days now that they’re gone. We’re in different places, both location wise and in a life sense. They both have weddings to plan and women to keep happy. Jude has his clothing line, and Kingston is busy supporting Poppy in her nonprofit work. I still keep in touch, but it’s getting more difficult.
Especially with the circus that is my life.
I can’t believe I kissed Lara. I hadn’t meant to do it, truly. I’m aware how it cocks everything up, even more than it already is. And now, she’s livid. She stormed out of that pub, her friend following her wide-eyed. I could barely get her to respond to me, and I only have five days left.
My bloody cock and his fucking urges. Yes, I am blaming this on him.
“She’ll come around, Vance.” Jude rouses me from my thoughts.
I must have zoned out. “I’m not sure about that. Pigs may need to fly on that account, too.”
“Remember how much I cocked up with Poppy? And she still wants to marry me,” Kingston points out.
“I was in the same boat with Aria, too.” Jude nods in agreement.
My hands motion for them to see reason. “Mates, you’re my closest friends, but don’t pretend this is anything like those situations. If I don’t play this right, I lose my child.”
They exchange a solemn look, and Jude claps me on the shoulder. “It will all work out. It has too. You’re Vance Morley, you’re the best of us. If the universe allowed us to get our birds, there is no way it’s going to deny you a happy ending.”
I hug them both one more time, just because I can without feeling like a sap, and then they get in Jude’s car and drive away.
And I’m left in Brighton, alone in my head once more.
Wandering back into the house, I figure I’ll rustle up some lunch and then really put a plan in motion for approaching Lara again. The clock is ticking, and my luck is about to run out. I texted her yesterday asking if she and Mason would like to come by the house, but she hasn’t responded.
My parent’s home is all glass and steel, a modern rock overlooking the sea. It’s not what I would have chosen, but when they were touring houses, my Mum got set on it and I wasn’t going to say no. They deserved this, and I wasn’t the one who had to live here full time.
“Are those daft goons gone?” Harlow says as I walk into the kitchen.
I chuckle. “Yes, they’re gone. Tired of the noise?”
My sister shakes her head. “I swear, Kingston’s favorite sound in the world is his own voice. I don’t know how Poppy puts up with him.”
“Love is a mysterious thing. Hey, can you make me a sandwich?” I’m used to people waiting on me.
Being home has been freeing in a sense, but losing the component of my life where everything is just at my fingertips is a weird change.
“Bugger off!” She snorts.
“It was worth a try.” I begin pulling items out of the refrigerator to make myself lunch.
“So, what are you planning on doing for the rest of your l
eave?” Harlow asks.
Just in case Lara does accept my invitation for Mason to come play at the house, I’m going to need her to make herself scarce. But if she has to know, which I won’t divulge, my mission for the rest of the week is to insert myself in my son’s life.
“Some things here, some things there. When do you go back to uni?”
It has to be soon, maybe even before my Mum and Dad get back. They had a holiday scheduled before Harlow and I decided to come home, and we both told them not to cancel it. It worked in my favor, since I’ll be able to give Lara and Mason some privacy in our home while also discussing next steps.
I just hope she shows tomorrow.
“Day after next. It was a splendid break home, though.”
“When Mum and Dad get home, will you let me know? I have something I need to speak with them about.”
Maybe I could schedule her a massage at the spa down by the pier …
“What, that you have a son they don’t know about?”
I almost choke on my own lungs, that’s how much Harlow stuns me in the moment. I have to bend over, clapping myself on the chest as I struggle to breathe.
“What did you just say?” I think I may need to clean my ears out.
Harlow spoons a bit of yogurt into her mouth, as if we’re talking about the weather, and shrugs. “I didn’t realize we were still pretending that Lara Logan’s son isn’t yours, too. That is why you’re in town, isn’t it?”
I can’t even come up with a coherent thought. “Wha …”
“Get a grip, Vance. Anyone in this town who doesn’t realize you’re that boy’s father is a daft, blind git. I knew it the first time I saw him, he’s the spitting image of you.”
“Why … Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I sputter, still trying to regain my composure.
She leans against the counter and shrugs. “I guess because I thought you’d come to me when you wanted to discuss it.”
“I didn’t know.” My voice grows quiet.
“What?” Now it’s Harlow’s turn to sound blindsided. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”
“She never told me. I only saw him just mere weeks ago, when I was home on holiday. I had no idea he even existed until recently. Or else … yes, I suppose I would have come to you.”
Harlow sets down her yogurt, her empty hands flexing and opening as if she can’t help it.
“And here, I didn’t like the girl when you were sneaking around with her to begin with. I’m going to give her a piece of my mind, that—”
My hand comes up in a harsh motion. “Don’t finish that sentence. There is a lot you don’t know. Apparently, though, my time with Lara isn’t one of them. How did you know?”
“Vance, I’m a woman. One who lived in your house when you were around and can see past this rhino hide you wear like skin. I’m not an idiot, but everyone else seems to be. You were madly in love with that girl from the day her family moved in across the street.”
I shrug, because she’s right. “Yes, that sums it up. Everything that’s happened from that point though, it’s a disaster.”
“He looks exactly like you,” Harlow murmurs.
How no one has guessed that Mason is my son before my sister is actually rather incredible. He is my carbon copy, and in this town, it’s not a secret what I look like. Even as a bloke who grew up here, I still get people asking me for autographs on the street.
