Page 75 of Forced Marriage Vows

My chest threatens to explode at the sound of the word “daddy.”

“Of course, honey,” Sierra tells him, letting go of his hand.

“Before we have the tour, there’s someone you have to meet,” I tell him, looking at my wife. She immediately steps forward. There’s a slight sheen to her eyes as she leans down beside me. “Jalen, this is Anastasia. She’s my wife.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jalen. You can call me Ana. I think we’re going to be pretty good friends.”

“I like friends,” my son states. “Hi, Ana. Now the tour.”

He’s a little bossy. Definitely my kid. I chuckle as I stand up, and when I offer my hand, he accepts it without hesitation, wrapping his entire fist around two of my fingers.

I feel grateful that Sierra decided to bring him to me at a time when he wasn’t old enough to have noticed my absence. If she had waited longer, he could have grown to resent me.

But now I have the chance to build a relationship with him. One I can be proud of.

“You two enjoy the tour. Sierra and I will have some drinks while we wait for you,” Anastasia says, urging us along.

Sierra nods in agreement and I’m glad she seems to trust me. Which is necessary if we’re going to have a successful co-parenting relationship.

Our first stop is my bedroom, which has a carefully placed puzzle set where he can’t miss it. His eyes brighten as soon as he steps through the door.

“Puzzle,” he exclaims, immediately heading for the box filled with two-hundred pieces.

His mom told me he’s recently developed the habit of taking puzzles apart and putting them together. I knew I had to see it for myself. Plus, it’s the perfect way to bond.

“You wanna put it together?” I ask.

He doesn’t even reply, sitting on the floor and trying to take the box apart. And failing, his small hands struggling to rip it open. I guess we’re doing this on the floor, then. I settle down in front of him, gently coaxing the box from him. A couple minutes later, we’re putting together the face of some cartoon mutant turtle Anastasia insisted we buy.

Jalen’s excited. He tells me about some of the friends he plays with and his grandmother, who he seems to absolutely adore, while we put the pieces together. He’s extremely intuitive, in a way that I’m sure is pretty advanced for a three-year-old. His mom was right about him being smart.

“Do you have a grandma?” he asks when we’re midway through finishing the puzzle.

“Do I have a mother? Like how your grandmother is your mother’s mother?” I question.

Jalen blinks. “Yeah, that,” he says in agreement.

I grin, messing up the front of his hair with my hand.

“My mother isn’t here anymore, son,” I tell him softly. “But you have a grandpa. My dad. You’ll meet him soon.”

“A grandpa,” he says, a note of wonder in his voice.

There’s no way of telling how my father will react to the news that he has a grandson, but I want to believe he’ll see this as an opportunity to do the right thing for once. It might be too late to repair our relationship, but he could try to be better for Jalen.

“You also have an uncle,” I state. “His name’s Anthony. But you can call him Uncle Ant. He’s Anastasia’s brother.”

“Ants are bugs,” Jalen states, wrinkling his nose.

“This Ant is a doofus,” I say, chuckling. “But I promise you’ll like him. He’s excited to meet you.”

“Cool.”

We finish our puzzle in under one hour. Jalen’s hungry, so we pop back into the living room to see what the women are up to. They’re in the middle of preparing lunch. Jalen and I help set the table. It’s nice, getting to enjoy a meal together.

I do the dishes after and Sierra offers to help, which tells me she wants to discuss something about Jalen. Anastasia gets the cue, ushering him toward the living room.

“Come on, Jalen. It’s my turn to hang out with you,” she tells him. “Do you like cartoons?”

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