Henry

HENRY

I have no right to be this goddamn comfortable, leaned back on Patrick's couch, nursing my fourth slice of pizza and second beer. Watching Baltimore versus San Francisco on the TV, it's just the two of us.

Eli is at a business lunch with a group of investors and Jake has his end of quarter financials to finish.

I try not to lie too much to my friend, but not saying anything about Paige feels like lying. Either way, I'm screwed.

When there's a time-out, Patrick knocks me in the shoulder. "Paige has been happy lately. I'm glad she's such a good fit for you guys."

My back jolts and a cold sweat materializes at the nape of my neck. "She was unhappy before?"

Patrick shrugs. "Well, you know, it's rough getting a degree and raising a boy. They tend to be a lot harder when they're young. My girls were docile compared to Paxton. You got to see him when he was sick, but that bugger is high energy all the time."

I smile. I did know. Sledding with him was a four-person job and it still exhausted me thinking about the number of times I climbed that hill with him hanging off me.

"Paxton is three, right?" I'd been trying to figure out his birthday, but Paige is vague about it, and I haven't found a way to bring it up to Patrick.

"Three and a half, in fact. Paige had him at the end of her first year—in May."

A new wave of cold runs through me. The math I'd done puts me in the right window to be Paxton's father. But she would have told me. Right?

Wouldn't she have told Patrick? She waxes on about how cool he was, supportive during the pregnancy and after, helping her get through school.

"Yeah. She had a hell of a time, but she worked her ass off. You know my Paige. When she wants something, she takes it. Ain't nothing that can stand in her way." The pride on my friend's face is heartwarming, but still, I'm unnerved.

I have to ask. "What about Paxton's father?"

My heart stampedes in my chest.

Patrick sighs and takes a long pull from his beer. "I never did learn much about him. All she would tell me was that he was a one-night stand and she had no real way of letting him know."

We both stare at the TV, Baltimore making a play and failing.

I rub my forehead, confused. Did Paige sleep with someone else close to when we did? Or did she think she couldn't get a hold of me? Could she have—without telling her father?

And God, I avoided her after, thinking I was doing what was right by her.

Patrick knocks back the rest of his beer and silently asks me if I want another. I nod, finishing my own as he gets up to grab two more. When he drops back beside me, he's got a frown.

"You know, I've always suspected she won't tell me who because he broke her heart. She hasn't dated at all. Never talks about it. She seemed lonely until she started working for you. I'm grateful for the favor. Glad she's doing so well there."

My gut double knots itself and I struggle to swallow my mouthful of beer. The bitter hops threatens to burn me on the way down. I cough past it.

"She's a great team leader. Knows how to manage a project like she's been doing it for years."

"That's my girl. Always was an old soul."

Yeah. That's one way of putting it. Maturity belying her age.

Patrick nudges my thigh with his beer bottle. "You look a little green around the gills. You alright?"

"Yeah. I don't think the pizza is sitting well." I tap my chest, but the burning there isn't indigestion. It's the sinking reality that Paxton is more likely my son .

I abandon my bottle and get a glass of water. Part of me wants to run to Paige right this second and demand the truth. The other part doesn't want to raise any suspicions in Patrick before I talk to her.

So I wait out the rest of the game, and although I'd normally stay to watch the saved one, I do manage to excuse myself without giving off the weird vibes. Liam is on standby, but he gets to Patrick's in a matter of minutes.

"Take me to Paige's."

Liam nods. "Yes, sir."

And he knows how to navigate the midafternoon Sunday traffic, getting me to her apartment in fifteen minutes. My questions jumble in my head, clouded by too many emotions and the abundance of loss taking over the rest.

I'm trying to understand. Trying not to overreact. Trying to not be angry at missing all of that time. And not just with her.

Paige is young. Youth is the time for mistakes.

But I'm old enough to know better. I should have checked on her after we slept together that first time.

I'm a complete wreck as I climb the stairs to her door, lingering there before I knock. Collecting myself like I would before an important meeting.

When she answers the door, she looks so innocent. Pink-cheeked, soft mouth, and round blue eyes. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she's in burgundy sweats.

Paige transforms before my eyes as she looks at me, her hand reaching out to grab me by the arm and pull me inside. "What is it?"

I close the door behind me, refusing to slam it, especially when I spot Paxton on the couch, absorbed in one of his shows and a handful of oversized cars.

When I turn back around, Paige is reaching out to touch me again, but she falters, crossing her arms and biting her lip.

I look back at Paxton for a long minute. His hair is light brown like my own, his cheeks and chin the same as mine were when I was his age. In fact, he looks like me when I was three.

How could I be so blind for so long?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her eyes close and her shoulders slump. Paige looks like the twenty-two-year-old she is. The young mother who's been doing this on her own—mostly. Her mouth trembles before she presses her lips flat.

I want nothing more than to soothe her, smooth away the worry and fear weighing her down, but I wait. I need these answers.

"How was I supposed to tell you?" Tears make her eyes glassy, but she doesn't let them fall. "You'd made it clear that you didn't want anything like that from me. And I wasn't going to ruin your life."

" Ruin my life ? Ruin my life? With everything I have at my disposal, you thought you'd ruin my life." The gall of this woman. "What about your life? His?"

"I made it work. He's not a burden to me."

He wouldn't have been a burden to me, either. But I remember what I told her. That we couldn't be a thing. Fucking stupid.

"And you're sure? I don't need to submit to a paternity test?" I'll believe her if she says she's sure, but if she wants the test, I'll do it.

"I'm sure." Paige shuffles a little. "You're the only person I've ever slept with…until a few weeks ago."

Fuck, that punched right through my chest, letting my heart dangle by a thread. She'd been a virgin? That's too much to unwrap.

"Let me spend time with him."

"I—I don't know."

"Paige. If you're saying he's mine, I need to spend time with him. I've missed so much already."

Those tears shimmer in her eyes again. "I know."

This time, I step forward and brush the tears away as they escape. "Please. Let me get to know him. Let me be his dad."

Those vibrant blue eyes—the ones our son inherited from her—search mine for so long that I lose track of time.

All of a sudden, she softly calls, "Hey, Bub, remember what I told you about your dada?"

Paxton perks up on the couch, homing in on us before he answers, "He had to go. Do important things."

Wait. She's told him about me?

"Well, he's back," Paige says and I shoot her a questioning look.

She shrugs, but Paxton is on the move, his small feet stomping across the hardwood floor on his way to us.

He grabs her sweatpants, head back to peer up at her as he points at me. "Dada?"

Paige nods, then Paxton's face breaks out in such a big smile, I swear the room lights up with him. I sink down in time for him to throw himself at me.

"You're back," he says against my neck.

When my arms close around him, my heart breaks, remaking itself to be big enough to include everything I never thought I'd have—a family.