but with each passing hour, the idea takes root. It’s hard for me to believe he’s mine when I don’t remember that night, but the evidence that he’s mine is there. I feel bad I don’t remember, and equally so for Gabby. I just finished telling her there’d been no one but her for a hell of a long time, and then an hour later, Milo shows up. It’s a slap in the face to her, but she’s been so understanding about it all. Not that I didn’t already know it, my life is better with her in it.
Making my way into the living room, the shades are pulled, but it’s still light enough outside that I can make out their sleeping forms on the couch. Gabby is propped up on a pillow, her hair a mess tied in a knot on top of her head, and there in her arms, her hands resting on his back, is my son.
Something that feels an awful lot like a vise squeezes my chest as I take in the sight before me. They both look so peaceful. Gabby is protecting him, holding him close. She’s protecting my son. Comforting him. Loving him. No, she hasn’t said the words, but I feel it. I see it. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I snap a quick picture to remember this moment.
Crouching to my knees, I lay my hand over hers on his back. Her eyes immediately flutter open at the contact. “Hey, beautiful,” I say, my voice husky.
“Hi.” She looks down at a sleeping Milo in her arms. “He’s been awake most of the day. I finally got him to rest and fell asleep.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of him.” I say the words over the knot forming in my throat. I never knew love could feel like this. This all-consuming need for another human being. And my son… I swallow hard. He’s a miracle I wasn’t expecting, and it’s still hard for me to grasp that he’s mine, but the little guy has his little fist tightened around my heartstrings.
“I brought dinner.” My free hand reaches up and cradles her cheek. “I missed you today.”
“You don’t have to sweet talk me, Callahan. I’m already yours.”
I don’t reply. I want to. I want to pound on my chest like a caveman and scream those words at the top of my lungs. I want to throw her over my shoulder, carry her up to my room, and make love to her until we’re both too exhausted to move. Instead, I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. “Love you,” I whisper before pulling back. “You want me to take him?” I change the subject. I know she’s not ready to say the words back and I’m okay with that. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with how I feel for her. She’s been fighting a lot longer. I’ll give her all the time she needs.
“Yeah, his playpen is over there.” She points over her head at the edge of the couch, where the playpen sits in the same spot I put it this morning before I left for work.
Carefully, I lift him from her arms and cradle him to my chest. He stretches his little body but snuggles right back into my hold. I stare down at him in awe. I can’t believe this little person is part of me. I wish I could remember that night. Not for the connection with his mother, but it makes me feel like shit that I can’t even remember the night I made my son. Shaking out of my thoughts, I walk to the playpen and softly lay him inside. I stare down at him, making sure he’s going to stay asleep.
“Hey.” Her arms wrap around my waist from behind. “You good?”
I turn to face her, holding her close to my chest. “Never been better. Thank you for staying with me. Not here in our home, although I’m thankful for that too, but for staying by my side through all of this.”
“No place I’d rather be.”
“It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around it. I see it in his eyes, in his nose, but I can’t remember it. I feel like I’m in some alternate universe. I mean, shouldn’t I be able to remember even a glimpse of… that night?” I ask, not really wanting to talk about my time with another woman with the love of my life,