by Penny Reid
Since I was the world champion at avoiding Bryan Leech, we’d been forced to work out the details via text.
* * *
Bryan: I tried to catch you but Alice said you already left. When can we discuss this weekend?
Me: This Saturday, 11. Stephen’s Green Park. We’ll be at the playground.
Bryan: Do you want to talk about the details beforehand?
Me: I’ll introduce you as a family friend. After you take some time to think things through, we can discuss next steps.
Bryan: What does that mean?
Me: Once you decide what you want your level of involvement to be, we can talk about what to tell Patrick.
Bryan: I don’t need time. I’m all in.
* * *
I didn’t respond because I didn’t know how he defined all in.
Worst-case scenario, all in meant Bryan wanted full custody and I would have to prepare for a custody battle.
Best-case scenario, all in meant Bryan wanted to spend as much time as possible with Patrick and be a supportive, positive figure in our son’s life as a parent. Patrick would have a dad who loved him.
I guess time will tell . . .
Even though I’d prepared Patrick—telling him that Thursday evening we were going to meet someone new over the weekend—Saturday afternoon arrived much, much, much sooner than I’d anticipated.
My reasoning for not telling Patrick who we were going to meet was simply: I still didn’t know Bryan very well.
What if he flaked out? What if he changed his mind and decided he didn’t want to know his son? What if he convinced himself I was lying?
I couldn’t bear the thought of telling my son he was going to meet his father and then Bryan not showing. If that happened, it would break Patrick’s heart.
And then I’d be forced to torture and murder Bryan Leech.
So I was vague about who we were meeting.
“You should sit down.” Sean’s voice was softer than usual, laced with concern and something else I couldn’t place.
I shook my head, my eyes on Patrick as he climbed up a ladder leading to a long, metal slide. He waved at me when he reached the top, a big grin on his face.
“I can’t sit. I’m too nervous.”
“That’s perfectly understandable, darling.”
My heart twisted. In truth, it hurt. It felt bruised and tender. I could barely breathe.
“He’s here,” Sean said.
I turned my head and spotted Bryan immediately, a jolt of anticipation and fear and resolve shooting down my spine, making my fingertips tingle. His eyes were on me and he looked . . .
“He looks excited,” Sean remarked, his voice betraying a hint of confusion. I sensed my big cousin stand, moving the short distance to hover behind me, offering silent support. I was so thankful Sean had come. I couldn’t fathom doing this alone.
“He does look excited. Excited is good, right?” I couldn’t stop the worry from bleeding into my tone.
“Yes,” Sean confirmed. “Excited is the best possible emotion for him to be feeling at present.”
Bryan’s gaze flickered over my form, then ensnared mine, but I barely noticed. I couldn’t think. I was out of breath by the time he reached us, panic driving the air from my lungs.
“Eilish.” His eyes moved between mine searchingly, then he surprised me by closing the distance between us and wrapping me in a tight hug.
At first, I reacted as best I could given the situation. I stood like a terrified statue and stared forward with wide, panicked eyes.
“Bryan,” I squeaked as he held on, the warmth and strength of him melting my fears and succeeding where all my attempts to calm myself over the last week had failed.
He affected me.
His arms around my body, the feel of his sturdy—yes, sturdy like a table—form poked a hole in some wall I’d been hiding behind. After a moment, I returned his embrace. I held on to him. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pressed my face against his chest. I leaned against him. I gave him my weight, the burden of my worries.
Just for a moment.
I breathed him in and he smelled . . . fantastic. Familiar. He smelled like my dreams. And he felt too good to be true.
He is too good to be true.
And you’re forgettable.
Just like that, the moment ended, reality a cruel and painful but truthful reminder. I needed to keep my distance. I needed to be cautious and careful. Josey’s loony suggestions that I leverage Patrick to seduce Bryan were just that, loony. I would never use my son that way. Not ever. My mother used us against my father, and I knew what that felt like.
As much as I hoped Bryan’s definition of all in was my best-case scenario, there existed a very real possibility that he defined it quite differently.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, pushing him away and taking a step back.
Bryan didn’t quite release me, his hands still lingering on my upper arms as he shuffled a step forward, following me.
“Thank you for . . .” He didn’t finish, his bright green eyes moving over my face in a way that felt like too much.
Stiffening and straightening to my full height, I lifted my chin. “Let me go get Patrick. He’s right over there.”
Bryan turned, his gaze sweeping over the playground, and I watched his profile. I knew the exact moment his eyes found Patrick. Bryan’s expression became one of wonder.
And in that moment, I believed in love at first sight, because I’d just witnessed it.
I’d just witnessed a man fall head over heels in love with his own son.
“C-come on, I’ll introduce you,” I said after a prolonged moment of quiet, my voice shaky. This was just too surreal.
I led the way to where Patrick was again climbing the ladder to go down the slide.
“Mummy, look at me,” he said as he crested the top, then sailed down with a delighted wheeee. We came to this park often, and I’d already taught him the safe way to use the slide countless times. Still, Bryan looked a little concerned that he was using it without supervision, and there was a part of me that approved of his worry.
