Give Me You (37 page)

T
he first time I meet my son, I’m speechless.

And everything Landen said makes sense. And nothing makes sense. And this child is perfect and I am not worthy.

Deborah Kensington doesn’t take her eyes off Corin or me from the moment we enter her home. Christian sits on a blanket in the middle of the room surrounded by bright colorful toys of all shapes and sizes.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, squatting down to his level. “What you got there?”

He smiles at me and resumes playing with a puzzle made of wooden pieces shaped like trains. I help place one of the pieces and he hands me another.

No questions. No ‘who the hell is this guy touching my puzzle like he owns the place?’ Just acceptance.

Once he’s finished his puzzle, I hand over a stuffed giraffe and ask if he’d like to go to the zoo and see a real one. He looks at Deb, who nods, before he grins at me and says, “raffe.”

He’s older than the picture I have, slightly less baby fat and more like a miniature version of me. The shape of his nose and face are more like Fallon’s and his skin tone is closer to hers. But the hair, the eyes, and the shit-eating grin are all me.

My son. I can’t even.

“His diaper bag is packed. We’re working on potty training but we aren’t quite there yet,” she tells us. “Do you have a car seat or do you need to borrow one of ours?”

“I have one,” I tell her. “We picked it up yesterday. Corin researched, it’s got the highest safety rating—”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she bites out.

I stand, ready to deal with the hostility in her tone before it becomes upsetting for Christian, but Corin steps between us.

“I never got to say how sorry I was about your loss,” Corin tells Deborah. “I only met Fallon once but she was beautiful. And I imagine this feels a bit like losing her all over again. I hope you know we’re not trying to hurt anyone, least of all Christian. But Skylar deserves to know his son and Christian deserves to know his father. Don’t you agree?”

I clench my jaw in preparation for a hateful answer but Deborah’s shoulders sag as if she’s just too exhausted to argue.

“I do,” she relents. “My husband never wanted kids and isn’t exactly thrilled about raising another one.”

You didn’t
raise
the first one, I want to say. You abandoned her. But I bite my tongue because Fallon’s fight is finished and rehashing it now won’t help anyone.

“So then why are you fighting me, Deb? If Jack doesn’t even want full custody, why are we about to go through a major trial?”

Tears spring to Deborah’s eyes. “I lost my baby, Skylar. And not just when she died, but when she was younger and I couldn’t reach her. She shut me out and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought it was teen angst or a phase she’d outgrow.”

There is a small measure of sympathy swelling in my chest, but not much. Very small, because I know Fallon did try to tell her parents what had happened to her as a kid, what she could remember of it. But they didn’t want to hear it. So she shut them out. She shut everyone out for the most part.

“I understand that it hurts,” I tell her. “But as a parent who lost their child, how can you try to deprive me of mine? Three years, Deb. For three years I’ve missed everything. I can’t get that time back. How do you think that feels?”

“I wasn’t trying to deprive you of anything,” she answers while drying her tears. “Not intentionally. Fallon said you wouldn’t want him. She said you’d be mad and you might not even remember being with her that night. She was strung out or in rehab most of the time, Skylar. The doctor’s didn’t know if he’d develop correctly or have issues. You were just starting a professional soccer career. I know you’re angry, but at the time, it felt right. It felt like my second chance to do right by my daughter.”

I glance over at my son who looks perfectly healthy. “Are there? Any developmental issues I should know about?”

Deb shakes her head. “Not that we can tell. Possibly a slight speech delay but the doctors say that’s common among kids and nothing to worry about.”

I actually had that too. But once I started talking, my sister said I never shut up.

“Any food or other allergies we should know about?” Corin inquires from beside me.

“Not that we know of,” Deb answers, looking mildly impressed that Corin thought to ask. “He won’t eat eggs or anything green, but again, the doctors say that could just be a normal childhood aversion.”

It feels like a window is open, one in which I can get through to Deb without judges or lawyers in the way so I plead my case.

“I know my career is demanding and requires a great deal of international travel, but I’ve spoken with my coaches and coordinators and the league has some of the best tutors and teachers available. I’ll have a personal assistant as well as my mom or my sister with me year-round,” I tell her. “Christian will have every advantage I can give him and I’ll buy a house here in California for the off-season. I have a condo with plenty of room for him in Vancouver. I don’t want to cut you out, Deb. I swear I don’t. But you’re his grandma not his mom. He’s my son and I’m the one who should be raising him. If I get overwhelmed or something comes up, it’d be nice to know I could call you. That we could be on friendly terms and that every mistake I make won’t be held against me in a court of law.”