“I know he does. It … it’s killing me inside not to see him every day. Since the moment I saw him, I’ve just … there is this inexplicable yearning to be close to him. To wake him up every morning and put him down to bed every night. Is that mental? I didn’t know three months ago that I was a father, and now that I do, I want to be the best parent anyone has ever been.”
“Well, you’re an overachiever with a perfectionist complex, so that’s not surprising. But no, it’s not mental. I’ve wanted to go up to her so many times when I see them in town, but I didn’t know if you had an agreement. Mum and Dad don’t even know they have a grandson.”
My head falls into my hands, and I rake them through my hair. “I know that, too. It’s why I’m going to tell them when they get home. At least I don’t have to tell you, too.”
“What are you going to do, Vance?” She says it so quietly, as if it isn’t the questioning I’ve been asking myself since the moment I walked out of that wine shop.
My answer has always been the same in terms of going after things I want.
“Whatever I have to.”
15
Lara
When I pull into the driveway of the house Mason’s parents now live in, my jaw almost drops to the floor of my previously owned, but decently tidy, average car.
This was a long way from Willingham Street, the neighborhood Vance and I had grown up in.
Don’t get me wrong, Brighton is a wonderful place to grow up as a child. Neither of our families was below the poverty line, we had new clothes each school year and presents under the Christmas tree.
But this brand of financial wealth? No, this is not the way the Morley’s used to live.
I’ve never actually driven through their neighborhood, though I live fifteen minutes from it; some irrational paranoia inside me assumed they’d be standing at the end of the driveway if I ever tried, ready to snatch my son away.
The home is gated at the front, as if the Queen lives here, and once I ring a bell at the entrance, they swing open to reveal the reflective enormity of his parent’s place. The sides of the home are sharp angles of glass, no brick or shingles here. It looks like one of those modern majesties you see in a design magazine, as if an artist had constructed it. It’s not my taste, but it is beautiful in its own way.
“Look who’s here!”
Vance has put on his “talking to a child voice,” and it’s kind of melting my ovaries. He walks out to my car, where I’ve parked in the driveway, and opens the back door.
Mason makes a gleeful sound, and before I can instruct Vance on how to get him out of the car seat, he’s pulling the little boy from the back and into his arms.
“I hear you want to go find fish in the ocean.”
“It’s twenty degrees, Vance,” I scold him, pulling Mason’s nappy bag from the car.
“We can put our coats on. Come on, Mummy,” he goads Mason, completely ignoring the fact that we had a blow-up at each other just days ago.
“Come on, Mummy!” Mason echoes his biological father.
The two of them, standing there in cahoots, makes me break. A smile involuntarily graces my lips, and I roll my eyes.
“Fine, but only if you wear mittens and a cap, too.” I sigh, relenting.
They dash into the house, and I’m left to walk in by myself, gasping at the ridiculous amount of rooms and lush furnishing in his parent’s house. When he asked me to come today, I honestly didn’t know if I’d bring Mason. I thought about coming alone, reprimanding him for kissing me and setting down strict guidelines. But then Vance asked for some pictures of Mason to save on his phone, and I realized what an arse I was being. He just wants to see his son, and the one thing I’ve kept from him for so long … it’s the least I could give him.
Watching his face light up as Mason’s little voice prattles on and on about his childhood nonsense, there is nothing like it. I used to get joy out of watching Louis with my son, but it was a muted glee. Because deep down, I knew he wasn’t his father.
Watching Vance interact with the little boy we brought into the world is every fantasy I’ve dreamed come to life.
I drove around Brighton yesterday afternoon after I left Mason at Mum’s. To no one’s surprise, least of all my own, I ended up on the beach. The one Vance had found me on all those Christmas’s ago.
I sat there, staring at the sea, willing it to give me an answer. Should I stay with him, should I go? Do I tell him about the kiss, or scrub it from my own memory? How do I handle Vance wanting to come into our son’s life, into my life?
Instead, I created the nightmare I am living in. It’s not as if Vance is the only guilty party in that kiss. Bloody hell, it’s burned into my brain, how spectacular that fleeting moment had been. To feel his lips on mine again, to experience the pure magic of our connection …
I didn’t realize how long I’ve been waiting to have that again. Now that I have, I’m not sure I can go back to a life starved of it.
If Mum had told me to stay with Louis, instead of feeding me her wise metaphorical story, I probably wouldn’t even be here. I would have put this out of my brain, told Vance I couldn’t do this and somehow convince him to leave us in our sheltered, but content bubble. But she didn’t. So now, I stand in his family’s home, watching as he pretends to make elephant noises for our son, and I know my heart will never be the same.
Mum has never pressed the issue of Mason’s parentage. Perhaps because the first and only two times she tried to tackle the subject, I snapped at her. The first was when I had just revealed my pregnancy to her, and she sobbed and asked who had done it to me. It was the most irrational and emotional I’ve ever seen her.
The second, and final, time she asked was when Mason was about a month old, and he so vividly resembled Vance it hurt me to look at him some days. Something inside me thinks she knows who his father is, since my son is the picture of the boy across the street.
Maybe she knows, and would rather me follow the thorny, dangerous path. The one filled with obstacles and no promises. But if I could make it to the end of the tightrope walk, I would be blissfully, unequivocally happy.
The Mighty Anchor: Rogue Academy, Book Three Page 8