Making It

by Christine d'Abo

  Juggling his son to the other hip, he glared at Eli. “Why are you here?”

  Eli held up the envelope in response. “You have a kid.”

  Devan had dreamed of this moment for years. His fantasies ranged from Eli coming home and begging Devan to take him back, to Eli coming home only to throw divorce papers at him. He’d not been prepared for Eli to ever know about Matthew. “Have you signed them?”

  “We need to talk.” Eli crossed his arms. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  He could say no, and he knew Eli wouldn’t do anything to force his way. He should say no and make Eli hand the papers over before leaving. Nothing good would come of Eli being back in this place and around his son.

  It was the sound of Matthew’s cooing that convinced him. “Ten minutes.”

  He turned his back on Eli and brought Matthew over to his playpen. “Da da da.”

  “Yes, baby, I’m here. You play with Mr. Fuzzy.” He handed the bunny over, which immediately went into Matthew’s mouth.

  When he turned around, Eli had shut the door and taken his shoes off. “The place hasn’t changed much.”

  “I happened to love how my apartment looked. I had so much more space after you left and could decorate how I liked, it was awesome.” It was a complete lie. He’d painted the spare room to turn it into Matthew’s nursery, but that had been the extent of the changes.

  Eli walked up to the couch and tapped his finger on the top of the cushion. “I thought you wanted to replace this?”

  “It’s comfortable. Did you sign the papers?”

  “No.” Eli tossed the envelope on the couch. “You went and did it. You have a kid.”

  “I did and I do.” Christ, this was a conversation that he’d been playing over and over in his head during nightmares. His guilt that never let him fully relax and enjoy the life that he’d worked so hard to build. But now that Eli was here, Devan knew he had to come clean. The anger bled from him as the tension tightened in his chest. “There’s something I need to tell you about him.”

  The muscle in Eli’s jaw jumped. “What’s that?”

  Devan closed his eyes momentarily. “There’s a chance that he’s yours.”

  The color drained from Eli’s face. “What?”

  God, he’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever have to make this confession, to give Eli a reason to stay around any longer than he needed to. Unfortunately, the truth wouldn’t allow for that. Despite what Eli had done to him, how he’d crushed his heart, Devan couldn’t keep this secret any longer.

  Eli grabbed the back of the couch with both hands and leaned forward. “What do you mean there’s a chance he’s mine?”

  “Exactly that.” He wanted to sit on the couch, to sink so far into the cushions that he’d be hidden. This truth had been weighing on him for over a year, and now that the time had arrived to confess the truth, Devan wasn’t sure exactly what to say.

  Eli might have been in the wrong for not finalizing the divorce, but Devan was no better by withholding the truth about Matthew. “When I decided that I wanted to go forward and try again for a child, I gave the doctors a fresh sample.” He’d been so nervous about being a single dad, about Meg having another miscarriage, but the chance to have a family of his own was worth the risk.

  “But?” Eli’s grip on the back of the couch hadn’t relaxed.

  “The doctor called me in shortly after we realized Meg was pregnant. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up at the lab. They used our original combined samples instead of the new one I’d provided.” He’d never told Meg that. To this day, as far as she was concerned, the baby was all Devan’s. “I was told that if we wanted to end the pregnancy, they would make the arrangements. But I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry.”

  “Why weren’t my samples destroyed?”

  “I don’t know. It was too late to do anything about it at that point. Meg was pregnant.”

  Eli’s face had gone from white to red and his fists were balled at his sides. He was furious, despite his voice not being louder than normal. “When I’d walked out on you and made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want a kid.”

  “I know that. It’s not like I set out to screw you over. There’d been a mistake, one I had no control over. After all she’d gone through with the miscarriages, I wasn’t about to ask her to have an abortion.” God, the thought of it made him ill. “She was sacrificing her body for me again. This was the last time I was going to ask her to try. There was a chance he was mine, and that’s all I needed.”

