by Hazel Parker
“I was scared.” She fights to keep her voice from rising.
“So, what? His angry tone alarms her.
She has never seen him mad before. In the entire year that they dated—or kicked it or whatever—he never got upset or even annoyed. If she was late, he was all smiles and kisses. If he got cut off on the highway, he said that the other motorist must’ve been in a rush. If he was bumped walking down the busy New York City streets, he said: “If they knew better, they’d do better.” He was always mellow. Nothing ever upset him.
Her eyes widen in fear at how poorly this unplanned reveal was going. She should’ve asked him to meet her at a popular restaurant during a busy time, so that he couldn’t make a scene, just like she did when she broke up with him. She never planned to tell him this. Her timing is all wrong. She looks to the car to escape. She wonders how she can ask him to drive her home, without abruptly ending the conversation.
“Arabella.” He says her name like a prayer, a plea, a petition for her to stop this waking nightmare.
She can see the wheels turning. She can see him connecting the dots.
“Tell me.”
She inhales deeply and starts talking fast—afraid that she’ll say too much. But, there is no too much now. Now, it’s only whole truth.
“I told my friends, accept for my close ones, that I enrolled in an intensive Ivy League MBA program online, that I didn’t have time to meet up with them, and that I’d contact them when I graduated.” She pauses for him to ask her a question. He stares at her bewilderment. She continues: “After nine months of living with my parents in our Greenwich home and taking birthing classes—”
“Alone?”
“With my mom. My dad didn’t want to sit through any childbirth classes.” A faint smile crosses her face as she recalls him bowing out of that duty. She refocuses on Corbin’s incredulous face and pushes on to finish her story. “I gave birth on November seventeenth, nearly four years ago. I had a baby boy.”
“A boy.” His voice becomes wistful and hopeful. “Where is he?”
“At home.”
“I want to meet him.”
“Right now?”
“You’ve kept my son from me for four years—”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
“My son.” He shakes his head. “My parents would’ve been thrilled.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding me?” He stretches his arms up over his head. “All they ever wanted was a boy. They were disappointed when Dana had a girl. They didn’t say it. But, it was on their faces. They wanted a boy to continue the Goode family name. They would’ve welcomed you into the family with open arms. A Wilder? The merging of two blue-blood American families? Forget about it. They would’ve thrown a wedding to rival Gatsby’s extravaganzas.”
“Don’t get me wrong, they love their granddaughter. They adore Chloe.” He steps back from Arabella and examines her face. “I want to meet him.” He turns and gestures for Arabella to get into the passenger seat of the big-bodied black Rolls Royce.
Settling into the seat, Arabella reaches for the seatbelt and clicks it before Corbin climbs into the driver’s seat. He clicks his seat belt, presses a button, and silently the engine starts up. She feels the purr of the electric engine. The butterfly doors close. She runs her hands along the smooth leather and she wonders how many other women have ridden in this car. Quickly she dismisses the thought. Corbin said he hasn’t dated since Dana died. She believes him. He never lies. Unlike her.
She glances around the interior. Five years ago, Corbin would’ve taken her into the expansive backseat, hiked up her skirt, kissed her at the apex of her legs until she was hot and wet and ready for him. The thought sends hormones flooding her veins. Arabella crosses her legs to clamp down on her rising desire. Now is clearly not the time.
Corbin glance over at her legs. He knows. She knows he knows. He knows that she knows he knows. Another time he would’ve joked about it. He would’ve turned off the car, grabbed her, pulled her into the back seat, and made love to her with her back pressed into the backseat and her legs spread around his waist.
Now, he glances away, presses a button, and watches the garage door open in the rearview mirror.
How far they have come from their fun and free-love days.
Will Corbin forgive her?
The nerves are settling in her stomach making her feel ill, not know how this is going to go.
