We made small talk throughout our meal, and then I cleaned up. There weren’t enough dishes to run the dishwasher, so I washed while Drew dried. The two of us worked well together, and I found myself thinking it was interesting how in the office our opinions and counsel were so opposite, yet physically we were so in sync.
“You want a drink? Glass of wine or something?” he asked when the kitchen was put back together neatly.
“No, thanks. I’m too full.”
He nodded. “Come on, let’s go sit in the living room.”
Drew moved the pillows on the couch around, putting one at the end for my head, then pointed. “Lie down.”
He stood until I got myself comfortable. Then he lifted my legs and set my feet across his lap. “You ticklish?”
“Are you going to make it a challenge if I tell you I’m not?”
He flashed me a crooked smile. “No. I was going to rub your feet.”
I smiled and lifted one of my feet in the air, offering it to him. “I’m not ticklish. But when you admit that to people, they find it necessary to dig their fingers into your ribs until you bruise trying to prove you’re wrong.”
Drew took my foot and began to rub. His fingers were strong, and when he took his thumbs and deftly rubbed at a spot on the ball of my foot—the spot where my heels placed most of my body weight—I let out a little mewl.
“Good?”
“Better than good,” I sighed.
After a few minutes of his rubbing, my entire body relaxed, and Drew started to speak in a low voice. “Beck was five years old when he got into an accident with my ex-wife.”
Oh, God.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Drew’s brow furrowed, and then he quickly seemed to realize what I thought. “Oh, shit. No. I didn’t mean to make you think…he’s fine. Beck’s fine.”
My hand went to my chest. “Jesus. You scared the crap out of me. I thought…”
“Yeah. I realize that now. Sorry. He’s fine. It was scary for a while after the accident, but now you wouldn’t even know he went through three surgeries.”
“Three surgeries? What happened to him?”
“A delivery van creamed Alexa’s car, and it crumpled into a V around the van.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Beck’s booster seat and part of the car door cut into his side, lacerating his kidney. Surgeons tried to repair it, but because of the location and size of the tear, they had to remove part of it. The day of his accident he had a partial nephrectomy on his left kidney.”
“Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He took a minute and then continued. “While he was in surgery, the nurses offered to have us donate blood. I felt helpless, and I wanted to do whatever I could.”
“Of course.”
“Anyway, they ran a type and cross match blood test on both me and Alexa to see if we were a match to donate and store blood for Beck. Turned out neither of us was.”
“I didn’t realize two parents could have a child they couldn’t donate blood to?”
Drew leveled me with a look. “They can’t.”
It took a few heartbeats for me to realize what he was saying. “You found out Beck isn’t your son.”
He nodded. “I was there for the delivery, so I was damn sure he was Alexa’s biological child.”