She attempts to stifle a giggle.
Surreal moment number 497.
“No. I made that up,” she admits sheepishly, “and they aren’t here, anyway. My grandparents have gone to their cabin in Aspen until Tuesday.” She nibbles on her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Kal. More than you can realize,” she whispers. Her words bounce off me, falling meaninglessly to the floor.
Sorry is far too easy a word for her to say. Sorry cannot even begin to compensate for how she’s treated me this time.
My eyes narrow at her, as anger competes with trepidation for prime position. Her hand stalls on the door handle. “This is his room. You need to be super quiet so you don’t wake him. He had a difficult time last night, and he needs to catch up on his sleep.”
I nod curtly. Does she think I’m an imbecile?
Her hand goes to my elbow, and I jerk away without conscious thought. Hurt flares in her eyes. “We have a lot to talk about. Can you stick around for a while so I can explain? Please.”
I jerk my head in agreement. As if I have any intention of leaving without some answers.
As she opens the door slowly and carefully, time seems to stand still. Blood rushes to my head, making me lightheaded. I quietly crack my knuckles as I step into the room. The room is large with a vaulted ceiling and two wide windows, curtained with heavy ornate drapes. A small glow emits from the tableside lamp in the corner of the room. My eyes hone in on the wooden crib in the middle of the room. I stop breathing as I detect the little bundle atop the mattress. A single cot, with an unmade comforter, is pulled alongside the crib. Lana must have been sleeping in here beside him. I watch her for a moment, bent over the crib, staring at our son with a look of joy and adoration on her face. My spout of anger splutters and dies as I watch her watching the baby with unbridled love and pride, not even realizing I’ve stopped moving. I’m rooted to the spot again, drenched in emotion. My heart does a funny jump.
She lifts her head, smiling expansively, waving me forward.
My sneakers don’t make a sound on the plush carpet as I take another step. Then another. With every inch I move, my heart swells in my chest. My breath is oozing out in exaggerated, heavy spurts. She meets me halfway, taking my hand confidently in hers and urging me forward. I cling to her arm, more terrified and elated than I’ve ever been in my life.
And then I see him.
This small, perfectly formed little human.
This little part of me and Lana.
He’s lying on his side, with his thumb in his mouth. I clamp a hand over my mouth as the most powerful burst of emotion hits me full on. My hand shakes as I look over my son for the first time. A light sheen of sweat dots his brow. His hair is thick and dark like mine. Tiny curls adhere to his sticky brow. His little chest rises and falls, his feet tangled in a white blanket. A serene sort of reverence washes over me as I stare at him in amazement.
Naked emotion brims in my chest, and I can’t stop the tears from flowing. I’m clinging to Lana’s side like I’ll fall over without her. I feel her eyes on me, but I can’t tear my gaze from our son.
I don’t know how long we stand there, holding each other and staring at our baby boy. Silent tears continue to glide down my face, and when I glance at Lana, I notice she’s crying too. There is a lot still to be said. A crap ton of explanation necessary, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Lana now, but, in this moment, all I want is to hug the shit out of her.
So, I do.
I reel her into my arms, hugging her tightly as I continue to gaze, awestruck, at my son asleep in his crib. “He’s perfect,” I whisper.
She nods, smiling through her tears. “He is, Kal. He really is.”
After a while, she eases back, looking up at me with sad determination. “We should talk,” she mouths.
I nod, watching as she bends over the crib, planting a delicate kiss on his brow. She looks inquisitively at me, and I step beside her, blood thrumming wildly through my veins. I lean in slowly, memorizing every second. My lips press gently against his brow, and his skin is warm but so soft under my touch. His breath trickles out of his mouth, and a delicate, fresh, clean fragrance lingers over him. I hover over his face for a minute, enchanted by the smell and feel of him.
Lana curls her fingers around my arm, and we tiptoe out of the room like thieves in the night. I startle in the corridor when I spy Greta waiting for us. She nods before walking away.
