9. Nine

Nine

Carson

The bedside lamp casts long shadows on the wall as I again stay by Connor's bedside while he falls asleep.

I try to shake off my mixed feelings. I'm not used to the emotional roller coaster I've been on since Connor stepped into my life. My lips twist in a self-deprecating grimace. Not just Connor but Anna as well.

When she didn't answer Connor's call, he raced into the kitchen to ask her. When she looked up with tears glistening in her eyes, I felt a powerful urge to comfort her. The feeling coursed through me, but years of self-preservation held me back. She looked like she was hurting, and I couldn't believe how much I wanted to soothe away her pain.

Then, when Connor so casually explained she was missing Graham, his words cut through me like a sharp knife. Graham. Her ex-husband is the constant elephant in the room. A silent ghost who will always stand between us. A barrier that I almost welcome, as I don't want to let down my defenses when I'm around her.

However, she's right that we need to call a truce for Connor's sake. My son is my number one priority right now. My eyes rove over him again as I feel what is now becoming a familiar tightening in my chest.

I lean down and adjust the covers. I owe it to my son to try and make peace with his mother. And I smile as I think of my mother. My lips turn up into a wide smile as I imagine her reaction once she hears the news of her grandson.

I have to tell my brothers as well. It was the truth that I wanted to keep Connor's existence to myself for a while. All these emotions are like a battering ram, shoving me one way then another. These past few days - a far cry from my orderly routines.

I give a silent laugh as I close Connor's bedroom door. Even with all the chaos, I feel like there's a newfound purpose in my life—a new beginning.

I sober as I stride into the living room. When I see Anna sitting on the couch, I know she stayed up waiting for me. Then, the air is thick with tension as I sit in the armchair across from her.

"Connor is very important to me." I say in a resigned voice, "So, I think a truce between us, while it won't be easy, is necessary."

I watch as she leans forward, her hands clasped before her. A look of relief flashes across her face. "Thank you."

"Now, I have a few questions," I warn her firmly. Her eyes warily meet mine, but she doesn't protest. "I want my son to have my last name. Who is listed as the father on his birth certificate?"

"I understand," Anna finally manages. I watch as she licks her lips, a nervous habit. Avoiding my eyes, she reluctantly answers, "His birth certificate doesn't list a father. It's blank."

I narrow my eyes at her as I clarify. "We don't need to remove Graham's name?" My voice sounds tight and tinged with doubt.

"No. Like I said, I left it blank." She lifts her eyes to mine, an unreadable look in them.

"What's Connor's full name? He goes by Johnson, right?"

She nods and states quietly, "Yes. It was easier since that was my last name. His full name is Connor Carlton Johnson." When I suck in my breath sharply at his middle name, she looks up at me with a soft smile. "I remember you mentioned your father once, and you said his name was Carlton. So, I… I gave him that as a middle name."

"You named him after my father?" I say in stunned disbelief.

"Yes." She doesn't elaborate, but her eyes give me a soulful look.

I clamp my teeth tightly together because there are so many questions I want to ask her. Questions about her husband and her marriage. Did he think Connor was his? Didn't he question when she didn't list him as the father?

But there's a bigger part of me that doesn't want to know the answers. I don't want to even think of her with another man. I blink. Shouldn't I be more worried that this man helped raise my son, at least for the first three or four years of his life? I need to focus on my son, not his mother or what type of marriage she had. But the questions still linger. Making me wonder…

I pull my thoughts away and look over at Anna as I clear my throat.

"I'll get with my lawyer to have the paperwork updated," I finish vaguely.

She just nods, her clear gray eyes studying my face as she says, "You'll probably want a paternity test."

I remain motionless for a beat, and then I nod, "Yes, but only to make it official. I'm convinced he's mine."

I meant the words to reassure her, but I see twin flags of color mark her cheeks as if my words offend her, but she presses her lips together without saying another word.

I watch her for another moment or two, but it seems she's learning to hide her emotions. Yet her eyes are so expressive, I remember getting lost in those deep, clear pools.

I clear my throat again. "It sounds like we have a lot of paperwork to get started. If you need my lawyer to help with the school records, let me know." I stand, and without a backward glance, I leave her sitting there, alone on the couch.

Once I'm in bed, I can't forget the look she gave me after she shared that our son was named after my father. I remember mentioning my parents to her and telling her how close-knit my family was. I blinked again to try and dislodge the wounded deer look she gave me as if it hurt her that I wasn't there with her to name our child.

The walls feel like they're closing in on me as I lie in bed, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. Sleep is hard to find, and as I toss and turn, images of our time together repeat in my mind. So does Anna's easy smile, the sound of her laughter, the way we communicated with just a glance.

How compatible we were. Inside and outside of bed. I roll over and viciously punch my pillow, turning it over and searching for a cooler spot for my heavy head. Sometime in the wee hours, I finally fall into a restless sleep.

