Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“He did,” he murmurs, then digs his phone from his pocket and holds it up. “Want to see?”
I nod fervently, leaning in beside him as he pulls up the video and presses play.
Mason’s legs come across the screen, and then there Deaton is, all smiles and big boy steps, straight into Mason’s waiting arms.
A choked laugh leaves me, and I look up at Mason with a watery smile, subconsciously pressing myself closer to him. I replay it over and over, taking the phone from Mason’s hands the tenth time through and turning up the volume so I can hear the laughter I see on Deaton’s face.
“Baby boy, you’re walking.” Mason’s voice is as soft as velvet, even through the phone speaker.
“Wait, Payton, don’t—” Mason rushes when he hears himself, reaching over swiftly, but Deaton bends, forcing his hand back.
My attention is locked on the screen, and then I hear it: Mason’s whispered words as he embraces my baby boy. “Daddy’s so proud of you.”
Every muscle in my body locks tight, my eyes glued to the still image at the end of the video and what a moment it captures. Mason’s eyes closed, Deaton smiling, his little fists latched just as tight to the man before him as the large hands pressing into his back.
Daddy.
Mason is…
“Oh my god,” I breathe. My vision blurs, and I gaze up at the man beside me.
Shadows cast over the space around us, and I’m struck with breathtaking clarity, as clear as it is cloudy. Echoes of regret reverberate around us, dragging me under and lifting me up.
I feel heavy and light at the same time.
All this time, I’ve stressed and lost sleep over Mason and what he meant to me and what that meant for me, but I didn’t pause to consider him and Deaton. I mean, I did, but not like this.
I knew he cared. That when he wasn’t around, Mason missed him and wished he could be there. I knew he loved him, would do anything for him, but I didn’t see.
My eyes weren’t open, so focused on the facts of what I knew had happened rather than what was happening.
Deaton didn’t have a dad, and that was my fault. I was the reason for that. I led him to California, and he died on his way home.
My son’s father died, leaving him without one. He had me and only me. Those were the facts. That is what I knew for certain.
But…that’s not true, is it?
It was never just him and me.
Panic rises in me, and I take a step back. And then another.
And then I spin, leaving my son in safe hands.
I leave him with his…daddy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Payton
Before, May
“He crawled a little yesterday. Backward mostly.” I laugh, shifting so I’m sitting up, leaning on the headboard. “But I think he’ll have the hang of it soon.”
He stands across the room, smiling softly at the sleeping baby boy in the bed. “I can’t believe how big he’s getting. And so fast. He’s going to be running around like a crazy kid soon enough.”
I nod, running my hand along his little back. “You know, my mom has never even tried to call. Not that I want her to, but he’s just so precious, you know? I’ll never understand how anyone could ignore that there’s a small piece of them out there they’ve never met.”
“That’s because he’s not a piece of her.” His deep brown eyes meet mine. “He’s you, Payton, and maybe he’ll be a bit of me one day, too.”
“He is,” I promise, a small frown building, one that doubles when I realize he’s not beside me like he should be. “Why are you so far away?”
My arm stretches out, my hand seeking his, but he only smiles, his head tipping a little. “I’m right here, baby…”
“Ma, mm, mm.”
My smile forms before my eyes peel open, locking on to a matching pair of blue ones.
I laugh, grunting when Deaton pushes on my belly and practically throws himself on top of me. “Well, good morning to you, too, mister.”
Mason chuckles, reaching over and lifting him off, pushing him into the air and flying him above us like he’s an airplane. “Say, ‘Mama, we’ve been up for so long, and we’re starving. We want waffles.’”
Tugging the blanket up to my chest, I turn in the bed, meeting Mason’s eyes over the covers. “Hi.”
His grin stretches, and he leans over, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Hi. I’ve got you guys here for one more day, and you’re wasting it.”
I gape, and he chuckles, climbing from the bed with Deaton in his arms.
“Little D is changed and dressed, and he ate half a jar of that nasty oatmeal stuff. My sister’s in the lobby with Noah, so we’re heading down to meet them by the pond.” He buckles him into the stroller as I sit up in the bed, then comes back this way, leaning over me with a smirk that makes my body heat. The heat of his lips washes over mine as he whispers against them, “Get that perfect little ass outta bed, Pretty Little. Your boys will be waiting.”