His blue eyes soften when they look into mine, and he lets out a breath, “Let’s get this over with.”
We walk into the hospital and take the elevator to the fourth floor. We find Hannah’s room easy, but I hesitate to walk in. I know that my presence won’t be welcomed. Cole takes my hand and drags me with him.
“Cole, you’re here,” Hannah says in a tired voice. She lays in the bed in a hospital gown. I expect her to look worn from her hours of labor, but she looks good. When she sees me, her eyes narrow, and her face reddens in anger. “What is she doing here?”
An older woman, who I’m assuming is her mom, tuts. “Hannah, we’ve talked about this.”
And then a miracle happens: Hannah shuts her mouth.
The woman stands and hugs Cole, “I’m glad you came, son. Hannah will be discharged tomorrow morning, but Connor has to stay for at least a week. His lungs are mostly developed, and he looks healthy otherwise. We can do the paternity test and have it back tomorrow. Hannah can take you upstairs to see him now.”
She turns to me, “Hi, I’m Hannah’s mother, Cheryl.”
“I’m Cole’s friend, Blake.”
“Yes, I know. You can’t go with them, but you can stay here with me.”
I nod, letting go of Cole’s hand to sit on the bench on the other side of the room. Hannah gets out of bed and leads Cole out of the room. Cheryl says nothing to me while we sit in the room together. I occupy myself by checking emails, messaging the other guys, and playing games on my phone. About an hour later, they’re back.
Neither of them looks happy. Cole says nothing to Hannah. He politely says goodbye to her mother, takes my hand, and pulls me out of the room. We walk briskly out of the hospital without him saying a word. He’s silent until we get in the car when he throws his head back against the headrest and sighs.
“He has my nose,” he says quietly. He looks over at me, regret written all over his face. “I know that it doesn’t mean shit, but I think he’s mine. They swabbed my test.”
My throat has gone dry, so I clear it before I can speak. “Okay. Then you should contact a lawyer and figure out what to do from here.”
“I don’t know if I can do this alone,” he admits.
“You’re not alone. You have your family.”
“But I don’t have you,” he points out.
I gesture to myself, “Am I not here?”
“As a friend.”
“That’s all I can give right now, Cole. You know that.”
“Right now?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“Right now. No promises.”
He nods, “I’ll take it. I know I have more groveling to do. I am sorry that I lied and I hurt you.”
“Let’s just focus on one thing at a time right now.”
He nods, “Okay, just know this isn’t over.”
The next afternoon, the paternity test results confirm what Cole had already suspected. He has a son by a woman who isn’t me. Though he was almost sure of it, I had held out hope. And that hope was crushed, leaving a hole inside of me. Teenage me had dreamt about building a family with Cole, but now another woman has given him his firstborn.
It’s been a week since his son’s birth, and we’re again on our way to the hospital. I’ve supported Cole in any way he’s needed, giving gentle advice when asked or holding his hand when his feelings become overwhelming. There have been times when I couldn’t be strong anymore, and Foster or Talon have stepped up. They remind me that taking care of my own emotions is not being selfish. They’ve also been great friends to Cole. I want to think that this experience has shown us all what good can come from our group dynamic.
Cole’s been back a couple of times with his mom to visit baby Connor, but I haven’t returned until today. This isn’t just a visit and a time for them to discuss custody arrangements going forward. Everyone involved wants to keep things out of the courts as much as possible. The goal is an agreement reached on amicable terms.
We make our way to the fifth floor, where Hannah waits for us in the hallway wearing an everyday outfit of leggings and a hoodie. “They moved him to the regular nursery downstairs. They’re hoping to discharge him in two days. There’s an empty waiting room down the hall, though, where we can talk.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me but also doesn’t give me murder eyes, so I’m taking that as a win. We get to the room where her parents are waiting and greet each other before taking our seats.
“Thanks for meeting me here. I wanted to get a few things straight before Connor leaves the hospital. I will care for my son, providing anything he needs or wants. Based on my income, I will comply with the court's requirements. I will pay my share of any of the medical expenses. I will not, however, pay a large lump sum for the right to see my child. I’m confident the court will be on my side of that argument.”
