3. Three

Three

Carson

I disconnect the call. Text my address to Anna, and hand the phone back to Connor—my son.

"Your Mom is on her way. It's about a three-hour drive. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." He practically jumps out of the chair and turns to face me. He's tall. As I look at him, I feel my throat tighten with emotion. Anna didn't deny that he is my son. She also didn't confirm it. But as my eyes meet his, it's uncanny. It's as if my own reflection is staring back at me from a younger time.

I suddenly reach out, grab his shoulders, and pull him toward me. I think I startled him as I feel him stiffen, but then, as my arms wrap around him, he sags against my chest. I continue to hug him to me tightly. I feel like the Grinch as I swear my heart expands to three times its size.

We stand like that for a few minutes. Finally, I loosen my hold, and he steps back. I pretend not to see the sheen in his eyes. My own are suspiciously wet, as well. I reach out and purposely ruffle his hair, something I hated my parents to do. I do it just to break the poignancy of the moment. It works as he gives a lopsided grin and ducks back out of reach.

"Come on, let's go grab a burger," I say with a grin.

As we walk past my admin's desk, Suzanne looks up curiously. Her wide eyes go from me to the preteen at my side. I'm not ready yet to discuss this with anyone. It's too new, too personal, too overwhelming.

I keep my face blank as I say, "I'll need you to cancel my appointments for today." I stop and glance over at Connor. "Actually, I'll need you to cancel everything for the rest of the week."

She nods like the request is not that unusual and offers me a small smile. "Of course, Carson. I'll ensure you're not disturbed for the rest of the week."

"Thanks. We're going to lunch now, and I won't be back this afternoon. I'll give you a call tomorrow to discuss my schedule. Thanks, Suzanne."

"Carson, please don't worry about a thing. Nothing is pressing that I or your brothers can't handle." I nod my thanks as Connor follows me into the elevator.

I drive to a restaurant near the office that's known for its burgers. Once we get in the car, Connor stows his backpack in the backseat. As I drive out of the parking garage, Connor looks around the interior of the car.

"Nice ride," he says lightly.

I grin, "Thanks."

We walk into the restaurant and take a seat. When the waitress comes around, Connor orders a double cheeseburger with fries and a soda.

"I'll take the same but with onion rings and an iced tea," I say as I hand her the menus.

After the waitress leaves, Connor puts his elbows on the table and props up his chin as he looks around, then glances back at me like he doesn't quite know what to say.

"So, tell me about yourself. How's school? What type of sports are you into?" I smile as that seems to be all the incentive he needs.

He grins and starts slowly, but soon, he's talking quickly as he starts to open up.

"My friend Jeff, he's back in Lauderdale. He and I used to shoot hoops after school. Next year, I'll be in Junior High, but in Orlando."

"Why did you move from Ft. Lauderdale to Orlando?"

"Mom wanted a change." He shrugs his shoulders, "She's been wanting to move out of Lauderdale for years. She said our house was a maus… mausa… you know, like a museum."

"A mausoleum?"

"Yeah, that's what she called it. Said it felt like a tomb."

"It was just you and your mom?" I ask carefully.

"Yeah. Mom and I lived in one wing of the house. Graham used to live in the other until he died."

The waitress delivers our meals. After she leaves, I watch as a starving Connor takes a massive bite out of his cheeseburger, scoops up a handful of fries, and devours them. Next, he reaches for the ketchup and squirts out a hefty helping onto his plate. After that, he drags each french fry through the ketchup before placing it in his mouth.

"Graham? Did he raise you?" I ask gruffly.

"Nah, well, I mean… I kinda remember him. He was nice and all, but he was always sick. Mom was constantly taking care of him." Connor looks up at me curiously, "Did you know him?"

"No. I never met the man," I say in a tight voice.

"Well, Mom wanted to move right after he died, but it took a long time for his estate to be settled. It was weird. One day, when I got home from school, Mom said she'd put the house up for sale and that we were moving. Then we did."

"What made you get the DNA testing?"

Connor frowns down at a now-drowning french fry. He picks it up, gets ketchup all over his fingers, and pops it in his mouth. He licks the remaining ketchup off his fingers, leaving a smear on his chin.

Finally, he answers, "I was going through a box of Graham's stuff. A bunch of old papers, some journals, and legal junk. It was in this bright yellow box." He makes a face and gestures with his hands, "Anyway, inside the box, I found a picture of you and my mom. She looked really happy. I asked her who you were." He looks up at me solemnly, "She didn't answer me at first. But then she told me that she hurt you really badly and that you didn't want her in your life."

Connor stops and glances over at me, a hint of wistfulness shining in his eyes. "I picked up the picture, and I kinda look like you. I figured you might be my dad. So, I sent away for a DNA kit."

