Page 63 of Love Beyond Repair
The bedtime routine is tiring on your own. I think back to seeing Bex, and I wonder if her husband helps her. I wonder if he’s in the picture at all. But Ollie says that Liam doesn’t have a father, so maybe she’s doing this all on her own.
Exhaustion hits, and I decide to go to bed. My dreams are filled with old images of past lovers and little black-haired boys with bright-blue eyes. There’s a nervous sensation in my belly that won’t go away. The ridiculous conclusions I’m jumping to become more believable as each hour passes since I reconnected with Bex today.
I wake in the early hours, sweat pouring off my brow. I calculate the years. Liam is in the same class as Ollie, but depending on his birthday, they could be up to twelve months apart in age. When was the last time I saw Bex?
You slept with her the last time you saw her, you idiot. Then you ran out in the morning, never to return.
But when was that?
Kelsey was pregnant with Ollie, I think. My brain hurts from trying to retrieve the information I need. Yes, I’m sure Kelsey was pregnant. Liam is around the same age, with blue eyes and black hair. Shit, could he be mine?
But surely Terry would have told me? Then again, if Bex had asked him not to or just never admitted who the boy’s father was, maybe he wouldn’t. We’ve never discussed Bex. I consider calling Terry now, but the clock is blinking that it’s three in the morning.
I’ve left Bex twice. Once when I chose comfort over courage. And again, when I let silence stretch between us after reconnecting. She gave me a piece of her, and I walked away. What kind of man does that?
Settling back on my pillow, I tell myself I’ll ask her tomorrow. Directly. No third-party interference. No excuses. If he’s mine, I’ll be his father. Maybe the old Ben would’ve walked away, ran even. But that man—the man who failed her—he’s not who Bex or Liam needs. If I can support them, if he is my son. I’ll do everything in my power to be there.
The next morning, I arrive at the school and drop Ollie off ten minutes early. I sit and watch everyone else arrive. Children are being herded by harassed parents from cars, bundled into jackets, and pushed through the school doors. The tiny people carry bags the same size as them, filled with books and pencils.
I’m watching a large lady with four small children. She’s extracting them from her car and lining them up military style before distributing their equipment for the day, when I spot Liam. But it’s not his mother walking him to school.It’s Amy.
Suddenly, I’m furious. Somewhere beneath it, though, there’s fear. Because if I’m right, I’ve already failed him, and that is never the father I thought I was. As a partner, a husband, I’ve fallen short time and again, but as a dad, I always thought I did well. Better than well, good, great actually. My kids want for nothing, and I always have time to spend with them. If Liam is mine, I can no longer placate myself with believing that is true.
Amy kisses her nephew on the cheek and turns back the way she came. I run after her, catching her within seconds. She’s shocked by my sudden appearance at her shoulder.
“What the hell, Ben? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she says, flashing me an annoyed look.
“Amy, why didn’t you tell me about Liam?” My voice is loaded. I’m bracing for the answer I don’t want. She looks away, guilt already etched on her face.
“It was none of your business.” She lifts her head and sticks her chin out defiantly. “Last time I checked, you were married.”
My eyes flare, and I glare at her. “When was he born?” She ignores the question and keeps walking. “Is he mine?” She stops and turns to face me, then takes a step forward, standing on her tiptoes so we are nose to nose.
“No, Ben, he’s not yours. He’s not anyone’s. He doesn’t have a father. He’s Bex’s son, and she’s an incredible mother. Leave her alone.” Her voice is shrill, furious.
Amy stalks off toward a white 4x4 parked by the curb, flinging open the driver’s door as she jumps in. I yank open the passenger door and climb in next to her.
“You fucking know what I mean,” I growl. “Is he mine, Amy? He’s my spitting image. He could be Ollie’s twin.” My voice breaks halfway through. Because if she says yes, then I missed everything. His first word. Every good night. Every scraped knee. She sits there, hands in her lap, tears running down her face.
“It’s not my place to say.” Her eyes are red, weeping. “Please, Ben. Just leave it. You don’t want to open this can of worms. Think of Kelsey and your children.”
I throw open the car door, almost knocking a man off his bike as I jump out. He starts shouting at me. Amy takes her chance to bolt. Leaning over and slamming the door closed, she drives off.
I stand there on the curb, stunned. The ache of the missing answer settles deep in my chest. I know the answer. I knew it as soon as I saw Liam that first day.
There was an unmistakable familiarity, then, when I saw his mother, it all fell into place. The reality is, I left Bex once, then again. And now there’s a child I might’ve abandoned too. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I can’t live with not knowing.
It's time for me to step up and ask the difficult questions.
Chapter thirty-two
Bex
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Amy bursts through my front door in a panic. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs. In a rush to get to her, I trip over Liam’s toy truck. I fly and land in the middle of my hallway, splayed out like a starfish.
“Fuck. That hurt,” I snap. “What the hell are you shouting about?”