  “Jesus, Devan. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A surprised laugh escaped him. “How? I couldn’t get you to answer me about signing the divorce papers, and this wasn’t exactly a conversation I wanted to pass through your manager.” He could imagine Stephan’s reaction to that little revelation. “Would it have made a difference? If it had turned out that he was yours, would you have miraculously changed your mind about wanting a family? Wanting to be with me? You would have hated me more than you do now, for forcing your hand.”

  “I don’t hate you. I never did.” Eli relaxed his grip as his gaze slid to Matthew. “You said that there’s a chance that he’s mine?”

  “I don’t know for certain. I never bothered getting a paternity test done. As far as I’m concerned, he’s mine and you are my ex-husband.” Or would be the moment he signed those papers. “I’m not sure why you came here. You could have signed the papers and mailed them.”

  Eli hadn’t looked away from Matthew. “I wanted to look you in the eye when I apologized. I hadn’t known about the divorce papers and wanted to explain. I’m glad that I did.” He moved away from the couch and over to the playpen. Crouching down, he pressed his fingers against the mesh side. Matthew reached out and gave one of his fingers a squeeze, laughing when Eli wiggled them. “Would you have ever told me?”

  “It was my decision to have a child, not yours. When you left . . .” Devan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “When you left, I had a lot of time to think. Meg needed time as well. The miscarriage was really hard on her, despite not wanting the baby for herself. We talked a lot, but when she said she was willing to try one more time, I knew that this was what I really wanted. What I needed for me. Surprisingly, it had nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

  His birth family had been nonexistent. Vague memories of his biological mother would haunt him every now and again, but he couldn’t trust that they were real. He was a child of the foster system. While he’d had the benefit of landing with a good family, that never lessened the pain he’d felt after being discarded by his biological mother.

  No, he’d wanted someone to love and be loved by unconditionally. He thought he’d found that with Eli, and adding a child was simply sweetening the pot.

  Too bad that hadn’t worked out.

  Eli smiled at Matthew before slowly getting to his feet. God, he was more attractive than when he’d left. Which was so not the thought Devan wanted to be having right now. He needed Eli to sign the papers and go. Devan needed for him to be gone once and for all so he could focus on what was important—his son.

  Moving around to where the papers were, he picked up the envelope. “Let me get you a pen.”

  “How about you give me something else?”

  Devan stopped in his tracks, having no idea where this was going. “What could I possibly want to give you?”

  “A chance to apologize properly.” Eli’s gaze shifted from Matthew to the envelope in Devan’s hands. “I’ll sign them. I owe you that much. But I need to know what happened, why I didn’t hear about this.”

  “Because your manager is an asshole.”

  Eli tensed. “If he’s done this, kept you from me, then I need to know the details. My contract with him is . . . stiff. I can’t confront him without knowing everything. He can ruin my career otherwise.”

  “That’s not my problem.” As Devan spoke, the words rang hollow. Eli might have hurt him, but standing here looking a
t him, Devan knew he didn’t have it in himself to reciprocate.

  Eli nodded, appearing defeated. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Those were the words Devan had longed to hear for years now. Shit, he’d dreamed about it. Why couldn’t he have come back on his own? “You asked me if I would have ever told you. Would you have listened if I had? I know you, know how that brain of yours works. You’d have gotten a call or email from me about Matthew, and you would have blamed me. ‘Oh, there goes Devan again, trying to force me into something that I’m not ready for.’” Anger filled him, giving him courage he didn’t normally feel. Devan moved until he was right in Eli’s space. “If I hadn’t come to the gym and talked to Zack, would you have come to see me?”

  Devan was close enough he could see the emotions flit across Eli’s face. When Eli swallowed, his gaze moved to watch the bob of Eli’s Adam’s apple. He should have been surprised when Eli reached out and gently circled the wrist of his hand that held the envelope, but he wasn’t. He knew this man, almost as well as he knew himself. It hadn’t been Eli’s physical prowess that had initially attracted him—though that hadn’t hurt—but rather his quiet kindness.

