"Michael –" she started, then paused.
She had no answer for that because what I said was true. She had been planning to take her time or probably never even tell me. What was a few weeks or years to her when she had Robin? She didn't have to think about what it meant not to have her son, and she could make decisions that affected everyone on her own. I'd had enough of this. We could talk for hours, giving her more opportunities to lie to me. Or we could settle this in a fair way that didn't involve tears or the risk of us making love again.
"How can I trust you when it is so obvious that it's a terrible idea?" I asked. "You will be hearing from my lawyers, Jade."
She looked like I had just slapped her across the face.
"What?"
"You heard me. And you'll be lucky if you ever see even a photo of my son again."
"You can't do that!"
"That's where you are mistaken, Jade. Ican, and Iwill."
"No judge would allow you to do that. Getting someone pregnant after one night does not make you a father!" She shouted, tears starting to stream down her face again. "I was in labor for two days, Michael. Not two minutes or two hours, but two fucking days! I have lived for that boy ever since, and you are crazy if you think I will let a stranger waltz in and take him from me! I dare you to try it."
"You are not the only one capable of loving him," I shouted. "And do I need to remind you that thisstrangeris his father!"
She scoffed and crossed her arms before glaring at me. "I am not afraid of you," she declared.
"Your lying has finally caught up with you, Jade. I suggest you get prepared to pay for what you have done."
I moved out of her way as she stormed past me to the door, slamming it behind her as she left. I had hoped that this would be a civil discussion, but it seemed everything between us would always be supercharged. Whether it was attraction or anger, this was the only way we would get anything done, even though it was not my favorite option.
I took my phone out to call our family lawyer, but my phone started ringing. It was my mother, and I considered calling her later when I had a better frame of mind, but I thought better of it. Maybe talking to her would give me a better perspective, so I accepted her call.
"Mother," I said as I answered.
"Don't give me that tone," she scolded.
"I'm sorry, Mom. It's been a long day."
"What's wrong, sweetheart? Is it work?"
"No, it's a woman," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
"I wasn't aware that you were seeing anyone."
"I'm not seeing anyone. It's just a past fling. And there's no better way to say this than just saying it, so don't freak out, okay?"
"When have you ever known me to freak out, Michael?"
My mom was usually the epitome of poise and composure, rarely prone to dramatics. But she had her moments, and I hoped they wouldn't be one of them this time.
"I have a son," I said, then a silence of about thirty seconds ensued. "Mom?"
"You have a son?" She finally asked, sounding faint.
"Yes, I just found out about him."
"Oh sweetheart, that is splendid news!" She exclaimed in joy. "I've been ready to be a grandmother for years now."
I already knew this as she reminded me of that every birthday since I turned thirty.
"She kept my son from me, Mom. It's not going to be a happy arrangement."
"I know that tone, Michael Fletcher, and I suggest you tread carefully. How old is the boy?"