Corbin jabs the radio button, and the soothing sounds fill the loud silence of the car. Arabella tries to ignore the foreboding feelings rising in her gut, threatening to spill over into another loud, ugly cry. She looks out the passenger window, turning away from Corbin’s gorgeous profile, to soothe her anxiety. She can’t escape his cologne calling to her. She presses her legs together and wills her carnal reaction to stop. Her mind goes back to Tucker to distract her body.
How will she explain to Tucker who Corbin is? Will Tucker accept Corbin as his dad?
She was careful to read him children’s stories about single parent families. She wanted Tucker to learn that there are families with one mom who loves her child just as much as the families with two parents.
She always knew that she’d have to explain to Tucker who his father is. She just didn’t know it would be today.
Gripping the black seat belt across her chest, she wishes she could skip to the end where she and Corbin magically end up together. Or go back and tell him about the pregnancy. She wishes she had a script for what to do next.
She feels powerless over the outcome. The helplessness scares her.
For the second time, she prays to the powers-that-be to make everything okay.
“Which townhouse?” Corbin’s voice is thick with words unsaid. She can’t tell if he’s holding back tears or anger. Probably both.
“The last one on the corner of Paul Robeson Place.” The red-brick, four-story townhouse with the rounded exterior and snow-topped window sills beckons her to come in from the cold. She misses her son, his stories, his toys. She misses his cuddles. Her muscles pain to jump out of the car, run up the cement walkway, and four steps to her front door.
Corbin parks in an empty spot in front of her building.
“Lucky.” She marvels at his ability to find good parking spaces in New York City when they dated and now in Princeton.
Corbin smiles, turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns to fully face Arabella.
“Arabella?”
Sharply she turns around to face Corbin—the father of her child, the heir to the billion-dollar Goode fortune, the widowed dad.
She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to talk anymore. She just wants to get out of the car, open the door, let Corbin into her home, and introduce him to his son.
“Nervous?” He runs his hands through his wavy hair.
She was so busy marinating in her guilt and sorrow, that it hadn’t occurred to her that he would be feeling trepidatious.
She nods her head. “You?”
“Uh, yeah.” He swallows, looking deeply into her eyes for assurance. Then says, “Shall we?” He presses a button, the doors open up, they climb out, and the doors close down. Corbin jogs around the car to help her to the sidewalk.
Her heart aches at the act of chivalry. He was always such a gentleman. He never smoked. He rarely drank. Although they did have one or two drunken nights. He never got wasted and blacked out. He always wore suits or blazers, even though he didn’t work in an office—he didn’t work at all.
She wonders why she ever broke up with him. Sighing, she links Corbin’s arm.
As if in slow motion, she leads him to her front door. As if floating above her body, she watches herself pull her keys out of her bag, unlock the front door, and step into the warm room. Corbin follows her. He closes the door behind him, shutting out the cold February air.
Inside, the warmth of the fireplace and the aroma of the fire feel like home to Corbin. He suspected that something had
been wrong for Arabella to suddenly break up with him four years ago. He never guessed it was this.
“Mommy!” A brown-haired little boy bounds across the hardwood floor and jumps up into Arabella’s arms. She inhales his baby powder scent.
“Tucker!” Lifting him up off the floor, she hugs him tightly, and sways to the right and left.
“Tucker,” Corbin whispers.
Arabella looks from her son’s trusting and love-filled eyes to Corbin’s disbelieving and joyous eyes.
“You named him Tucker.” His voice cracks.
Arabella puts Tucker down on the floor. She squats to get on his eye level. He squats too, just like Chloe did earlier. Arabella laughs. Tucker giggles. Corbin joins in too.
“Tucker, I want you to meet someone.”
“Who’s this, mommy?” Tucker is unafraid and unabashed.
Corbin squats down to get to Tucker’s eye level. Tucker sits down on the floor, just like Chloe did earlier. Corbin laughs with tears in his eyes.
