14. Layla

"Mommy, what are you working on today?" Breckin asks from the backseat as we drive to school.

"I am editing some videos I made for the salon and some other videos before I upload them to their social media."

"I really liked the video you made of me," he says.

I glance back at him in the rearview mirror. "I'm glad you liked it."

I had put together a ‘highlight' reel for him of all of his plays in the driveway with Grandpa and Uncle Eric. I made one for each of them.

"It was the best. Is Mr. Brock coming to hang out with us again tonight?"

"I think so, buddy. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I really like him. He's fun and he's nice to you, Mommy."I grin at him again. We're in the drop-off line and I pull up in front of the school to let him out.

"Love you, buddy. Have a great day."

"Bye, Mama, love you," he calls as he gets out with his backpack.

He's like the best kid.

I'm lost in my own thoughts as I drive home.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the phone breaks the silence, jolting me out of my reverie. With trembling hands, I reach for the button to answer the call through the Bluetooth speakers.

"Hello?" I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Good morning, this is Nurse Jenkins calling from Dr. Patel"s office," a polite voice on the other end says. "I"m calling to inform you that the DNA test results have come back. If you"d like, you can come by the office to pick them up."

My breath catches in my throat as I absorb her words. The DNA test—the key to unlocking the mystery of my past, of Breckin"s parentage. It"s finally here.

"Y-yes, thank you," I stammer, struggling to compose myself. "I"ll be there as soon as I can."

After hanging up, I exhale slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Excitement, nervousness, and a nagging sense of guilt.

Mom guilt is strong.

From the day I learned I was pregnant I always felt so guilty that I couldn't remember who Breckin's father was. I feel like he got the shaft because of my amnesia.

With trembling fingers, I type out a quick text to Brock:

Just got a call from the doctor"s office. The DNA test results are in. I"m heading there now to pick them up

Sending the message, I grab my keys and hurry out the door, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. The drive to the doctor"s office feels like an eternity, each passing mile stretching out before me like an endless road of uncertainty.

When I finally arrive, I"m greeted by Nurse Jenkins with a warm smile. She hands me an envelope containing the results, offering words of encouragement as I thank her and make my way back to the car.

Sitting in the driver"s seat, I tear open the envelope, my hands trembling with anticipation. My eyes scan the words on the page, my heart pounding in my chest as the truth slowly begins to sink in.

Positive.

The word echoes in my mind, sending a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through me. Relief, elation, and a profound sense of joy at finally knowing the truth. But beneath it all, a lingering sense of guilt gnaws at me.

Brock is Breckin's father.

My amnesia robbed both of them of a relationship for five years.

Tears roll down my cheeks.

There's a knock on my window and I glance up to see Brock staring back at me. When he sees my tears, his face pales.

I unlock the door and gesture for him to go to the passenger side of the vehicle. He climbs in.

"Are you crying because I'm not the father?"

"I'm crying because you and Breckin have been robbed of a relationship for the last five years because of my stupid amnesia."

"Hey," he breathes as he pulls me into a hug. "The past doesn't matter it's out of our control. Now matters. We have all the time in the world to build a relationship with the three of us."

"Brock," I sob.

"Stop. There's no reason to beat yourself up over this. I'm not mad. Breckin won't be mad either."

He holds me tightly as he kisses the top of my head.

"You're not mad?"

"No," he chuckles.

"Thank you."

"How do we tell Breckin and Eric?"

"Let's wait a bit. I want them both to get used to you being around."

"When?"

"I don't know. Can I have a few days to process everything?"

"Yes," he smiles.

He sits back and reaches out for my hand. He laces his fingers through mine before gazing back at me adoringly.

"Eric isn't going to be okay with this."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he shrugs. "I'm a dad!"

"You are."

"Wow," he breathes. "Are you okay if I work on getting my name added to the birth certificate under the radar?"

"Under the radar?"

"It will be a media frenzy, most likely, if I'm not careful."

"And we want to make sure everyone who should know, knows first."

"Exactly."

