Who's Your Daddy? (14 page)

“You haven’t exactly been all that inviting, either.”

His eyes narrowed a little. “I’m his father. Of course he can talk to me.”

“Just like you can talk to yours?”

Donovan glared at me. “I have never—”

“I’m not saying you have.” I put up a hand. “You’re nothing like your father, Don, and I’d never imply you were. My point was that just being someone’s father doesn’t make you open and accessible. Your son needs to know he can come to you.”

The tension left his posture. His shoulders fell. “What do I do, then?”

“Have you thought about just sitting down and talking with him?” I asked. “Or, you know, talking in the car? Something?”

“I didn’t really think he wanted to talk to me, to be honest.”

“Which is what he thinks about you.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

Donovan winced and shifted his gaze away.

I went on. “He’s upset because the two of you yell and argue, but you never talk. He doesn’t think you’re interested in anything he does.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “What are we supposed to talk about?”

“Have you asked him what he wants to study in college?”

Donovan looked at the counter between us.

I went on, “You two need to settle as much of this as you can, sooner than later. He needs to know you care about him before he knows about the baby.”

“Of course I care about him!” Donovan snapped, immediately dropping his gaze and fidgeting. Softer now, he repeated, “Of course I care about him. You know that.”

“I know it, but does he? Don, he’s a kid. He’s had to deal with both his parents dating, getting into relationships, having more kids, having lives besides him. He needs that reassurance that he’s still important to you.”

He dropped his gaze, falling silent for a long moment. Then, speaking softly, he said, “What
does
he want to do after high school?”

“You might want to ask him.”

“Just humor me here, Isaac,” he said, and I swore he was almost pleading, especially when our eyes met. “Give me a place to start.”

I handed over our empty wineglasses. “Kid wants to go to law school.”

“Law school?” Though his eyes widened, a smile tried to flicker across his lips as he absently took the glasses. “Really?”

I nodded.

“Wow.” The smile came to life. Part of it was surprise; part of it was unmistakable fatherly pride. “I didn’t realize he was so ambitious.” His own words made him wince, and the smile faded. “God, what else do I not know about this kid?”

“Why don’t you talk to him and find out?”

Chapter Ten

Donovan

I was in the kitchen when my son came upstairs in his fast-food-chain uniform.

“I’m goin’ to work,” he said. “I’ll be home around ten.”

“
He’s upset because the two of you yell and argue, but you never talk
,” Isaac had said. “
He doesn’t think you’re interested in anything he does
.”

“Hang on a sec, Ryan.”

He stopped and turned around, one hand still on the door. “Yeah?”

I cleared my throat. “You, um, want a ride to work?”

He balked. “You don’t mind?”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m heading out anyway and figured you could use a little practice behind the wheel.”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

I tossed him the car keys. “Let’s go, then.”

He stared at the keys in his hand, then shot me an incredulous look. When I picked up my jacket and wallet, his eyes widened, like he hadn’t thought I was actually serious. Smiling, I nodded toward the door.

The “who are you and what have you done with my father?” look flickered across his eyes, but he didn’t question me as he started for the door. I followed him out to the car, pretending I was never a nervous wreck whenever I got into the car with him.

He unlocked my car’s doors and got in on the driver’s side.

I slid into the passenger seat. As I buckled my seat belt, I promised myself I’d bite my tongue and not get on him for his driving.

Ryan slung his arm over the back of my seat and looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. The tire grazed the curb, and he grimaced, probably expecting me to get on his case.

“Isaac hits that all the time,” I said, chuckling.

He eyed me, the “aliens took my dad and sent you in his place” expression still furrowing his brow. He said nothing, though, and shifted into drive.

As he drove out of the cul de sac and onto the main road leading out of the neighborhood, the speedometer needle hovered a few notches below the posted speed limit. Better than speeding, I supposed. Would have been painfully slow with a more experienced driver behind the wheel, but with my son driving, it was a comfortable pace.

And I had to give him some credit. Now that I made myself relax and let him drive without commenting on every move he made, his confidence came through more than it had before. His stops were smooth, and he took turns and curves without the timidity he’d had the first few times we’d been out. That shouldn’t have surprised me, and I supposed it didn’t. He’d started driving even before he was eligible for a learner’s permit, and every time he went out, he was better. He’d had his license for a few months now, and I hadn’t been in the car with him for some time. I’d let him take the car occasionally, as long as he wasn’t going too far, and now that I saw how he was driving, I could see letting him take it out farther and for longer periods.

Which scared the ever-loving fuck out of me, but I had to let him go eventually.

As he drove on, I cleared my throat. “So, Isaac tells me you’re thinking about going to law school?”

“I’m kinda, you know, thinking about it.”

A comment came to the tip of my tongue about focusing harder on grades, but I let it slide for now. “Any, um, particular school you’re thinking of?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe UCLA or something.”

I looked at him. “Out of state, then?”

“Maybe.” He glanced at me. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”
Out-of-state tuition with a baby in the house? This could get pricey. And I still have to tell Ryan about the
—I cleared my throat. “I mean, it’ll be more expensive, so we’ll have to plan ahead a bit. You might have to look into some student loans.” I paused. “But, we’ll work it out if that’s what you want to do.”