It’s too much too soon and I can see it on her face.

“I’m sorry to drop all of that on you at my first visitation,” I say quickly. “I just want you to think about it, okay? I’m not the irresponsible kid you knew years ago. I’m a man and I’m trying to be the best one that I can.”

She nods. “I know. I appreciate that. Let’s just see how visitation goes for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you for letting me take him today. We’re going to the zoo downtown and then to dinner at my parents’ house. I’ll have him back by eight, as agreed upon. You have both of our cell numbers.”

“Enjoy your visit,” Deb says on our way out.

I can hear how much effort it takes her to say that. So I meet her eyes and smile and say, “Thank you.”

My son loves elephants. His eyes nearly double in size when he sees them. We use our arms to mimic trunks and I am officially the most hilarious man on the planet.

He also loves trains. There is a small train you can ride through the zoo and we ride it a dozen times before we leave.

Corin brought her fancy camera and takes several pictures of us, some posed and some candid I catch her taking when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Around five in the evening, Christian yawns in his stroller and says “hungry.”

Corin retrieves a bag of dry cereal from her purse and offers it to him. He polishes it off and eats the fruit snacks she offers as well. I didn’t realize she was a walking vending machine. We buy him an apple juice in a souvenir elephant cup and make our way toward the exit.

“How did you know to bring snacks?”

Corin shrugs. “I take eight hours of back to back classes most days. I always have snacks in my purse. Figured this might be a long day for him so I grabbed what I had.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. “For coming today and for thinking of snacks. And for…”

She raises an inquisitive eyebrow while she waits for me to find the words.

“For being you. For not bailing on me when you would’ve been completely justified in pounding sand.”

She nudges me gently. “Well…you’re really hot and pretty decent in the sack. And I’ve already invested all this times in you and it’d take forever to train someone else so…”

I chuckle low beside her. “Just decent, huh? I’ll have to see what I can do to up my rating later.”

Corin blushes and shakes her head. I never would’ve called her maternal before, or thought a woman bending over strapping a kid into a car seat was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen, yet I’m practically drooling on her when she does it.

“I thought I would be bad at this,” I admit as Corin and I sit with Christian, who’s happily eating cut up fruit, pasta salad, and grilled chicken strips at my parents’ house.

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Why would you think that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t that big on kids before, I guess. I mean, I’ve coached them at soccer clinics and stuff but…”

“It’s different when it’s your kid,” she tells me.

That it is. Much different than I ever could’ve imagined. A part of me is more relaxed than I’ve ever been, just enjoying this time watching my family interact with my son. But another part of me is on high alert, as if danger is lurking around every corner.

The zoo was a strange brand of tortuous fun. Wild animals, gorilla pits, child abductors. Apparently fatherhood is feeling like you might have to take a bullet any second to protect your child and you would, happily, if it meant preventing any harm to a single hair on their head.

Corin chats easily with Christian, discussing the animals we’ve seen and the noises they make and a circus parade she saw once. My family completely realigns during and after dinner, with Christian being the new center of the universe. He’s like the sun, or gravity. Every move he makes, someone claps or laughs or comments. Even my dad seems to get a kick out of making him smile. Watching him here, I know for certain for the first time, that he belongs with me.

I feel a sense of relief at how smoothly our first visit went. And I don’t want to take my son back to the Kensingtons.

“He likes being the center of attention,” I comment to Corin as my son eats up the affections of every adult in the room.

“Hmm…wonder where he gets that from?” She winks at me, but it’s true. I like attention. Sue me.

“Guess I better get used to being second fiddle, because there’s a much better looking sheriff in town, huh?”

Corin nods. “Looks like. Don’t worry, I still love you.”

I kiss her on the cheek. “Thank goodness for that.”

On the drive back to my parents’ after we’ve dropped Christian off, Corin touches my arm before I hit the interstate.

“Could we stay at my place tonight?”

I nod. “Of course. You okay?”

She smiles and the soft glow of interior lights gleams against her bright white teeth. “Better than.”