"Yes, do what is necessary, and just tell me what I can do to help."

"I'll do some research today. Do you need some time alone to process?"

"Yeah. I do," I reply softly.

"Okay, then I'll leave you to it. Dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, Breckin asked if you were coming tonight."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll definitely be there."

He kisses me quickly and leaves the car. I sit there for a few minutes watching him walk to his car.

How did I get so lucky? He literally asked if I needed space and then gave it to me without making me feel guilty. I'm not used to that.

***

I find myself standing at the stove with Breckin by my side, a colorful array of ingredients spread out before us. The aroma of herbs and spices fills the air, mingling with laughter and the sound of sizzling pans. Tonight, we"re cooking dinner together—a simple yet comforting ritual that has become a cherished part of our routine.

"Hey, Breckin, could you pass me the garlic?" I ask, smiling as my son reaches for the garlic cloves, his face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Sure thing, Mom!" he replies, handing me the cloves with a grin. "Are we making spaghetti tonight?"

I nod, tossing the minced garlic into the pan with a sizzle. "Yep, your favorite. And don"t forget the secret ingredient!"

"Ooh, the secret ingredient! Is it the special sauce?"

I wink playfully. "You"ll have to wait and see."

As we work together, chopping vegetables and stirring sauce, I smile as Breckin"s laughter fills the kitchen, a joyful melody that lifts my spirits and fills me with a sense of warmth and contentment.

Before long, the doorbell rings, signaling Brock"s arrival. With a grin, Breckin races to answer it, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

"Mr. Brock's here!" he exclaims, swinging the door open to reveal Brock standing in the doorway, a smile on his face.

"Hey, buddy!" Brock says, ruffling Breckin"s hair affectionately. "How"s my favorite little chef doing?"

Breckin beams up at him. "We"re making spaghetti! And Mom says she has a secret ingredient."

"A secret ingredient, huh? I can"t wait to taste it."

As Brock joins us in the kitchen, the atmosphere becomes even livelier, filled with the sound of laughter and playful banter. Together, the three of us work side by side, each taking turns stirring the sauce and boiling the pasta.

"How was school today?" Brock asks, turning to our son with genuine interest.

Breckin"s face lights up as he launches into a lively recount of his day, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement.

"It was awesome! We had science class, and we got to do this really cool experiment with vinegar and baking soda. And then at recess, me and my friends played soccer, and I scored a goal!"

"That sounds like a blast, buddy. I"m glad you had a good day."

"We have eggs in our classroom too and today we hatched a baby chicken! It was so cool."

"Whoa, I remember having those when I was your age too."

As dinner finally comes together, we gather around the table, a feast of spaghetti and garlic bread spread out before us. The mood is light and carefree, filled with laughter and animated conversation.

"When's your next game, buddy?" Brock asks Breckin.

"Saturday. That's when all of our games are. Uncle Eric said you can come to more practices if you want."

"Do you want me to come to more practices?"

"Yes!"

"Okay," Brock chuckles as his eyes dart to mine.

I can't stop smiling. My heart is exploding. I'm so happy that we've finally found each other, again. I'm so glad that the three of us can be a family now that we know the truth.

As we dig into our meal, I feel a profound sense of gratitude for moments like these — for the simple joys of cooking dinner together, of sharing stories and laughter around the table.

"Want to get a little practice in?" Brock asks Breckin once we're finished cleaning up the kitchen.

"Can I?"

"Yes," I smile.

Breckin's grin widens as he hurries into the hallway to get his gear before he races outside. Brock stops and leans down to kiss me quickly before following Breckin outside.

The crisp evening air carries the sound of laughter and the rhythmic thud of hockey sticks against the pavement as I watch Breckin and Brock play outside. Their voices mingle in playful banter, a symphony of joy and camaraderie that fills me with a sense of warmth and contentment.

As I stand on the porch, a smile playing at the corners of my lips, I hear the familiar rumble of an engine approaching. Turning, I see Eric"s car pull into the driveway, his easygoing demeanor evident even from a distance.