We follow her into a large, formal living space. Greta sits down on a stiff-looking couch in front of an open marble fireplace. I sit down on the couch across from her, and Lana perches on the edge beside me. “Hello, Kalvin.”
“Hello, Mrs. Taylor.” When she worked for my parents, we used to call her Greta, but things are different now.
“I only have a few things to say, and then I’ll leave you and Lana to talk in private.” She folds her hands primly on her lap. “You should know Lana wanted to tell you when she first found out she was pregnant. John and I are responsible for the fact she didn’t. We see now that it was wrong, but we thought it was the best way of protecting her after everything that’d happened.”
My jaw locks tight, but I borrow from my brother’s repertoire, schooling my features into a neutral line. “I can’t pretend to imagine what you must be feeling, and I’m sure this has come as a huge shock, but all I ask is that you treat my daughter with the respect she deserves. She has done a wonderful job with that little boy, but there is no need for her to do that alone anymore. Whether you two are together or not isn’t a factor. You are both his parents, and, as such, the responsibility should be shared. All we ask is that you do right by Lana and Hewson.”
I nod in agreement, because I don’t trust myself to speak. She can’t expect me to have any clue what to do when I’ve just been hit with this news, but I don’t want to waste time arguing with Greta.
I need answers from Lana.
“Okay.” She rises, moving over to Lana and pulling her into a gentle hug. “I’m going to bed, but wake me up if you need anything.”
“It’s okay, Mom. You get some sleep.” She points to a small white unit on the coffee table. “I have the baby monitor, and I’ll watch Hewson. I want to feed him his bottle tonight.” She kisses her on the cheek.
“Goodnight, Kalvin.” She gives me a small smile before exiting the room.
Lana moves to the couch her mom just vacated, sitting down across from me. She clears her throat. “I’m sorry you found out like this, but, I swear I was going to tell you. I tried a few times, but I kept chickening out.”
“You should’ve told me the minute we met on campus.” I lean forward, placing my palms on my knees. “That’s why you ran, isn’t it?” She nods. “If I hadn’t shown up here, were you ever going to tell me?”
“Yes.” She holds my eyes, and I see the stark truth in her gaze. “What Mom said is true. I wanted to tell you when I discovered I was pregnant, but they convinced me not to. I thought it was better to let you get on with rebuilding your life, and, in a few years, after you’d gotten things back on track, I would tell you.”
I snort out a laugh. “That is fucking priceless! How could you ever think that was fair?”
“I wasn’t in a good place, Kal.” She’s gone very quiet. “I’m not offering excuses because I know it’s unforgivable, but I was very depressed after the trial. I couldn’t eat or sleep, and I was existing in a haze. Like I was surrounded by constant fog, and I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think clearly. I’m not proud I allowed myself to be convinced of something I knew was wrong for a second time, but I wasn’t myself. Plus, I was feeling sick all the time. I didn’t realize it was because I was pregnant until a few weeks before Christmas.”
There’s an uncanny sense of déjà vu in her sentiment.
Secrets and lies. That’s the sum of what we’ve become.
“You expect m
e to believe you were pregnant during the trial but you didn’t know it?” How can you not know you’re pregnant? It sounds a bit fishy to me.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you, but I’m not lying. I hadn’t had periods for a couple of months, but I was distraught and stressed, and I presumed that was the reason. It never even crossed my mind that I could be pregnant until I was in a pharmacy picking up some meds for Mom and I happened across a pregnancy test. Something just snapped into place, and I knew. Knew I was pregnant. I bought two tests and went to the bathroom at the back of the store and confirmed it.”
The magnitude of that moment hits me, and, although I’m still all kinds of messed up, I can’t help feeling sorry for Lana. I hate that I was denied that experience with her. “I should’ve been there with you.”
Her foot taps restlessly off the carpeted floor, and she worries her lip between her teeth. “What would you have done if I’d told you back then?”