When I climb out of bed the next morning, I'm surprised to see it's after nine. I listen, but I don't hear any sounds coming from the rest of the apartment. I throw on a pair of boxers and tentatively open my bedroom door. I'm alone in the apartment.

For one split second, panic freezes my limbs as I imagine she's left and taken my son with her. Alarm flares through me, followed quickly by a surge of pure disbelief. I walk furiously through the empty living room as the silence presses in on me. Then I see a note on the dining room table. I pick it up, ‘Gone to get groceries. Connor is with me. Be back later. Anna'.

I take a deep, calming breath as a wave of relief washes over me. Yet, I still detour into her and Connor's rooms just to confirm their clothes and things are still there. I even glance into the main bathroom and give a rueful grin when I spot their toothbrushes. Maybe I'm overreacting.

After I dress in blue jeans and a golf shirt, I pick up my phone and give my mother a call. "Hey, Mom, do you have any plans for today?"

Later, when I hear Anna and Connor at the door, I open it and swing it wide. I reach out to help take some of the bags.

"There's more in the car," Anna says with a slight smile. "I hope you don't mind. I like to cook, so I got enough to last through the week. Kind of. It's hard to tell with a growing boy." She says as she throws a grin at Connor. Then she looks back at me, "Did you eat breakfast? Connor and I had cereal."

"That's what I ate too." She arches her brows in surprise and gives me a playful look, "How long has it been since you last had a bowl of cereal?" She asks me.

"About twenty years ago or so." I shrug as I admit that and follow her to the garage to get the rest of the groceries. As we come back up, we continue the conversation. "So, which crunch cereal did you have?"

I turn and give her a serious look, "Cap'n Crunch. It is the best." I say tongue in cheek.

"Of course." We share a grin.

As I set the bags on the kitchen counter, I feel some of the tension between us ease. Maybe this truce thing isn't so bad. Then Anna starts to put the groceries away. I feel a wave of heat travel through me as she reaches overhead. Her shirt rides up, leaving a sliver of bare skin exposed. Just that glimpse of her taunt mid-drift has me wanting to reach out and run my hand along her smooth skin.

I have to drag my eyes away, and then a twinge of resentment floods through me. It's not her fault, I remind myself. But the unwanted reaction frustrates me.

Connor comes into the kitchen right then. He's already reaching for a snack.

"I thought I'd drive us over to see my mother. She's expecting us for lunch."

A wide grin practically splits Connor's face. "Great. When can we leave?"

I laugh, "Anytime. I know she won't mind if we're early."

Connor looks over at his mother, "Mom, can we leave now?"

Anna smiles and says, "Sure, but why don't you wash up and brush your hair while I put these last few items away?"

For the first time since I've known my son, he seems concerned with his appearance. He abruptly turns and practically runs to the bathroom to slick down his hair. When he emerges, his hair is neatly combed, and his face is shiny from scrubbing it with a washcloth.

Anna states, "Let me run a brush through my hair, and I'll be ready to go."

Connor prances from one foot to the other as we wait. The minute Anna reappears, he opens the front door. Once we get in the car, he says in a worried voice, "Should I have a gift or something for her?"

I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, "No, Son. You'll be gift enough."

At my words, he seems to settle down and sits back. He perks up and looks around as I pull into the private drive that leads to my mother's river estate. Once I turn off the engine, Connor jumps out, but his steps slow as we move toward the door.

I come up behind him and place my hand on his shoulder. "My mom's name is Bonnie. But I'm sure she'll insist you call her grandma. She'll hug you for sure, and she might even mess up your hair." I warn him in a low voice.

I feel some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Then the door is opened by my mother. Her dark hair has a striking white streak that she brushes back from her forehead. She's an attractive woman, and the vivid blue of her eyes hasn't faded a bit.

She only has eyes for the young boy standing before her, and her eyes glow with instant love as she takes him in. "And you must be my grandson. Come here, young man, and let me love on you."

Connor steps forward, and she wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a warm and loving embrace. When she finally lets him up for air, his cheeks are rosy, and he doesn't even protest when she ruffles his combed hair, messing it up.

My mother's eyes are filled with joyous tears, and Connor's are suspiciously wet as he sniffles and wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

With her arm tightening around Connor, pulling him closer, my mother turns to look at me and then Anna. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she offers a welcoming smile to her grandson's mother. I see Anna's worried frown melt away, and my mom's smile widens, creating a warm exchange between them.

Anna's shoulders visibly relax, and she lets out a small breath she must have been holding. I feel a pang of guilt as I should have noticed Anna was more nervous than our son at meeting my mom. I reach out and place my hand, a gesture of reassurance, on the small of Anna's back. My eyes linger on the sway of her hips in her navy shorts as she proceeds me into my childhood home.