“He’s been on this slide before. It’s safe,” I told him quietly, and he turned to look at me. He didn’t say anything, only nodded, then brought his rapt attention back to Patrick. He looked fascinated.
Patrick stared up at him, not a shy bone in his body. I guessed he got that from his father.
“Who are you?”
Bryan went down on one knee and gave him the widest, brightest, most loving smile I’d ever seen. It sort of held every part of me hostage for a moment, and I started having all these . . . feelings.
No. NO. NOOOO!
FEELINGS ARE NOT ALLOWED.
I clenched my teeth, willing the untidy feelings away. Now was not the time for messy feelings. The middle of the night was the time, when night cheese and sardines and newly purchased chocolate bars were close at hand. Not. Now.
“I’m Bryan. I’m . . .” he hesitated, seemingly swallowing with some difficulty before finishing, “I’m a friend of your mummy.”
My attention wandered between the two of them, the similarity in their looks even more pronounced when they were side by side. More emotions. More teeth clenching. At this rate, I was in danger of breaking my jaw.
Patrick absentmindedly tugged on his hair as he surveyed the man before him. My heart beat fast, and I realized that, oddly enough, I wanted my son to like him. I wanted him to accept Bryan, for his sake as well as Bryan’s. Although the big, hulking rugby player was doing a good job of acting calm, I could tell how much he desperately wanted the same thing.
I grew up with a father in name only, and I didn’t want that for my son.
“My name’s Patrick. I’m almost five. Mummy told me you were coming,” Patrick answered casually, shrugging, and Bryan shot me a little grin.
“Oh yeah, what did she say about me?”
“That you’re her friend, and Monkey Sean’s, too.�
�
Bryan mouthed a questioning monkey? at me.
I laughed softly, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “It’s how he says uncle, or uncie, I guess. I keep trying to teach him the right way but he’s dead set on monkey. Drives Sean up the wall.”
Bryan smiled. “I bet it does.”
“Well, secretly he loves it,” I rolled my eyes, “but he just won’t admit it.”
“Monkey Sean bought me a dickie bow,” said Patrick, and Bryan turned back to him.
“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Bryan chuckled, clearly enchanted.
“And a suit. All men need a suit,” Patrick went on, parroting Sean’s words. I laughed some more and it sounded a tad hysterical to my ears, but it also felt good. My cousin was determined to make a mini-Sean out of my son.
“Do you know how to play football?”
“I do.” Patrick’s eyes brightened.
“Want to play with me? Come on. Over here.”
Patrick was already off the slide, grabbing his ball, and making his way over to the grassy area before Bryan had the chance to respond. I laughed at Bryan’s dumbfounded expression and gestured for him to follow. Once he was gone, I stood there, watching as they kicked the ball to one another.
The scene looked so . . . right. Meant to be. I bit my top lip to keep my chin from wobbling and I released a sigh—half relief, half worry—and went back to join Sean over on the bench. I wanted to give them time without me hovering, time to know each other, build the foundation of their future relationship.
It was the right thing to do.
But walking back to Sean and trusting Bryan with my son was also the most difficult thing I’d ever done.
* * *
“Are you coming down with something?”
I pulled my attention away from where Bryan and Patrick were still playing football and glanced at my cousin. “No. I don’t think so. Why?”
Sean flashed a mischievous smile, then quickly suppressed it. “It’s just that your eyes are watery and you keep clearing your throat.”
I huffed a laugh, sniffling, blinking away new tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Don’t you?” he asked softly.
“I haven’t cried in years. But this last week, since telling Bryan the truth, I’ve been . . .” I shook my head, turning my gaze back to father and son.
Bryan had just picked Patrick up and swung him around. They were both laughing.
I clenched my teeth against emotion clawing at my throat and choked out, “I guess I feel guilty.”
“No. I don’t think that’s it.”
“I do. I mean, I kept them apart for so long.” Shaking my head, I felt the full weight of my terrible decisions. Part of me recalled Bryan’s affirmation that he wouldn’t have been worthy of fatherhood a few years ago, and that he understood why I didn’t tell him, but still. “I just hope he can forgive me.”
Sean was quiet a moment then gently prodded, “Who? Patrick or Bryan?”
“Patrick, of course.”
“You don’t care about Bryan’s forgiveness?” My cousin didn’t sound judgmental; he sounded curious.
I shrugged. “I guess it would make things easier if he didn’t abhor me.”
Now Sean released a scoffing laugh. “Bryan Leech may feel many things about you, but I guarantee none of them are anywhere close to abhorrence. Quite the opposite.”
I breathed out and with the exhale I felt a little—a very little—of my worries depart. Sean wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t soften a blow for the sake of my feelings. I trusted him more than anyone I knew, and if he said Bryan harbored no ill will toward me, then I believed him.
“That’s a relief.”
“Is it?” Sean nudged me with his shoulder.
I nodded, giving my cousin the side-eye. “It is. Raising a child is difficult enough without the parents constantly being at each other’s throats.”
“Ah, yes. A reality which both you and I have a veritable cornucopia of expertise.” He inhaled through his nose, his large chest expanding with the breath. “But, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I was distracted, because at that very moment, Patrick play-tackled Bryan and the big man fell to the ground in a dramatic display. This of course sent Patrick into a fit of giggles.