I lean back, sighing as I stare at the ceiling. “I’m not sure,” I admit truthfully, “but I wouldn’t have left you to deal with it alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. Mom and Dad were great.”
“I should have been the one supporting you,” I snap. “Supporting our baby.” My voice cracks, and I’m starting to lose control of my emotions. I’m all over the place. Feeling hurt and angry one minute, happy and awed the next, sad and aggrieved after that. My head hurts, and I don’t know how to fully express all that I’m feeling, or if I even should. “I hate that you went through that alone, but you didn’t even give me a say. I know things were broken between us, but how could you do that to me, Lana? How could you deny me that knowledge?”
“I wish I could take it all back. I do.”
“But you can’t, and I’m the one who’s missed out on …” My head whips up. “How old is he?”
She gulps. “He’ll be six months in a few weeks.”
Air whooshes out of my mouth, and I rest my head in my hands.
I can’t. I just can’t.
I lift my head, and tears sting my eyes. “I will never get that time back. How could you do that, Lana? The girl I knew would never have done that to me.”
Her lower lip wobbles, and tears pool in her eyes, but she doesn’t cry. She keeps it together. “I know,” she whispers, and her face falls. “I’m not the same girl.”
My eyes skim over her face, seeing so much of the Lana I knew, but she’s right. She’s changed. So have I. “And I’m not the same guy you knew.” Truth.
“Where do we go from here?” Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and she fidgets with her hands in her lap. “I mean, what about us?”
I just stare at her, numb, as if in a daze. A heavy tension settles in the room. “I don’t know how or what I’m feeling now,” I admit. “All I wanted was honesty, Lana. Was that too much to ask for?”
A high-pitched cry erupts from the digital monitor on the table. The video screen is a little blurry, but the baby is clearly awake, his lungs in full working order, as the crying intensifies. Lana jumps up, glancing at her watch. “His routine is shot to pieces, so he’s probably looking for a bottle now.” Her pace is brisk as she strides toward the door. She casts a look over her shoulder. “You could give him his bottle, if you like?”
My Adam’s apple bobs in my throat, and my mouth turns dry. I nod slowly, without conscious thought. Her answering smile is luminous as she hurries out the door. I’m in a kind of daze as I watch her arrive in the room through the monitor. She lifts the baby up, cradling him to her chest and murmuring soothing words as she gently rocks him in her arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
A massive lump clogs my throat, constricting my airways. A layer of sweat breaks across my brow.
“Daddy’s here, and he’s going to give you your bottle,” she coos.
An icy-cold shiver creeps up my spine and bile fills my mouth.
I start frantically pacing the floor.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
I can’t do this.
How can I take care of a baby when I can barely take care of myself?
This was a mistake.
I shouldn’t have come here yet.
I’m not equipped to deal with this.
Lana thinks I can slot into some role, a role she denied me for six months, and that everything will be sunshine and rainbows.
Well, it’s not.
It’s completely messed up.
Panic is doing a number on me, and I can’t think straight. My heart is beating so fast in my chest, and my shirt is stuck to my back.
I need to get out of here.
I race out of the room, run down the stairs, and fly out the front door.
I clamber into my truck, quickly putting it in gear. Without looking back, I take off, desperate to put as much space between me and this house as possible.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lana
My heart sinks when I return to the room and there’s no sign of Kal. Without checking, I know he’s left. I position Hewson in my arms and give him his bottle with tears rolling down my face.
I knew it had been going too well.
Maybe, I pushed too hard.
It’s an awful lot to take in. I had months to get used to the idea; he’s had less than one day. My tears dry up. He just needs some time to get used to the idea. To process all his feelings.
I trust him to do the right thing.
I can be patient.
We can be patient.
I don’t tell Mom how Kal disappeared last night because I don’t want her scowling at me in an “I told you so way.” I tell her we have lots to work through but so far so good.
