Connor locked eyes with David. “Nothing’s ever gonna come out,” he said. “And if, God forbid, something ever does, I’ll take the heat for it. I’ll fix it for you, I promise.”
David cleared his throat. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said.
Connor swung his arm and hit his friend. “Damn straight. And that’s why you’re buying the goddamn drinks tonight.”
“You cheap bastard.”
They grinned at each other. Connor raised his glass. “This news calls for a toast,” he said.
“Connor, forget about it, will you? They were just floating a trial balloon, and like I said, I am perfectly happy in my current job.”
“Bullshit. When the time comes, you will run. You know why?”
“Why?”
Connor grinned. “Because if you run, you’ll win. Yes, you son of a bitch. You’ll win.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
He cried like a baby. Like a friggin’ girl. Openly, unabashedly. In front of all of them. All of them—Connor, Jan, Dee, even Bob Campbell, who stared up at the ornate ceiling of the courthouse as if to escape David’s mortifying display of emotion. David didn’t care. He had eyes only for Anton. Anton and Dee. His new family. His newly constituted, newly minted family. Finally, finally, after all the waiting. He no longer had to feel defensive when he referred to Anton as his son, as if laying false claim to something that didn’t belong to him. Now, with the adoption papers in his pocket, he could put his arm around the boy and pull him close, daring any of them to give him the look that made him feel like an imposter. This was the freedom that the adoption gave him—the freedom to love his son openly, freely, without apology or explanation. He had loved Anton almost from the moment he had laid eyes on him, and it was only now, three years gone, that he could declare that love. It was false, what everyone always said about tragedy. Tragedy wasn’t not having someone to love. Tragedy was loving someone and not being able to express it.
He couldn’t stop crying. Great heaving sobs right here in the courtroom, in front of all the people he loved most in the world. Dee was saying something, but he barely heard her. He sat on the wooden bench in the front row and sobbed while the rest of them milled around him. It was a private ceremony, Bob fitting them in at the end of his workday, probably impatient for David to get a goddamn grip on himself so they could all go home.
David reached for Anton, pulling the boy onto the bench next to him. He felt he had something important to say on this happy occasion, some solemn promise to make, but each time he tried to speak, more tears flowed, as if he were talking in a kind of strange Morse code: Drip drip sob heave tear. “I’m sorry,” he mustered. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
From behind him, he heard an echo. “I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
He and Anton turned their heads at the same moment. Brad sat three rows behind them, holding his sides, convulsed with laughter. “I’m sorry,” he imitated David again. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
Anton looked at David with a frown, unsure how to react to this mockery of his father. “Bradley,” David heard Connor say. “Get over here. Right now.”
Brad bit down on his lower lip and quieted his glee with considerable effort as he walked to where his dad stood. “I’m sorry, man,” Connor was saying, taking a step toward David, when they heard a new sound, barely audible. It came from Anton. A giggle. Staring at his dad, trying his best to tamp down the giggles that escaped like squeaky springs out of him. Anton turned his head, made eye contact with Brad, and a loud bubbling sound escaped from his lips, and then both boys were in stitches.
David felt wounded for a moment, and then, watching the two boys so obviously teasing him, he felt the happiness of the occasion, like a sudden change in the weather. “You rascals,” he said, grinning.
Bob Campbell cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should all be making our way home.”
They rose. “We’re having a small celebration at home, Bob,” David said to his colleague as they walked down the marble steps that led to the parking lot. “Will you join us?”
“Nah. Thanks, though,” Campbell replied. “Sophia is waiting at home with supper.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“Yup.” Campbell turned to leave.
“Bob,” David said quietly. He stuck out his hand. “I just want to say—thank you. For. Everything.”
The fierce, restless eyes softened. “You’re fine,” Campbell said, taking the proffered hand. “He’s . . . he’s a good kid. Congratulations to all of you.”
David swallowed. “Thanks. I’ll never forget your kindness.”
He stood staring after the older man for a second, then said to Connor, “Hey. How about if you guys give Dee a ride with you? I need to have a quick talk with Anton.”
“No problem.”
“We’ll see you back at the house.”
BEFORE MARRYING DEE, David had thought of marriage as a legal formality, a piece of paper that changed nothing. And so he was surprised to find out it did. There had been a new tenderness, a responsibility that he’d felt toward Dee that had not been there the day before. Now he felt that same tender responsibility, that sense of permanence, as Anton slipped into the passenger seat.
“How you doing, bud?” he asked quietly as he drove down the familiar streets.
“I’m fine, David.”
He smiled ruefully to himself. “I have to ask you something. A favor.” He glanced at the boy. “Any chance you could stop calling me David? And call me, y’know, Dad?”
Anton nodded. “I meant to. I even do, to myself. I practice it. But sometimes it just slips out as David.”
David nodded. “I understand. I . . . just try. Okay?”
“Okay.” Anton gave him a quick bashful look. “Why were you crying today, Dad?”
“Because I was happy.”
Anton raised his eyebrow in the sly, teasing way that David loved. “So you cry when you’re happy? Do you eat when you’re thirsty? And stand when you’re tired?”
David hit the boy playfully on his arm. “Wise guy.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Have you never been so happy that it made you cry?”
Anton frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s a grown-up thing.”
“It must be,” Anton said promptly. “That’s why it makes no sense.”
David grinned. “So I heard you and FM planned the menu for tonight’s party. She let you pick all your favorite things?”
But Anton looked distracted. “David,” he said after a second, “if I’m gonna call you Dad, I should call FM Mom.”
David let the slip pass. “I guess so. You okay with that, buddy?”
It was so subtle, the iron that entered Anton’s body and voice, that David thought he might have imagined it. “Yeah,” Anton said. “It’s okay with me.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then David had to say it, even though it sounded corny, even though he risked giving Anton the giggles again. “Hey, listen,” he said. “You have a permanent home now, you hear? We love you. Nobody is going to hurt or harm you now. You understand? We’re gonna protect you the rest of your life.”