“I promise, but we’ll have to talk Mom into it.”
“You can. All I get is brush your teeth, live a good life, do your homework, and I love yous.” I’m still grinning like a loon. If that’s the worst the kid’s got, I’m doing a pretty damn good job. “But if you ask her, she’ll listen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she gets all gooey when you talk to her.” Reed sounds so annoyed.
Cooper chuckles, but then says, “I get kind of gooey myself . . . wait. Never mind. Come on. Lights out.”
I hurry to set the glasses in the bedroom and then make it sound like I’m coming up the stairs and stomp across the hall. Peeking in, I knock on the open door. “May I enter?”
When Reed looks at me, his little smile, that’s looking more like Cooper’s every day, hits me in the feels. “I’m ready, Mom.”
I cross the room. “Mom? Now I’m just Mom? What happened to Mommy?”
His shoulders bounce from the bed. “I’m almost six.”
“Yes, you are. Can I be Mommy until then?” I tickle his ribs.
“Yes. Yes,” he says, wriggling.
I lean down and kiss his cheek. Looking at him, I tap his nose, and say, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.”
I’m mush in this kid’s hands. I walk to the door and let Cooper say his good night. It’s more involved with a secret handshake that I’m not privy to, and I think there are two bops on the head followed by a bro-hug, as Reed calls it. Cooper has definitely made up for lost time.
I hear Reed’s door closing as I slip off my pants and pull on a pair of sleep shorts. Cooper enters our room and closes the door with the added click of the lock. He stayed that first night and just kind of never left. We made it official when he sold his condo in Manhattan last month. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it.” I smirk. “How bad a hit did your pride take over the car?”
Chuckling, he starts undressing. “The car is yours. The paperwork has been filed for the change in ownership.”
I still don’t understand why this was important to him. Doesn’t he understand that a car will never replace the man? But there’s no use arguing when it’s already a done deal. Anyway, we’ve moved into the stage of what’s mine is his and what’s his is mine, so it doesn’t matter.
He’s so good to me, but more importantly, he’s amazing with Reed. I smile. “I know your job makes you an expert, but being a dad comes natural to you, Cooper.”
He looks up after setting his clothes on a chair. “Yeah, you think so?”
“I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my child, or future children.”
We stand across the room, suddenly still with our eyes fixed on each other. I didn’t realize the gravity of my words until after I said them. It wasn’t planned. Only how I feel.
“Do you mean that?”
“I do.” Our voices are just whispers between us, but the emotions are felt loud and clear. Even with only a lamp on, I can see the light reflected in his eyes just before he drops his head and wipes across his face.
When he looks up, he says, “I didn’t even think I wanted kids. All I saw were people who hated the burden until I went to Patrice’s house. I saw the difference and changed after that. I knew if I had a child, it would be like that. They’d know that they’re the center of my universe.” He walks over and says, “Along with my wife.”
“What about girlfriend?”
“You’re more to me than that word can ever describe.” Bringing my hand to his mouth, he kisses it. “I love you, babe.”
“I love you, too.” He returns to collect his wallet from his pants pocket and sets it on the desk.
I fold down the blankets so the bed is ready when we are, then sit on the end of the mattress. “We never talked about our relationship with Reed. He might not understand what we are to each other or how he fits into that picture.”
“He knows.”
“How?”
“Because we’ve shown him, Story.” He sits next to me, our hands always coming together like a magnet to steel. “The other stuff is, it’s just words kids his age don’t really understand. They’re commonly used labels, but they don’t know what they mean until you show them. We’re doing that every day.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “He’s learning love by example.”
“He had a great head start because of you.”
Although Reed has taken to Cooper, I’ve struggled with when we should tell him he’s his father. Cooper hasn’t asked and would never put any pressure on me to rush things, but I know he wants that despite the labeling of our relationship conversation.
I’m Mom. It’s a label I’m most proud of.
He’s Dad. It’s time Reed knows.
When I lift my head, I say, “You’ve never asked me why I named him Reed.”
Cooper’s gaze falls to our clasped hands, and he turns them over. If it were free, he’d be running it through his hair. I just know it, so I hold him tighter. He looks up and asks, “Why?”
“So you’d always be a part of him.” His gulp is hard as he swallows down my words. I add, “But that was before I realized he’d be your twin.”
Laughter chokes from his throat, and he smiles. “It’s kind of hard to miss the resemblance, huh?”
“Yeah, cutest kid ever. I think we should tell Reed you’re his dad.”
Cooper freezes. Literally doesn’t move a muscle as he stares at me.
“Are you okay, Cooper?”
He blinks first and then seems to come to life—a shake of the head, his shoulders rounding, and a scrub of his face all happen before his eyes return to mine. “Fine.” His grin grows like a weed in sunshine. “I’m great.” There’s no hand running through his hair or shoving his hands in his pockets . . . not that he has pockets in his boxer briefs.
He’s great, and I believe him.
“Story?” he whispers. My breath halts in my throat. Maybe I assumed too soon. “Thank you for having Reed, for raising him, even without me. Thank you for being Mom and loving him enough for the both of us.”
Now I’m choked up, the lump making the act of swallowing a little harder.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek. “I have him only because of you. Thank you.”
“And I only have him because of you. What do you say we tell him soon?”
“I’d really like that.”
Sitting back, he lets his fingers trail along my scar. “No matter how many years we have ahead or how many are in our past, you will always be the best part of this life for me.”
It’s my turn to tear up. This man, he thinks I saved him, but he’ll never understand how he saved me. We make no sense on paper or to others, but to us, we do and isn’t that what’s important?
As for the scar he’s tracing, the red has faded, and it isn’t as angry anymore. Neither is he. Though both of us have so much that we could be if we had held on to it—his parents, the years we lost, my mom’s death, her life.
I used to dream of having the scar lasered and once considered getting a tattoo to blend it away. But it’s a reminder of not only my mom but how far I’ve come. It’s a piece of my history that I now consider my art. Reed thinks it’s the coolest, and Cooper kisses it and tells me it reminds him of the stem of a peony. I’m good with that.
Using the years to think about my mom, she had a lot of struggles in her life. But I try to remember that she chose to keep me. After that, she raised me the best she could. And at the end of her life, she fought for me. I don’t think I ever fully gave her the credit she deserved. I said it, but now I know it. Calliope taught me some hard lessons, but the one that stands out the most is to live life on my own terms. I’ll teach my son the same. She was one of a kind, and mine.