Earlier, he thought that his problem was how to rekindle his love with Arabella under the guise of asking her to set him up with his future wife. Now, he thinks his problem is bigger, deeper. How does he welcome his son—his namesake—into his life and forgive his mom for hiding him for so long?
“This is your—” Her voice falters. “This is your daddy.”
“Daddy?” Tucker’s eyes widen in amazement. He takes in Corbin’s baseball cap, black hair like his, hazel green eyes like his, and olive complexion like his.
“He looks just like you.” Arabella’s voice comes out in a barely audible whisper.
“Daddy?” Tucker takes a step towards Corbin.
Arabella’s secret that she kept from most of the world, that she kept from Corbin is now out in the open. She wishes there were a guide to how to introduce your secret child to his dad. She wishes she knew what to say next or how to say it. She watches silently, hoping Corbin will accept Tucker—and herself—with open arms.
“Come here, buddy.” Corbin’s voice is barely an audible whisper.
“Daddy?” Tucker moves slowly, as if approaching an exotic animal at the zoo. He takes in Corbin’s navy-blue blazer, khakis, cologne, and green socks.
“Avocado!” He points to Corbin’s socks and laughs.
“Avocado?” Arabella asks.
“They’re a birthday gift from Chloe.” Tears threaten to spill down Corbin’s face.
Arabella fights the desire to reach over and wipe his tears when they fall.
“Come here, big boy.” Corbin reaches for Tucker who jumps into his open arms. Corbin hugs the son he never knew he had until moments ago. Tears spill down his cheeks.
As if contagious, tears pour down Arabella’s face. Aware that her makeup is probably in patches now, she retrieves Corbin’s handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her cheeks.
“Miss Wilder,” the au pair says from across the room, “shall I prepare dinner for three?”
Arabella looks from Ana to Corbin and searches face. He’s enraptured with his new-found son. His splitting image. He ruffles Tucker’s hair and wrestles with him. Rough-housing the way Arabella never does and always hoped a dad would play with her son someday. Her heart constricts at the mistake she made in keeping her son from his dad.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Her throat tightens with emotion.
“Of course!” Corbin says.
“Macaroni and cheese!” Tucker wrestles Corbin to the floor then pops up.
“And broccoli,” Ana tells Tucker. “Come wash your hands.”
“Coming, Daddy?” Tucker holds onto Corbin’s hand.
“Yes!” Corbin stands and follows his son to the guest bathroom off the foyer where everyone takes turns washing their hands.
Over a dinner of gluten-free macaroni and goat cheese, sautéed broccoli, caramelized onions with mushrooms, and baked chicken, Tucker tells his dad all about their house in Connecticut and their apartment in New York and their bungalow in the Bahamas. Corbin listens closely, looking at a mirror image of himself when he was a boy. Over a dessert of home-baked apple pie with vanilla ice cream and hot cocoa, Tucker questions Corbin’s knowledge of sea animals, warm climates, and tropical rainforests. Corbin answers all of his son’s questions and asks him if he knows what is the tallest mountain and the widest desert and the deepest canyon in the world. Enthralled, Tucker soaks up all of his dad’s words.
They bond instantly as if time—or Arabella—had never kept them apart.
At bedtime, Tucker begs his mom and dad to read him a bedtime story. Corbin’s eyes fill with tears as he reclines in the blue race car bed—at Tucker’s insistence—and reads him The Kissing Hand. Corbin wipes tears from his eyes when he finishes reading the story and closes the book.
“Daddy,” Tucker’s childlike voice warms Corbin’s heart, “why’re you crying?”
“Because I’m happy.”
“Why don’t you smile?”
“I’m smiling too.” Corbin grins through his tears.
“Go to sleep, Tucker.” Arabella smoothes out his long brown hair and kisses his forehead.
“Will you stay with me?” Tucker asks his dad.
“I have to go home.”
“Why?” His sleepy eyes flutter closed. He forces them open.
“Because your sister is waiting for me to read her a bedtime story.”
