Page 54 of Unbound

“He’s hungry,” Sophie mumbles and pulls out a box of pancakes from the cupboard.

She makes pancakes and I sit at the table with my coffee and my cell phone, twirling it in my hand. Pulling up the Garage Bank app, I show it to Lyric to keep him company.

He takes a look at the piano on the screen and presses the white button with a chubby little index finger determined. We play with the app for a while before Sophie sets a plate of pancakes on the table. Taking one from the pile, she sits down next to him blowing on it before breaking off tiny pieces onto his tray.

He looks at the pancake pieces, then to Sophie, then grins at me when I slide my phone away. Focusing on one of the pieces, he picks it up and then shoves it in his mouth, along with his entire fist.

“Wow, he really likes pancakes.”

Sophie laughs when Lyric smacks his hand down on the table making a “Mmmm” sound and trying to grab the plate. He’s got about four small pieces in front of him but he’s like me and sees the whole pancake. He wants that, not the smaller pieces.

“He’s never had pancakes until today,” she tells me, watching him stuff the last four pieces in his mouth. When he’s finished, he licks his whole fist with a big grin.

It’s right then when I glance up at Sophie, both of us smiling at our son experiencing something for the first time, I see what this life with them could be like. Morning breakfast together, parents smiling at one another as their child experiences life and his first moments. In this second, my heart swells at the possibilities to come.

Mom comes up behind us and places three more pancakes on the plate in front of us. My eyes widen slightly when she then puts them on a plate for me. I’ve been home for four days now and I don’t think I’ve eaten this much in the last year.

“Are you going to get fitted today?” Mom asks me, running her hand through my hair as she sits down next to me, her own cup of coffee in hand.

I nod, my eyes on Sophie when I say, “Yeah, I’m gonna swing by there today.”

“Fitted for what?” Sophie asks, breaking off tiny pieces for Lyric as he slaps his hands for more pancake. She looks confused, and I remember I haven’t told her what Red asked me. I wasn’t even sure I told my mom, but maybe I did.

“A tux.”

Silence spreads over the table and we’re locked in a stare, a familiar one. “Lane can’t make it so Red needs me to fill in.”

She sputters on a response as her cheeks warm. “Oh, that’s nice of you.”

I wonder if she realizes I’ll be walking down the aisle with her, in a completely different way I thought I would be. I wonder then how she’s going to feel about it, my hand in hers, together, and if she thinks about what the future means.

When Sophie moves from the table, Mom whispers in my ear, “She looks like you… tired and hurting.”

I could say something to it, I should say something, but I don’t.

I MAKE IT to Franklin’s and get fitted for a tux while everyone else is at work, and then I mess with a few songs I’ve been writing. Before I know it, it’s nearing four and I know I need to get ready to leave for dinner. Sophie sent me a text earlier in the day telling me to meet her at the restaurant since she’d be a little late tonight.

I’m at the restaurant, a corner table near the back when she walks in wearing a dress that clings to her small frame in all the right places. She’s fucking beautiful and I’m immediately reminded why I kept coming back to her all these years.

There’s something off about her, though; it’s in her eyes, which I always notice first. She looks at me when she’s at the table, eyes gliding over my features when she hands me an envelope.

My pulse beats fast. Her blue eyes drift over my face before pausing on my own gaze.

Silent communication between us takes over as I stare at what she handed me.

I know what is it when I read the words. Voluntary Termination of Parental Rights.

Sam. He did this. Or Nick did. Either way, they’re behind it.

I watch her as she sits, trying to mask what’s really going through her head. I want to frame her cheeks and tell her lips this means nothing and it’s all lies. I want to whisper my promise that I wouldn’t, couldn’t do this, assure her I’m in it, but I can’t. I’m frozen in silence.

“What the hell is this, Rawley? Is this what you wanted to talk about tonight? What is this?” she questions again, swallowing hard.

I take a deep breath, feeling like I’m suffocating. “I don’t know. Where did you get it from?”

“I was served with them about twenty minutes ago as I was leaving work. What do you mean, you don’t know?” she questions angrily, ripping the envelope from my hand and points to my name. “It says right here, in not so many words, you’re signing off your parental rights to our son.”

I’m nothing but harsh breaths and silent words, my throat so dry I’m afraid I can’t get what I need out. “I didn’t draw those papers up. I swear.”

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