Page 33 of Inevitably Yours

“Yep. But I loved every second of it. And as time went on and I watched the outline of his tiny hands and feet push against Deborah’s skin, I realized I couldn’t love him more than I already did. He had yet to draw breath, but he was already my son. A life I created and would be responsible for. A person who held my heart in that tiny hand, and once it was there, it would remain forever.”

The darkness was damn near visible to John as it crept in and stole the happy memories right from his heart.

“It was a cloudy Tuesday morning when her water broke. On the drive to the hospital, I was babbling on about ‘my son this’ and ‘my son that.’ I probably should have been more concerned with helping her breathe or something, but I was so focused on little Troy, that’s how I thought of him. When we arrived at the hospital, we argued about how to enter. I wanted to pull up at emergency and shout she was having a baby, and she wanted a more dignified entrance.”

Pausing yet again, John tilted his head simply to ground himself by looking at the beautiful woman resting her head on his shoulder. “We settled on parking outside of admittance. I went in for a wheelchair while she made all the phone calls alerting her family she was in labor. As I pushed her toward the front entrance, I asked her a question I had been dying to, if his middle name could be Troy. That is the last untainted thought I had about my son, his mother, and the whole damn experience.”

A familiar wave of anger crashed over him. “She asked why she would do that. Before I formed a pitch, we had entered the lobby and were at the admittance desk. She was signing papers, and they put that plastic bracelet on her wrist. Things were moving in slow motion but also way too fast. When the nurse came around to wheel her to labor and delivery, she asked if I was the father. I opened my mouth to answer, proudly proclaim to the world that I was, when a cruel, ‘No, he’s not,’ cut me to my very soul.”

Augusta awkwardly leaned around and took John’s cheeks in her hands. She looked like she wanted to speak, but she remained silent. Instead, she kissed him—a closed mouth kiss with tears raining down onto their joined lips. They stayed that way for a while, until John pulled his lips back, knowing he had to finish.

“She then reached back for the baby bag, which I let go of easily. I don’t know how I didn’t drop it. She spoke an apology, but her face didn’t hold any sorrow whatsoever. When she turned back to the nurse, she asked that I be excluded from the delivery room. The nurse seemed more apologetic than Deborah, but that was it. It was over, except it wasn’t. It would never be over for me.”

“Of course not, how could it be over for you. You’re his father, are you fighting for custody? I don’t understand, how…oh.” It was written on her face the moment she comprehended that biologically, it wasn’t his son.

“Exactly, I was not his father, biologically anyway. I proved that with a court-ordered DNA test, but I didn’t need it. The moment I saw him through the security glass, I knew he was not the child of my body, but he was, is, the child of my heart. I was there for every moment of the pregnancy. I was there when his eyes formed and when his hands grew fingers. It was me,” John thumped his chest, “me, who touched his hand through the barrier of skin. Me. I was the first to hear his heartbeat and see him hiccup on the monitor. Me. I was the voice who spoke to him each day and sang to him each night. He was mine. And until the day I leave this Earth, he will be my son. I don’t care who raises him, whose DNA made him, or what anyone says, he will always be my son. Even though he will never know a thing about me.”

It had been a while since John had cried, even longer since he had done so in front of another person. The next words out of Augusta’s perfectly pouty lips almost crushed him and left him weightless at the same time.

“I understand now. Your actions make perfect sense. I just wish I would’ve understood earlier. Just because my brain comprehends it now, my heart still bore the pain.” She released his jaw after what felt like an eternity and leaned back against him. “Not that I’m blaming you or want you to feel bad, but we still experienced what we experienced no matter the reasoning. I know things changed after, well after.” She waved her hand toward the bed. “But we were friends before, and I can’t help but be a little hurt that you didn’t trust in that enough to at least let me know there was a reason for the distance you put between us. I’m sorry, I hope that doesn’t hurt you, but I want to be honest.”

And there it was, the pressure, the guilt, the loss of control. He had to tell her he didn’t think he could see her through the rest of her pregnancy or be present when she gave birth or maybe even after. There was a lot of uncertainty. Maybe he could do it; maybe he couldn’t. Either way, he needed her to understand he didn’t know yet. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She tensed beside him. Familiar with the way her mind worked, he had a pretty good idea what was coming. He knew the burning question she had, one he feared she already suspected the answer to, one that would change things for them. No doubt, she could deal with his absence during the pregnancy. If she thought that’s what he needed, she wouldn’t deny it, even if she hated it. What she couldn’t deal with was him kissing her when it wasn’t truly about her, just him getting caught up in that moment, needing to prove to her she belonged to him when in his mind, he didn’t belong to her yet.

Of course, that changed for him the minute he laid her on the bed. He solidified her ownership of him with each glimpse of her body he revealed. Because for a woman like Augusta, every inch of skin correlated to a piece of her heart and a bit of her soul.

What would she say when she learned why he came over and why he allowed himself to make love to her. Sure, the outcome was pleasantly unexpected, what with him admitting his feelings for her to himself and entertaining a more permanent possibility, but it was his motive that would devastate her.

“I accept everything you’ve shared with me tonight and your past’s place in the decisions you have made. I can even accept that sharing doesn’t equal acceptance and coping, and that in my current condition, that is an issue we will have to address. Those things I understand, but I need to ask a question, and I can accept any answer if it is one hundred percent honest. No matter how bad you think it will hurt me, okay?”

And here it comes. John braced himself.

“Why did you choose to make love to me…now?” Even though he was expecting it, the punch to his heart was painful and caught him by surprise.

John was an asshole, but he wasn’t a deceptive one. He would have to tell Augusta that he came over because he thought she could do casual. He had no intention of sleeping with her but had to erase all thoughts of her going out with another.

Basically, I marked my territory like an animal, and she is not the kind of woman to just accept that.Hell, he wouldn’t be in love with her if she were.

Before he spoke, he studied her features. He needed to remember this last unspoiled moment, because once he answered this question, there would be a scar between them—a dirty, ugly scar, one he hoped would fade and be virtually unnoticeable with time.

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