Page 65 of Love Beyond Repair
The waiter appears, and Ben orders a green tea. He looks incredible, dressed sharply in a plain white t-shirt and jeans, his hair messed up in a just-got-out-of-bed look. Even though he appears furious, there’s something underneath. An uncertainty. Tiredness. Like someone realizing what they lost.
“Thanks for coming to meet me,” I say timidly, and his eyes narrow.
“Had little choice, did I?” he snarls. “You turn up almost six years since I last saw you, with my son.” He rubs his hand across his forehead, trying to calm himself. His vein throbs in his throat, the pace slowing as we sit, silent.
“Bex, is he mine?” he says after a few minutes of neither of us knowing what to say. I gape, dumbfounded, then my anger erupts. The urge to punch him surges so hard I almost swing.
“Are you fucking serious?” I hiss. “Of course he’s yours. Have you seen him? He’s your bloody double.” My face flushes red, and I scrunch my hands into fists. “Ben, I knowthis is a shock, but Liam is your son. You’re his father. No one else.”
My chair scrapes back as I bolt upright, desperate to get out. This was a bad idea. Ben rises, sensing my instinct to run, and he places a hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But how can you be sure he’s mine, Bex? We both know you weren’t in a good place back then. Let’s talk. For Liam’s sake. If he is my son, I want to be in his life.”
He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself.“ I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you,” he adds more softly. “But I need a chance to fix this. Even if it’s just one hour a week. Even if you hate me.”
Still standing, I walk around the table until I am facing him. Tears fill my eyes. “He’s yours, Ben. You were the only one.”
And there it is. The truth I’ve been burying. It’s out in the wild. My revelation leaves him shocked and open-mouthed. His voice drops. Raw. Broken. His whole body slumps like he’s finally run out of fight.
“You are the only man who could be Liam’s father.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. He’s searching my face for something, a lie maybe, a truth. But he knows it, all of it. I fell pregnant that night we reunited; he walked in one direction, while I took his son in another. He takes a breath.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve known. I should’ve come after you. I didn’t just fail you, Bex. I failed him.” He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t deflect. He just takes it, and the responsibility lands on his shoulders with a thud. We return to our seats. My heart rate slows, and we discuss the practicalities. Ben needs time with his son, and Liam with his father. I worry for my little boy. There’s only ever been him and me. Now he will have a father, two sisters, and a brother.
I want this to be good. I want Ben to step up, but part of me is braced for disappointment. And maybe part of him is too. I pray it’s a gift, not a rupture. I pray Liam’s little mind can cope with this.
Chapter thirty-three
Ben
I sit on my sofa waiting for the doorbell. The clock on the wall ticks slowly as it hits four minutes past one. They were meant to be here at one. Where are they? It’s less than five minutes late, I scold myself. Relax. She’s coming. She’ll bring him.
It’s been a week since Bex and I met at the cafe to discuss Liam’s ongoing arrangements. Since then, we’ve started easing into something that looks a little like it could become co-parenting. After school visits. Playground drop-offs. Ollie tagging along every time, none thewiser.
Neither of the boys know they’re brothers. That truth still feels too sharp, too soon. Bex and I agreed we would give everyone involved time to breathe before dropping that bombshell.
Liam’s a bright and cheerful little boy. Bex has brought him up to be polite but confident. He’s happy to give his opinion when he gets to know you, and he plays well with Ollie.
The doorbell rings. Before I can reach the door, Ollie skids across the floor and throws himself at it.
“It’s locked,” he calls over his shoulder.
I flick the latch, and Ollie yanks the door open.
“Liam,” he squeals, immediately lunging forward and gripping his friend in a bear hug. He grabs his hand and pulls him inside, rattling off all the games he plans to play. Bex stands silently beside her son, shuffling from foot to foot; she’s clearly as nervous as I am.
“Hi,” I say, my voice softer than I expect. It’s all I can think to say; there’s no manual for this situation.
“Hi,” she replies with a quick smile. “Liam’s been bouncing off the walls all morning. He’s so excited.”
“Oliver too.”
She laughs. And that familiar ache I’ve learned to bury pulses in my chest. Before either of us can say anything, the two boys vanish down the hall toward Ollie’s bedroom. The door slams closed, and pictures vibrate against the wall. We both flinch and then smile.
Bex glances over my shoulder into the apartment, before she drops her eyes as if caught snooping.
“You can come in too. If you want,” I say. “I’d like you to see where he’ll be.” I step back, holding the door wider in an attempt to welcome her into my home. She hesitates. “He’s your world. I want you to know he’s safe with me.”
