Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
He swipes at his face, smearing the tears slipping quietly down his cheeks. “How can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Say nice things about her? She never says anything nice about you. You’re always the villain or the fool. She made your kid think you were pathetic and embarrassing.” He hitches in a breath. “And yeah, that orange shirt you were wearing at my party was awful, but you’re not pathetic. And you’re not a bad guy, not even close. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just so fucking sorry.”
I’m not sure who moves first, him or me, but we meet in the middle, standing beside the island, hugging each other tight. He’s still a couple inches shorter than I am, but so much broader than the last time I held him. He’s really a man now, a fact he’s proven this morning.
“It’s okay, son,” I say to the top of his head, the one I used to love kissing when he napped on my chest as a baby. “I love you, Adrian. I always have and I always will. It’s not too late. We can make things right. No doubt in my mind.”
“I want that,” he says, sniffing. “But fuck, Dad. I have no idea how to be a good son, let alone a good father. And Gigi didn’t answer my texts this morning about the paternity test. I’m afraid she’s going to push me out of her life entirely, and I’ll never know if the baby is mine.”
I pull back, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Give her time. Maybe she’s just scared and overwhelmed.” I pause, choosing my words carefully before I add, “And if she refuses to take the test, that’s a pretty strong sign that she doesn’t think the results will be what you want them to be.”
He swipes at his face again with a grunt. “Yeah. You’re probably right, but still…I want to know. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be a dad before this, but if that’s my kid, I don’t want to let them down.”
“Then you won’t,” I say, prouder of him than I’ve been in a long time. “You’ve shown you can accomplish anything you set your mind to, Adrian. This won’t be any different, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”
His lips twitch at the edges. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re going to be in the city more. Maybe we could hang out sometimes. Do lame father-son shit.”
“You mean kick-ass father-son shit,” I say, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as I release him. “I could give you cleaning tips and you can help me avoid embarrassing party outfits.”
He rolls his eyes. “You weren’t really embarrassing. My friend, Summer, actually thought you were hot. It was gross.”
I pull in a breath to agree with him but stop myself. Adrian’s here being honest with me. Don’t I owe him the same? I’m not about to out Sydney right now, but when we’re ready to come forward, I don’t want Adrian to have any contradictory information out of my own mouth to use against me.
“Well, maybe not so gross,” I say gently. “I did become a father when I was very young.”
Adrian snorts. “Not that young. Summer’s a freshman at NYU. She’s one of the kids I’m mentoring for the DJ stuff.”
Pride swelling in my chest again, I agree, “Yeah, that’s way too young. But I’m proud of you. It’s great to hear that you’re giving back.”
“I’m not always a spoiled brat,” he says with a self-deprecating grin. “Just with you, Pops and…I’m going to do better with that. I don’t know why it took my girlfriend getting pregnant to make me put myself in your shoes, but it did. I guess it’s like my friend Sydney says, I need to practice using my empathy muscle more often.” Before I can recover from the shock of hearing Sydney’s name on his lips, he adds with a sigh, “Which reminds me, I owe her an apology. She was the one who told me I should talk to you yesterday. When it didn’t go well, I…kind of gave her shit about it. Shit she absolutely didn’t deserve. She’s one of the best people I know. Always ready to drop everything for a friend.” He pauses, considering me out of the corners of his eyes, making my anxiety spike higher. “You’d probably like her. She’s more of a grown-up than the rest of us hooligans. Probably because her mom died when she was young, and she practically had to raise herself. Her dad sounds like a huge dick.”
“Parental relationships can be hard,” I say, torn between the voice in my head screaming that I have to come clean—he mentioned Sydney by name and she’s literally hiding under my table right now—and the certainty that this isn’t the time. “I still don’t talk to your grandma more than once or twice a year. She never forgave me for losing physical custody of her only grandson. She warned me not to let your mom leave the city with you, but I was young and naïve and thought I knew Angela better than she did.”