He leans back in his chair, holding a single sheet of paper in the right light so I can see print, but I’m unable to make out the words.
“In my hand, Mr. James, are the paternity results that you requested.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to control my shaking leg. I want to reach across the desk and rip that paper out of his hand and read it. Quinn squeals, catching my attention. I rub my hand on top of his head, his baby fine hair standing on end. He puts his chubby hand in his mouth and start sucking.
“The child known as Quinn James is yours. You’re ninety-nine point nine percent his father.”
I bend over and let out the breath I had been holding. My mom rubs my back as I fight back the sob that is threatening to take over. Five months ago when he showed up, I didn’t want him, but now I’d never let him go. He’s my son.
“I have more news,” my lawyer says. I stand up and give him a slight headshake for him to continue. “Miss Tucker has been located,” he says as he turns back to his desk. I freeze at the one name that can change anything. He sets his hands in front of him, his fingers forming a tent much like my guidance counselor at school when he’d speak to my mom about me not being social enough for his liking.
My lawyer may be pissing me off, but he’s been very upfront with my rights. Alicia can come back and take Quinn from me. All she has to do is claim some type of depression shit and I’d lose my son. He says the courts side with the mothers first and listen to the father’s later. I don’t want that.
“And?” I encourage him to continue. I need to know. I need to hear the words out of his mouth.
He extends his hand, holding a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Miss Tucker has signed away her parental rights. Quinn is yours and available for adoption by your wife when you choose to marry.”
“I’m never getting married,” I mumble as I read over the document saying she’s relinquishing all her parental rights. “He’s mine?”
“He’s yours, honey,” my mom says. She’s crying into my shoulder, but I know they’re happy tears because I’m shedding them as well.
“He’s mine.”
“Do you miss Meghan? If you do, I can call her and see if she’ll move here.” Maybe moving away from all the women in his life wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I didn’t think he would need them. Maybe I don’t know what an eight-year-old needs.
“No, it’s okay. I just…” he shrugs again. I reach forward and still his hand with mine. He looks up. I raise my eyebrow, waiting for him to answer me. “I like Katelyn. She’s nice to me.”
I sit back and study my son… the matchmaker, who knew? I like… no I fucking love that she’s nice to him and nothing would make me happier than for her give us a chance. I look out into the courtyard and watch a few people while I compose my thoughts. Dads and moms with their kids all getting ready for school, and here I am living the single life because I’m afraid to love anyone, except her. There’s something about her and I don’t know if I can say it’s just one thing. I love her hair, her eyes, or maybe it’s the way her lip curls when she’s really happy. She doesn’t know that I watch her like I do. That I take in her presence every chance I get.
I don’t know how to answer my son. For the first time ever, I’m going to clam up and keep my thoughts to myself for fear of what I might say. “Come on, let’s go to Noah’s. You can play and I can work for a bit.”
Quinn cleans up and carries the tray to the garbage can. He walks a bit slower. He’s either tired or thinks he’s done something to upset me. I bump him lightly, earning a grin, one that hasn’t changed from when he was a baby.
I can’t get Quinn’s comments out of my head. Pounding on the drums doesn’t do anything to alleviate my stress either. Every time I close my eyes I see her beneath me and hate that it’s all in my imagination. I need to get over her, to move on and get her out of my system.
The song that I had been working on during the tour is on replay in my mind. I pull the lyrics out of my pocket and pick up a pen. I know Liam has written songs about Josie and continues to do so. He says it’s one of the best things about them. He writes and sings to her and she’s instantly dropping her panties for him. Not that I want Katelyn to do that… right away, but it would be nice for the hot and cold to stop. I feel her heart race when we’re together, I know she wants it, but refuses to see that we can be anything more than what we are. Maybe if she doesn’t want to see how I feel, my words can convince. Maybe if she hears word
s from my heart about how I feel, those are from me and meant for her, she’ll stop and think about what we could be together.
“What are you working on?”
I spin on my stool to find Liam picking up his guitar. There’s no point in hiding the lyrics from him any longer, not if I want Katelyn to hear them. I hand him the paper, he takes it and starts moving his head up and down. He can already hear himself singing the words.
“When did you write this?”
“That night after the bar.”
“This is really good. Want to give it a go?”
“I don’t know. It’s about…” I shake my head and pick up my drumsticks. “I like her. Quinn likes her. I don’t know what to do.”
“She’ll come around and if she doesn’t, move on. Her loss.”
He strums his guitar and starts with the first line. He writes down some notes and starts over until he’s found a melody that will work.