"Hey, Layla!" Eric calls out as he steps out of the car, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like I"m not the only one who thought hockey sounded like a good idea."

I chuckle, shaking my head in amusement. "Great minds think alike, huh?"

Eric nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Something like that."

As he joins me on the porch, we settle into the wooden chairs, our gazes fixed on the scene unfolding before us. Breckin and Brock dart across the pavement, their laughter mingling with the sound of skates scraping against the ground.

"They seem to be having a blast out there," Eric remarks, his tone filled with warmth and affection.

I nod, a soft smile playing on my lips. "Yeah, they really are. Breckin adores him."

For a few moments, we sit in comfortable silence, content to simply watch as Breckin and Brock continue their game.

"I"m glad Brock is home. I haven"t seen him this happy in a while, and he seems to be really good for Breckin."

"They're good for each other."

"I can't sit on the sidelines any longer," Eric laughs as he stands up and goes to the driveway.

I laugh. All three boys are living their best lives as they play hockey in the driveway. Breckin has to be the luckiest kid in the world.

***

After I drop Breckin off at school, I go to grab a coffee before going into the salon. As I walk out, I notice a striking woman walking toward me, her blonde hair cascading in waves around her shoulders.

"Excuse me," she says. "Layla, right? I"m Tierney."

Tierney. The name sends a ripple of unease through me, a faint memory stirring in the depths of my mind. Brock"s ex-girlfriend. The pieces begin to fall into place, and I offer her a tentative smile.

"It"s nice to meet you, Tierney."

But before I can say another word, Tierney"s expression darkens, her eyes welling up with tears. "Layla, I... I need to talk to you. It"s about Brock."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, a sense of apprehension creeping over me. "What about Brock? Is everything okay?"

She shakes her head, her voice trembling with emotion. "No, it"s not. Layla, I"m pregnant. And... and Brock"s the father."

Pregnant. Brock"s child. The magnitude of the revelation washes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me reeling in its wake.

"I... I don"t know what to say," I stammer, at a loss for words. "I"m so sorry. I had no idea."

Her tears spill over, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "Please, Layla, you have to understand. Brock needs to do the right thing. His parents will disown him if he doesn"t marry me. He can"t abandon us."

I reach out to comfort her, my heart aching with sympathy for the pain she"s going through. "I"m so sorry. But I can"t make that decision for Brock. It"s between the two of you."

"Please, Layla. You have to talk to him. Make him see reason. He can"t just walk away from us."

As the weight of her words sinks in, I feel a sense of helplessness wash over me. What can I possibly do in the face of such turmoil? How can I navigate this tangled web of emotions without causing more harm?

"I need to go," I say walking away quickly.

As I leave the café, my mind whirling with uncertainty, I pull out my phone and send a text to Brock:

I"m not feeling well. I don"t think you should come over tonight.

It"s a feeble attempt to buy myself some time, to sort through the chaos of my thoughts before confronting the reality of the situation.

I walk into the salon in a daze. Lula is finishing up with someone's hair as she shoots me a funny look.

I go to an empty area and start unloading my camera. When she's finished she comes over.

"What's wrong?"

"Brock's ex-girlfriend is in town."

"Why?"

"He said his mom invited her."

"That's weird. Do you believe that?"

"I don't know. She stopped me outside the coffee shop and told me that she's pregnant with his child."

"Do you believe that?"

"Why would she lie?"

"Bitches be crazy," she jokes. "Don't freak out okay?"

I nod slowly. "Everything has been going so good and…and…"

"Get out of that headspace, right now."

I let out a grown. "You're right."

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. The anxiety fades away.

"Talk to him about it and go from there."

"I told him I didn't feel good. I lied to him so that I could think things through."

"Lying isn't okay, but taking space is good too. You should be able to communicate that to him. I know that it's hard to break those bad habits after being with Randy for so long."

"Where I thought every communication would end in gaslighting?"

"Yeah," she smiles as she squeezes my arm.

"Okay, enough about that. I have some filming to do."