What’s one more lie in a sea of lies, right?
Hewson is vastly improved on Monday. He isn’t back to his usual self, but he’s catching up on his sleep, and his temp has come down plus he’s taken all his bottles today. I hate the thought of leaving him, and although I don’t like skipping my shift in the center, my son is my priority, so I decide to stay another night. I’ll catch the first bus to UF in the morning so I don’t miss classes again.
I press a soft kiss to his brow as I tiptoe out of the room at the butt crack of dawn on Tuesday morning. I’m crying again. It feels like I’m always crying these days, but I vow that’s going to be a thing of the past.
I need to be strong.
For Hewson.
For Kal.
For me.
I fill Liv in on everything after classes on Tuesday, and she listens intently, never once interrupting or telling me she knew this would happen. “What are you planning to do?”
“Give him some space. Let him work through it in his own time.” Even though it kills me, because now he’s become a fixture in my life again, I’m missing him terribly. But I can’t be selfish. And I can’t rush him. “I trust Kal,” I tell her truthfully. “He’ll make the right decision.”
The week and weekend comes and goes without a peep from Kal, and I’m beginning to doubt myself. I thought he would at least have checked in on Hewson by now, but I haven’t heard from him or seen him around. The early morning coffees and end of day rides are a thing of the past. With every passing day, my hopes dwindle and my fears grow.
I head to the center on Monday night with a heavy heart. Brenda puts me straight to work, and I’m grateful for the preoccupation. A couple of hours into my shift, she asks me to sit with a new client while she waits for her first appointment.
The girl waiting on the couch looks deeply troubled. Turning haunted blue eyes on me, she frowns a little. Her stringy red hair has pronounced bangs that have been bluntly cut, and they don’t do much for her. She’s wearing a loose-fitting dirty gray shirt and black pants. A pang of sorrow assaults me. What was done to this girl, and is it something she can come back
from?
“Hi. I’m Lana. Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?”
She looks up at me, and her expression turns to one of confusion. “Do I know you?”
Prickles of alarm wash over me. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
She brushes it aside, shaking her head, and my shoulders relax. “A black coffee would be great.”
“Coming right up.” I smile and leave to fix her drink.
When I return, she is sitting stiffly on the couch, her eyes boring into mine as I approach. My smile falters as I hand her the steaming hot coffee. “Is everything okay?”
“You’re her, aren’t you?” she says, standing up. “You’re that Lana bitch from the Kennedy trial.”
I’m not hiding anymore. Keeping secrets and telling lies has brought me nothing but pain. I stand tall. “Yes, I’m that Lana.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here!”
“I volunteer here because I want to help.”
“Don’t you think you’ve helped enough?!” she spits, her tone turning nastier by the second.
“I’m sorry. I don’t wish to offend you or cause you any further pain.” I take a step back. “I’ll leave. I’ll get Brenda to come and sit with you.”
“Yeah, just run away,” she sneers. “Run away and leave a mess in your wake. You’re good at that.”
I take the hit directly to my heart. Her aim couldn’t have been better. “I’m sorry.” I’m beginning to hate those two words, and I’m sick of hearing them come out of my mouth. I hate that my actions have necessitated their frequency. The girl is glaring at me like I’m the most evil person on the planet. What she fails to comprehend is that she couldn’t hate me as much as I hate myself.
I’m turning around to leave when she flings her coffee at me. Scorching-hot liquid soaks my shirt, splashing the exposed skin at my neck. A few drops land on my face, and it feels like someone is peeling the skin off with a carving knife. Wild screams rip from my throat as unbearable pain slices across my upper body. I grab my shirt and whip it off, using the dry side to mop up the liquid currently burning my chest, neck, and face. I’m on my knees, screams intermingling with tears, when Brenda and two of the therapists rush into the corridor to see what the commotion is about.
Loving Kalvin (The Kennedy Boys Book 4) Page 22