  As Eli lifted Devan’s hand up, the weight of the envelope nearly became too much. This had been an unwanted wedge between them for a long time now. It needed to be removed. Eli must have had the same thought. Taking the envelope from Devan, Eli moved in closer. “I fucked up with you.”

  “Yes, you did.” Understatement of the goddamned century.

  “Come out to supper with me.” When Devan stiffened, Eli shifted his grip so he held Devan’s hand. “We’ll talk and I’ll sign the papers.”

  “When?”

  “I’m in Toronto for a month, maybe a bit longer depending on . . . well it doesn’t matter. I’m here. I want to have a paternity test. I want to know if Matthew’s mine.”

  “You said yourself you never wanted kids. What does it matter if he’s biologically yours or not? I’m not asking you for any support or money. I don’t want you to be this person who drifts in and out of his life.” In and out of my life.

  Eli stepped closer, so their mouths were only a few inches apart. “You have a child. A boy who might be mine. I can’t walk away from this. Not without knowing.”

  “I should say no.” Devan swallowed. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss Eli or cry.

  “You don’t owe me anything, I know that. But I think I have the right to know if I’m his father. I can’t believe you don’t want to have the truth.” There was a sadness reflected in Eli’s gaze, but Devan knew he would do exactly what Eli said. “Please.”

  God, he was a fool for considering this. Eli had not simply broken his heart, he’d shattered it. That wasn’t something that they could recover from. Not easily at any rate. If Matthew turned out to be Eli’s, Devan didn’t know what he’d do with that information. He wouldn’t love his son any less, but would Eli then suddenly want to be a part of their family? Would Devan let him?

  Regardless, Eli was right about one thing. He did have the right to know if Matthew was his. “I’ll consider getting a paternity testing kit. I just . . . Give me some time.”

  Eli nodded, his gaze back on Matthew. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “What if he’s yours?” God, this was so screwed up. “What will you do?”

  “I’m not going to take him from you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not.” Shit, he hadn’t considered that. “I . . .”

  Eli gave Devan’s hand a squeeze. “I’m not going to take your son from you. I . . . Can you imagine what kind of crap father I’d be? That’s why I never wanted kids to begin with. I barely know how to look after myself.”

  Devan had always thought Eli would have made an amazing father. “Just because you didn’t have a dad doesn’t mean you’d make a bad one.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

  Another old argument Devan wasn’t willing to rehash. “I’ll look into what we have to do for a paternity test.”

  Eli nodded. “Thank you.”

  They stood there staring at one another as Matthew gurgled away. Normally always one to have a quip or comment, for the life of him, Devan didn’t know what to say.

  Eli rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. “So, about supper?”

  “I can write everything down—”

  “Devan. Please?” There was no arguing with that tone. “Do you still work at the clinic on King?”

  Devan had been a phlebotomist for Canadian Blood Services for years. It was strangely the only thing he’d ever wanted to do with his life. “Yeah, still there.”

  “Are you working Wednesday night?”

  “No.” Devan’s hands were clammy and shaking. He pulled from Eli’s grasp, turning to look at Matthew, who’d fallen asleep in his playpen.

  “I’ll pick you up at the clinic. Take you out to supper, sign the papers, and we can talk about what Stephan did.”

  “And if I don’t like how our dinner is going?”

  “Leave. You don’t need to make up an excuse. You can get up from the table, and I won’t stop you.”

  This is such a horrible idea. “Fine. One meal. And this is not a date.”

  “Of course not. I’ll pick you up Wednesday after work.”

  “I’ll have to see if my sitter can stay longer first.” And continuing with his newly acquired trend of acting on his bad ideas, he grabbed a crayon and a piece of paper from the floor and jotted down his cell number. “Text me tomorrow and I’ll let you know for certain.”

  Eli hesitated, but gently took the paper from him. “Thank you.”