“Cool.” Ryan swallowed. He stared out the windshield for a long moment without speaking, but the way he chewed his lip suggested he was trying to figure out how to say something. Isaac always said my son and I did that, that he could always tell when one of us knew what we wanted to say, just didn’t know how to say it.

Ryan muffled a cough and glanced at me. “So, is there any chance of me getting a car any time soon?”

I took a breath. “It’s…a possibility. If you’re considering going to school out of state, you might have to help pony up for some of it.”

“I have about five hundred saved,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Do you?”

He nodded. “I’m trying to get some more hours, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“Hmm.” I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “Tell you what. You save up seven fifty, and I’ll come up with fifteen hundred.”

Ryan’s head snapped toward me, but he quickly looked back at the road in front of him. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” I said. “We should be able to find you something halfway decent for that. Gas is going to be your responsibility, but I’ll pay half your insurance. You get a ticket or get in a wreck? Insurance is all yours, and you’re buying the next car.”

He nodded. “Got it.” Then he smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome,” I said quietly. Neither of us spoke again as he drove the last couple of blocks to the restaurant where he worked.

He pulled up and parked, and after he’d shut off the engine, we both got out.

Ryan handed me the keys. For a moment, we stood in silence, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, he muffled a cough and gestured toward the restaurant. “Well, thanks for the lift.”

I nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

We looked at each other, like we each expected the other to say something more. Or there was some other step here that neither of us was aware of, something a father and son should do or say before we went our separate ways.

God, I suck at this.

“You’d probably, um, better get to work,” I said. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Right, no.” He took a step back. “Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

With that, he turned and walked onto the sidewalk, then disappeared into the restaurant.

I released a long breath. This was the first conversation we’d had in recent memory that didn’t involve Ryan mouthing off at me or me wanting to wring his neck. Now that we’d finally had a discussion like this again, I realized it had been way, way too long.

I spun my key ring on my finger and threw one more glance at the door my son had gone through a moment ago. It was just one car ride, just one short conversation, but it was a start. Isaac always told me communication starts with one conversation, then two, then three, and so on. We had a few difficult conversations coming up on the horizon, but we’d gotten one short, relatively easy one out of the way.

It was a start.

“Is Carmen here yet?” I asked Isaac when I arrived at the restaurant.

“Not yet,” he said. “She called a few minutes ago and said she got hung up talking to her agent about something, so she’s running ten or fifteen minutes late.”

“Maybe that means good news, then.” I flipped open the menu but didn’t really look at it. “Usually does if she’s talking to her agent for any length of time.”

Isaac shrugged. “She sounded like she was in a good mood, so…”

“Well, that’s promising.” I leaned in to kiss him. “Missed you the last couple of nights, by the way.”

He put his arm around my waist. “We’ll make up for it tonight.” He winked, and goose bumps prickled down my back.

“Damn right we will,” I said.

Isaac drained his glass and set it down. “So, I’m curious. Is it true what they say about pregnant women and hormones?”

“Which part?”

“The mood swings.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t run into this in your line of work, Mr. Expert?”

He laughed. “Okay, I have, but…” His smile faded a little, and he shrugged. “Usually my clients are addressing other issues, so humor me. I’m clueless.”

I nodded. “Yep. It’s true.”

“So how do I tell if she’s upset because of hormones or because she really is upset about something?”

“You know Carmen pretty well,” I said. “Just stop and ask yourself if it’s something that would normally set her off. If it is, well, it is. If not, it’s the hormones talking.” I grimaced. “And whatever you do,
don’t
tell her which conclusion you’ve come to.”

“Speaking from experience?”

I nodded. “Julia threw a book at my head when she was about six months pregnant.” Laughing, I idly traced designs in the condensation on my glass with my finger. “And then, being the smartass, stressed-out kid I was, I told her to rein in the hormones.”

He laughed. “Dear God, did you have a death wish?”

“Apparently so.”

“So what did she do?”

“Threw a bigger book at me.”

“To be fair,” Isaac said, “you did ask for it.”

“I won’t argue with that.” I shrugged. Then I grinned. “Oh, and that other thing they say about the hormones? Where her sex drive goes through the roof?”

“Tell me it’s true.”

“Doesn’t happen with every woman, but oh my God, if it does?” I whistled.

“So she wasn’t kidding the other night?” Isaac looked up from pouring us each a second glass. “When she said it was the hormones kicking in?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” I shrugged. “I mean, she
was
in bed with two hot men, and who wouldn’t get horny in that situation?”

“Right, of course, how could I overlook that part?” He laughed. “Okay, stupid question from a clueless guy who never thought he’d need to know anything about pregnancy.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is there a point when it’s not safe to have sex with her anymore?”

“Well, it’s not generally recommended in the delivery room.”

Isaac snorted. “Smartass.”

I chuckled and waved a hand. “As long as she’s still comfortable and still wants it, and her doctor hasn’t said there’s a reason to avoid it, there’s no set cutoff.”

“Really?”

“Dude, didn’t I ever tell you how Julia went into labor?”

He stared at me. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

“
Ooh
, no. Dead serious.” My eyes lost focus and I shook my head. Bringing my glass up to my lips but not sipping it yet, I said, “She wanted it right up until the end. She probably would have
killed
to have two guys at her disposal at that point.”