Page 101 of Conception
“She did. Or, well, she thought she did anyways. Grams knew of your family. Of course she did. But she couldn’t find any listing information for your home, so we assumed your family was unlisted. She eventually found the mailing address for your dad’s company. It didn’t even cross my mind that there were two of you, even though she had told me. Pregnancy brain or something. Anyway, I was about six months along when I finally wrote to you….” She trails off, and if it weren’t for the bundle in my arms, I’d reach across and take her hand.
“I never got get a letter from you,” I repeat. “I swear it. I would’ve been here in a heartbeat if I’d known. I never would have left you to go through this alone.”
I never should have left in the first place. Not that I tell her that. Not yet.
She exhales, sending a loose tendril flying up. Then it settles onto her cheek. “Well. That’s a bummer. I kind of poured my heart out in that letter. When I never heard from you, I figured…”
“You figured I didn’t care. That I wanted nothing to do with either of you.” The words are a knife to my gut. How could she think that? After everything we shared last summer, even if it was supposed to be purely physical, I thought she knew me. How could she think I’d be the guy to abandon her, to not accept responsibility?
Her eyes fill with pain. That same pain burns deep at the thought of her doing this on her own. That she thought I’d gotten her pregnant then abandoned her when she needed me the most. I’m fucking sick to my stomach thinking about it. The acid burning in my belly seeps into my blood, and that sickness twists into fury. For about the tenth time tonight, I want to slam my fists into something until they bleed, hurting on the outside as much as I do in my core.
“We had a plan and we stuck to it. Leave it up to fate.”
I scoff. “It was a dumb plan and you know it. We both do. We were more than friends when I left here last summer, Amelia.”
She turns her watery attention to Branson. “I know. It was a stupid plan. But it doesn’t matter anymore. This little guy just had different plans for us. It’s not your fault, Knox, any more than it’s mine.”
Not my fault? Of course it’s not my fucking fault. I want to rail, yet I know I can’t. If we’re going to get past this (which I really fucking want to) and move on (again, really fucking want to), then I have to maintain my composure and deal with the fact that I wasn’t here, but I also have to make sure I’m never away from either of them again.
Instead of following that train of thought, I wonder what the hell happened with her mysterious letter. If she sent it to the company, there’s no way it should’ve gotten lost. I mean, sure, the interns in the mailroom might be slow at their jobs, but missing mail has never been a thing. If it’s addressed to Knox Wellington, it comes across one of two desks. Mine or…
Oh. Shit.
When it dawns on me, I nearly burst into laughter. Confusion crosses Amelia’s face though. I don’t know how this story turned into a mix of both Shakespearean tragedy and comedy, but I hope beyond measure we haven’t screwed up the possibility of happily ever after.
“You said three months ago, right?”
She nods, and I trace back, doing the math in my head.
“God fucking dammit.”
Her lips quirk up into a smile. “What was that you said about watching that mouth?”
The fact that she’s joking with me is a damn good sign. I glance down at my son then look back to her with a grin. “Hey, it’s not like he can repeat the words any time soon. I have some time to tame my tongue.”
“That’s true. Although, with your filthy mouth, you might want to start practicing as soon as possible.”
I wink. “And you would know all about my filthy mouth, wouldn’t you?”
“Would we be here if I didn’t?”
Touché. I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that. She sounds like she’s teasing, yet there’s a hint of resignation in her tone. So, instead of trying to decipher her words, I continue.
“Anyways, the letter. I think I know what happened. You’re going to laugh…” I trail off when she pushes herself up on the bed, wincing in the process. “You okay? Fuck…I mean, hell. I mean, dang, I didn’t think about the actual delivery. Fu—freaking selfish of me. How are you feeling?”
I can’t believe I haven’t even asked her that. In the whirlwind of the last ten or so minutes, it didn’t even cross my mind to ask about the delivery, let alone the pregnancy. Was everything okay? Were there any complications? When the hell is his birthday?
Amelia must see the wheels turning in my brain. “Knox, calm down. We can talk about the delivery and everything else later. Tell me about why you think you didn’t receive the letter and why you think I’ll laugh. Because trust me, the last thing I wanted to do the last few months was laugh.”
Fuck. I want to apologize again, even if I’ve done nothing wrong. Instead, I sit back, gently bouncing Branson, and tell Amelia all about the hell that nearly broke loose in my house a few months ago.
“I don’t know everything, just the little bit Clay was able to get out of my mom. Long story short, a letter came across my father’s desk. His secretary, Lynn, generally screens his mail. Since she’s more loyal to my mom than my dad, she called Mom about this particular one…”
Amelia leans forward, listening intently as I recall the story as Clay told it. Mom didn’t even question the validity of the letter. She didn’t have to. She and Dad have been happily married for decades, and there’s no chance he’d step out on her. What she wanted to get to the bottom of was who was trying to extort my dad and what exactly did she want. Unfortunately, there was no return address, and they decided just to wait it out. To see if anything else came of it. Apparently, none of them even thought for a second that it could’ve been their son to knock a girl up and not come up to scratch.
When I get to the part about Mom saying that even though she’s old enough to be a grandma, the only person having my dad’s babies is her, Amelia cracks up.
“Stop, stop! I shouldn’t be laughing at this. I should be outraged. That letter was for your eyes only! Oh my god. If your mother ever finds out that the ‘hussy’ is me, I’ll never live it down!”