He gives me a curious look, "Was that true?"

"Was what true, Connor?"

"That my mom hurt you and that you don't want her in your life anymore?" He tilts his head to the side as he waits for my answer.

"Yes, she hurt me. And because of that, we can never have a future together."

His eyes widen at my words, and he solemnly nods, "It must have been pretty bad."

"It was, but that's all I can tell you. Your Mom would have to tell you the rest if she wants to." I wipe my mouth and hands with a paper napkin and toss it down on my now-empty plate.

I look over at his plate, which only has crumbs. "You ready to go?"

"Sure," he answers with another shrug. I hide a grin as I wonder if I ever shrugged as often as he does. I have a feeling I did.

After we're in the SUV and I'm pulling away, he asks, "Where are we going now?"

I look at him across the car's interior. "My apartment. We can hang out there until your mother arrives."

"Okay," is his answer. I reach down and turn on the radio to one of the local rock radio stations. I turn up the volume and watch Connor as he nods his head to the beat of the rock song.

When I drive into the parking garage, he looks around. He follows me into the elevator, and we ride up to the penthouse. The elevator delivers us to the hall outside my front door.

"Cool," Is all that he says as I open the door to my apartment. When Connor walks in with his backpack, my eyes follow him. I see him stop and look around; the three-bedroom, two-bath apartment is spacious, with high ceilings. At one end of the living room are triple glass sliding doors that open onto an expansive balcony where you can watch the evening sunset. I have another magnificent view of the St. John's River.

"Wow, your view here is almost as nice as the one in your office."

I smile, "I agree. The view from my office is better. This one is just more panoramic."

I watch as he throws down his backpack and then checks out all the rooms. I follow him. He finally slows down when he gets to the bedrooms. "This place is huge."

A few minutes later, "I gotta take a leak," and he heads to the main bathroom.

I smile as I've almost forgotten what it's like to be around a preteen boy. That stops me in my tracks. He's almost a teenager, and I've missed ten years of his life. Ten whole years.

The unjustness of it all clogs my throat. I want to yell in frustration and punch a hole in the wall. How could she keep something so important from me? Why didn't Anna tell me?

Then I remember our last conversation. I told her not to contact me. That I never wanted to see or hear from her again. I said she was dead to me. And I meant every word. But still, a son? She should have told me she carried my son. I have to hide my smoldering emotions from Connor when I hear him make his way down the hall.

He suddenly spies a basketball in the spare bedroom. "You play hoops?" I hear him ask from the other room.

"Yeah, my brothers and I still play one-on-one, but there's a hoop on the ground floor. Wanna shoot a few while we wait for your mom?"

When he doesn't answer, I walk into the spare bedroom to discover him perched on the bed, absorbed in the wall-mounted family portrait featuring my parents, myself, and my two brothers.

"Hey, Connor, you okay?"

He turns toward me but doesn't stand. His face has an unreadable look, but his eyes seem to bulge. "I have uncles?" I hear the wonder in his voice.

I sit down on the edge of the bed beside him, and I point to the picture, "That was my dad, your grandpa. He died before I met your mother. The lady beside him is your grandma, my mother. Her name is Bonnie. She will cry when she meets you." He just smiles and blinks rapidly. "I'm the oldest, but this is Carter, my middle brother who's engaged to a woman named Kat. They both work at the office you were at. Carter travels a lot, but he recently set up and trained our elite bodyguard division."

I point again to the picture on the wall. "The other guy is my youngest brother, Chase. He's married, and his wife's name is Val. They have a little girl named Gabriella."

I stop and smile at him, "So let's see. You have a grandma, two uncles, two aunts, and a baby girl cousin."

"Wow, the only family I've ever had was my mom. She doesn't have anyone, either. You have a really big family."

"And now you do, too." I wink at him as I nod toward the picture, "My dad was one of eight siblings, so that's just your immediate family. There are so many Knights around this town, you won't be able to count them all." I laugh as his eyes bulge again, but I can see the anticipation of meeting them shining bright.

I go over to the desk in the spare bedroom and pull out a family album that my mother gave me on my last birthday. I hand it to Connor as we open it. I figured he'd soon grow bored with the endless pictures, but I watch as he eagerly asks about each photo. The last section of the album is pictures from one of our family cookouts. He's like a sponge wanting to know who is who and how they're related to him.

We finish the last page, and I tell him about my brother's boat and the boathouse when the doorbell rings. I watch as the smile disappears from his face, and he turns toward me. His voice is barely above a whisper, "My mom's gonna be mad."

I awkwardly wrap my arm around his shoulders and say gruffly, "Maybe, but she loves you, and she'll just be relieved that you're safe."