  “You better go. I need to get him cleaned up and into bed.”

  Eli nodded. “What’s his name?”

  “Matthew James.”

  “That’s nice.” Eli’s gaze seemed to get stuck on Matthew. He shook his head before moving toward the door. “I’ll text you around noon.”

  “Yup.” Why was he doing this? Nothing positive could come from it. Nothing at all.

  Eli slipped on his shoes and opened the door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  The moment the door closed, Devan raced across his small apartment and flicked the lock. Then, for good measure, he fastened the security chain in place as well. Neither of those would keep him safe from the attack of emotions he was currently suffering.

  Heart racing and body shaking, Devan was terrified he’d drop Matthew, but the need to touch and hold his baby was too strong to ignore. Picking him up from the playpen, he relaxed as Matthew snuggled in, pressing his face to the side of Devan’s throat before resuming his thumb-sucking. The scent of the baby shampoo was still fresh from his bath last night, and Devan pressed his nose to Matthew’s head to breath it in.

  Everything would be fine.

  This thing with Eli was only a bump in the road. He’d chosen to walk away, been perfectly clear that this wasn’t the life he’d wanted. One dinner wasn’t going to change that. No, they’d have their dinner. Devan would give it the whole meal, enjoy a nice glass of wine and an expensive dessert, and then he’d make Eli sign the papers.

  For now, he’d take Matthew, lie down, and have a good long cuddle.

  Eli hadn’t slept at all last night. After he’d gotten back to his mom’s house, he’d grabbed a bottle of water and stretched out on his bed, only to stare at a crack in the ceiling plaster. He’d been in the house for nearly a week now, and he’d not noticed the split and peeled plaster before then. It shouldn’t have bothered him—the house was old and there were no doubt more cracks that hadn’t caught his attention—but there was something about this one that pissed him off.

  It had been there, right above him this whole time, and he hadn’t noticed.

  That was apparently a theme of his life that he hadn’t been aware of until recently. So the damn crack and his conscience kept him up for hours. Three years ago, he’d been a mess: angry at the world and depressed. Between trying to
help his mom and going through the miscarriages with Meg, Eli’s emotional reserves had been depleted. Not that he’d said anything to anyone. That wasn’t how a man was supposed to be. He’d pushed himself on and on until he was little more than a shell. Meg’s last miscarriage had taken the final drop of feeling from him, leaving him numb.

  The night he’d left Devan at the hospital, he’d called Stephan looking for help; the call was a shock to them both. Like always, Stephan had made everything seem so easy. “Come to Montreal and work out here. Take the time you need to focus on your career and everything else will slot into place.” And it had worked for a while. He’d become a one-man machine, pushing his body to extremes until that empty shell was encased in impenetrable muscle and sinew. Nothing was getting in or out. Eli continued on once again.

  But like the unseen crack in the ceiling, his life had been split, and he hadn’t noticed the wound. Not until Devan had opened the door and he’d come face-to-face with Matthew.

  This morning, he’d gone to the hardware store and gotten what he needed to patch the crack. It helped to get his blood pumping, to clear his head, giving him the opportunity to think.

  Devan had a child, one that might actually be his.

  If the thought of being a father three years ago had scared him, seeing that beautiful boy had been downright terrifying. How could something so small, so damn near perfect, have come from him? It didn’t seem possible. And, yet, the way he looked was so much like the pictures of himself as a child, they wouldn’t have been out of place on the mantel downstairs.

  Matthew had to be his.

  Brown hair, rich-brown eyes: truly, Matthew could be biologically either of theirs. Devan’s eyes were hazel, but he vaguely remembered something from high school biology about hazel being pretty much brown, and wasn’t that a dominant trait? He couldn’t quite remember. So Matthew could still be Devan’s. Matthew’s little nose was pudgy, like Devan’s, but also looked a lot like Eli’s mother’s. God, there was no way to know for certain without a paternity test.