so I don’t know why I’m doing it again. Still, I open the backpack filled with books and check over them. All seven are still there, along with the present I’d spent hours wrapping and unwrapping and re-wrapping. I’d bought five different wrapping papers and opted for a blue one with Bs in different fonts stamped all over.
I’m stalling. I know I am. And I’m well aware that most guys in my situation would’ve jumped at the chance to meet their son, but clearly, I’m not most guys. Which sucks. Because right now, all I am is a giant ball of fucking nerves.
I zip up the backpack and grasp at my hair, trying to talk myself up. I roll the tenseness out of my neck, and then attempt to shake out the stiffness in my hands.
In under five minutes, I’ll be face to face with my son.
My son.
Jesus.
Mia had told me that her dad and Tammy would be coming with them, not because they worried I was visiting—because they still didn’t know about me for sure, even though Tammy suspects—but just to give her a break if she wanted to spend time with me.
She said it apologetically, like I’d somehow feel different if they were there. To be honest, when I think about Benny and hope for a future with him, I don’t just see him and Mia. I see her dad and Tammy and Holden, too.
Like I do whenever I’m too deep in my head, I run through every possible scenario and catastrophize every situation. The worst would be if Benny takes one look at me and hates me off the bat. I think that’s why I bought the present.
I’m bribing him.
I wonder if bribery is in any parenting manuals. Are there parenting manuals? I should probably get some.
I roll my eyes as I pull out on the road again and run through conversation topics in my head. He’s four, the same age as Preston, so I know I can talk to him, and I’m pretty clued in on what four-year-olds like. Preston’s going through a Paw Patrol phase. His favorite characters are Chase, the cop, and Rubble, the construction worker, because of his parents. His favorite food is hot dogs, sliced and eaten with a toothpick, because why not?
I realize that I’m saying all of this, out loud, to myself. And before I know it, I’m pulling into the farm. And before I can second-guess myself, Tammy is walking between the house and the barn, pushing an overflowing wheelbarrow full of dirt. At the sight of it almost tipping over when she loses control, I get out of the truck and jog toward her. “I got it,” I tell her, and she laughs quietly, moving out of the way so I can grasp the handles. “Where do you want it?”
“By the porch would be great,” she says, wiping the sweat off her face with her forearm.
I take the wheelbarrow to where she points and release it slowly before turning to her. “Hi,” I breathe out, and the warmth of her smile challenges the heat of the sun beating down on us.
“It’s good to see you again,” she says. “Mia and the boys just went to the store quickly to grab some stuff for lunch.”
“The boys?”
“Benny and Joseph. I still call him a boy because sometimes he acts like a child.”
Chewing my lip, I nod once.
She settles her hands on her hips. “How are you feeling?”
I raise my eyebrows in question, and her smile turns sly. “I’m not here to make assumptions, Leo,” she says, holding both hands up in surrender, “but I questioned it the moment I got a good look at you.” She shakes her head, looks down at the space between us. “Joseph can be a little daft, but I won’t say anything.” Her eyes meet mine again. “So? How are you?”
I inhale as much air as I can handle, then let it out in a whoosh. “I’m kind of shitting my pants,” I tell her honestly. She laughs, so loud and carefree, I almost laugh with her. Instead, I show her my hands, reveal their trembling. “See?”
“Oh no,” she says, looking up at me, both her hands covering one of mine. “You have nothing to be worried about.” I stare down at our hands, and I let my mind wander to my mother and what she would do if she faced this same situation. Before I can dwell on it for too long, a truck