“What if Bryan wishes for more than co-parenting?”
I turned my head sharply to look at my cousin, the simmering fear rearing its ugly head and twisting my heart. “You mean, what if he wants full custody?” I couldn’t keep the shrieking quality out of my voice.
“Calm down.” Sean held his hands up. “Calm down, that’s not what I meant either. What if Bryan wishes to make the three of you into a family? What if his intentions toward you are of the matrimonial variety?”
My heart twisted again, in a different way but no less uncomfortable. I had to swallow before I could respond. “No.”
“No?”
“No. He doesn’t want that.”
Sean was quiet for a beat, then pushed, “Don’t be so sure.”
I snorted, scoffed, then shook my head. “Come on, Sean. Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? He just found out on Monday that he has a son. He’s just meeting him today.”
“Yes, but I warned you, Bryan is sturdy.”
“Like a table. You won’t let me forget.”
“That’s right. Like a table. Or an exceptionally well-crafted chair. The point is, he wants to be sturdy. For someone.”
“Let him be sturdy for Patrick, then.”
“Being there for Patrick means being there for you. Clearly, he longs for it, for responsibility.”
I shook my head before my cousin finished speaking. “I’m not his responsibility.”
“He may see things differently.”
“He can see them any way he likes, but that doesn’t make it so. Patrick is his. He and Patrick—you were right—they deserve to know each other. But I’m not going to be with someone simply because he’s the father of my child. Patrick shouldn’t be a pawn. I’m not a participation ribbon he gets for having a son.” I swallowed a sudden thickness and crossed my arms. “I deserve better than that.”
“So you do,” Sean quickly agreed, putting his arm around my shoulders and squeezing. “You deserve a prince.”
I didn’t reply, pretending to be too absorbed in the sight of Bryan and Patrick to respond. But what I didn’t say, what I couldn’t give a voice to, what caught in my throat, too heavy with emotion to be spoken out loud, was that I didn’t need a prince.
I’d happily settle for someone who wouldn’t forget me.
13
@THEBryanLeech: If I’d invented jet skis I would’ve called them boatercycles #justsayin
@SeanCassinova to THEBryanLeech: Glad to see you’re spending your free time productively.
*Bryan*
My kid was amazing.
Okay, so I wasn’t sure if it was my own vanity or what, but this surely had to be the best four-year-old in the whole entire world. No other kid could compare. Not ever. I was bloody smitten and it had only been an hour.
I could’ve kicked a ball around with him all day.
I took my phone out for a second to check the time, and his eyes lit up. “Pokémon!” he declared and tried to swipe the phone from me. I held it out of his reach, chuckling.
“Hey now, little thief. Poke-what?”
“Do you have Pokémon? On your phone? Mummy has it but she only lets me play for twenty minutes.”
Finally, I got what he was on about. Even I wasn’t oblivious enough not to have heard of the craze. “No, I don’t have it, but I could get it for you,” I offered, already swiping to the app store to do a search.
“Yes! Get it! I want to find Bulbasaur,” Patrick enthused.
“Oh, no you don’t,” came a sweet yet strict voice. Eilish. I’d been hyper-aware of her watchful eyes, wishing she wouldn’t keep such a distance. As much as I lo
ved spending time with Patrick, it would have been nice for her to be with us, too. Our family.
Yep. That’s right. I was in this thing, balls to walls. This was my family.
“Is he trying to sweet-talk you into letting him play Pokémon on your phone?” she inquired.
I glanced at Patrick. He was shaking his head fervently behind Eilish’s back. Oh man, this kid was hilarious. And a sneak. I couldn’t help laughing. “He might be.”
Patrick scrunched up his face and threw his hands in the air like I was the worst accomplice in the world. I laughed some more. I loved how much personality he had. I didn’t think kids really had much about them until they were at least ten, but I could have whole conversations with Patrick and not get bored. He was like a little person. Well, technically he was a little person, but you know what I mean.
“As soon as he spots a smartphone he pounces,” said Eilish. “He got so addicted to the game I had to start rationing his play time, otherwise he’d happily spend the entire day running around looking for creatures.”
“I’ve found all the ones on our street,” said Patrick proudly. “James from next door has only found three.”
I glanced at Eilish. “I honestly don’t mind him using my phone . . .”
She shook her head. “We have to be getting home soon anyway. It’s almost dinner time.”
“Can Bryan come for dinner?” Patrick asked enthusiastically.
My eyes shot to Eilish, and it was clear Patrick’s request had taken her by surprise. Her eyebrows moved on her forehead as though trying to find equilibrium, and her mouth opened and closed. Even struggling for words this woman was gorgeous.
A tightness, an unexpected vise, constricted my chest, the suddenness of it made it difficult for me to speak, and an awkward silence fell between us.
Clearing my throat, I finally managed, “That’s okay, buddy. Maybe next time.”
“Well, if he doesn’t have other plans,” Eilish said at the same time, surprising me. I was certain she’d been about to come up with an excuse.