“My sister?” Tucker yawns. “I have a sister? Mommy, how come you never told me?” His eyes flutter closed again.
“Mommy made a really big mistake. She was going to wait until you were older. Remember how I told you that sometimes adults make mistakes?”
Tucker nods sleepily with his eyes closed.
“Well, mommy made a mistake.” Tears spill down her cheeks again. She hasn’t allowed herself to cry since her parents died until today. She needed to take care of her son. She needed to film her show. She needed to keep it together for her son and her clients.
But, now that she’s in the blue race car bed with her son and his twin dad, she feels free to cry. Cry for keeping Tucker a secret from Corbin. Cry for wanting a second chance with Corbin. Cry for thinking that love may be possible for them after all these years.
The soft sound of Tucker’s deep breathing and his sweet breath fills the space between his mom and dad.
Corbin clears his throat. “I should go.”
Arabella wipes the tears with his handkerchief. She nods, unable to speak. Slowly she climbs out of the bed. Corbin mirrors her slow-mo moves.
Silently they leave his bedroom, turn off the overhead light, leave the nightlight on to illuminate the many yellowish glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and pad down the hardwood stairs.
In all her fantasies of Tucker meeting his dad, Arabella never dreamed that he’d meet him on a random winter night.
At the bottom of the staircase, Arabella holds on to the bannister to keep herself from falling into Corbin’s arms. She wants to collapse into his arms. She wants him to declare his love for her.
He stops at the front door on the welcome mat, turns around, and stares into her eyes. Gazing into her blue eyes, he takes in her hand gripping the banister, her high heels standing on two different steps as if she’s about to go down—or go back up—the stairs.
He examines this little boy’s many colorful toys spread throughout the home. The baby photos of Tucker on the walls and end tables. Corbin’s eyes wander over the prints of baby feet and baby hands. Slowly his eyes settle on Arabella’s. With wonder and resentment, Corbin asks:
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was your plan?”
“I didn’t have one.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“All those years ago.” His voice trails off. “We could’ve been a family.”
“We—” Arabella bottles up the hope swelling inside her. Hearing him vocalize the hope recent
ly born within her gives her the courage to ask: “We could have a playdate. With Chloe and Tucker.”
Corbin grins the same easygoing smile that captivated Arabella’s heart five years ago.
“Chloe would love that.” A rush of emotion floods through Corbin. He feels light and bright with the possibility of a future—of a family—with the-one-who-got-away.
Up until this moment, Corbin wasn’t sure if he was ready to forgive Arabella. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to absolve her of the wrongs she did him: breaking up with him, disappearing from his life, having their baby, hiding their baby from him. But, now? After losing Dana to that horrible accident? Now, he’s ready to try to forgive Arabella. He’s ready to think about forgiving her—if she asks.
“How about tomorrow?” Arabella is astonished by her resolve. She is startled at her courage.
“No time like the present.” Corbin hovers in front of the door. Not moving towards her. Not moving away.
Arabella hesitates. Does she make a move? Step forward? Walk into his arms? She wants to. Or does she wait for him to make the first move? She waits.
“So…” She leans on the banister. “See ya tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” He turns to unlock the top and bottom locks. He lets himself out. As he closes the door behind him, he looks back at her and says, “And tomorrow and tomorrow.”
The door clicks shut.
And just like that, Corbin Tucker Goode is back in her life. Arabella doesn’t know how this will work or where this is going.
The memory of a summer date five years ago sparked when Corbin surprised her with tickets to see Macbeth in Central Park. She had wanted to see a play in the Shakespeare in the Park summer series. But, she never had time to wait in line and get tickets for that day’s showing. Corbin was always attentive. He remembered everything she said. Even when she thought he was distracted. She mentioned to him over dinner once that her favorite Shakespeare monologue was Macbeth’s speech: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.”
Hearing Corbin’s deep voice say that line made her heart flutter. Just those words unleashed a battalion of hope inside her. A brigade ready to fight for her love—for their love.