Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,90
had the sense to throw out the torn dress. Still, he knows a walk of shame when he sees one.
I’m not going to play their game, though. I’m a grown adult. I don’t have to report back like I used to when I had a curfew. If I want to stay out all night long, that’s my business.
Ignoring my mother’s question, I say, “Carly, when you’re finished with that paper, I’m going to take Henry out. So you can have the rest of the day off.”
“Well, thank you,” Carly grins. “I saw a sushi place down the road that was calling my name.”
She’s a lovely girl—freckled, friendly, always willing to accommodate my strange schedule. She’s good to Henry, and I’ll be forever grateful to her for that. But at the end of the day I’m her boss, not her friend. Sometimes having her around just makes me miss Serwa.
“What should we do?” Mama muses. “We could all go to the park together!”
“Sorry,” I tell her gently. “I need to spend some time alone with Henry today.”
“Oh,” she says. “Of course.”
“We could take him tomorrow, though,” I say.
“Tomorrow would be perfect.” She smiles.
I go into my own room to change my clothes.
My heart is beating rapidly. I’ve pictured having this conversation a hundred times, but it was always just theoretical—on some day in the distant future. Now that day is today.
Henry is already dressed. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, with a Lakers cap crammed down over his curls. He hates doing his hair, so he’ll wear a hat instead any chance he gets. His clothes don’t match exactly, but they’re pretty close—he’s getting better at picking outfits for himself.
I can’t believe that this autonomous human I made is already getting his own preferences in colors and patterns. He loathes the feeling of blue jeans, and almost exclusively wears shorts or joggers. His feet look enormous in his sneakers. We already wear the same shoe size.
The sight of him hurts my heart. I love the way he slouches, the way he walks, his little sleepy half-smile.
This is what I didn’t know about having kids: it’s like falling in love all over again. You love everything about that little person. They are more crucial to you than your own self.
I also didn’t know that having Henry would bind me to Dante more than anything else. Every time I look at my son I see parts of Dante—his height. His hands. His dark eyes. His intelligence. His focus. As Henry gets older, I have no doubt his voice will deepen like Dante’s.
Henry is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. He’s the best thing in my life. And it’s Dante who gave him to me. We created this boy together—to my mind, the most perfect and beautiful human ever made.
This feeling is totally one-sided—Dante doesn’t even know we have a son together. But I’ll be grateful to him all my life for Henry.
I won’t ever have a child with another man. I knew that as soon as Henry started to grow up. I saw how handsome and strong and determined he was. I felt this bizarre sense of destiny, that I’d created the most incredible son on the planet. The wonderfulness of Henry is proof that Dante and I were the perfect match. I could never have a baby with anyone else.
These are insane beliefs, I know that. But I can’t help the way I feel. Dante was the one for me—the only one. And whether we’ll ever be together again or not, nobody else will take his place.
How can I express this to Henry, in its simplest form?
He deserves to know his father. He deserved to know him all along. I was wrong to let it go on this long.
Still, after all this time, I’m not prepared. I don’t know how to explain any of this to him. And I’m fucking terrified.
I take Henry down to the waterfront. We rent a couple of bicycles, and we cycle along the lakeshore for a few miles. The path is full of joggers, walkers, runners, cyclists, skateboarders, people with scooters, strollers, even rollerblades.
I let Henry go ahead of me. The rented bikes are simple three-speeds, with wide handlebars and banana seats. It’s hard to keep up with him while he’s pedaling madly, the wind in his face. His hat flies off his head and by some miracle, I manage to reach up and snatch it out of the air. Henry grins back at me, calling