“It’s a serious matter.”
He reluctantly drops the toy and comes to stand between my legs. I lift his little body up and place him on my legs. “Remember when you asked me if you had a father?”
He nods.
“I’ve spoken to him and he wants to meet you.”
His eyes widen. “Where is he?”
I take a deep breath. “That’s the thing. You’ve been staying in his home for the past three days.”
He frowns and then his mouth forms an O as what I am saying dawns on him “Are you saying that Uncle Damien is my father.”
I nod. “I think he’d prefer it if you call him dad than Uncle Damien.”
Rather than seeing Damien enter the room, I feel his presence. When Lake sees him, Lake seems uncertain. “It’s true, I say. Ask him.”
Lake turns to Damien. “Is it?”
He nods. Lake gets off my lap and rushes over to him. Damien receives his hug just as enthusiastically and drops to his knees to embrace him. “I’ve always wanted a Dad,” Lake says.
“And I’ve always wanted a son,” Damien replies. When I look at Damien, I swear his eyes are filled with tears. I’ve never seen him crying. I thought he had no tears. But he does. He saved them for his son.
Chapter 12
Ivy
“I’m going to Paris on a business trip,” Damien announces. I look up from my cereal bowl to watch him as he spreads jelly on Lake’s toast. It’s been a week since Lake learned Damien is his father, and the novelty of that information hasn’t worn off yet. Lake wants Damien to do things with him and for him. Last night when I came back from work, I heard splashes and laughter coming from Lake’s room and saw Lake enjoying a bath while Damien poured water on him. Late that night, they took two video game controllers and played a game together. Sometimes it felt like they deliberately picked activities that would exclude me. Little by little, Damien is taking my son away. I don’t want to think like that, but it’s I can’t stop, and it’s keeping me up all night.
I chew down the cereal I had just scooped. “Enjoy Paris for us.” Meanwhile, I will get a divorce and Lake and I will get out of dodge. Or at least until the custody matter between Damien and me has been settled.
“I’m taking Lake with me,” he says.
My spoon slips out of my hand and clutters onto the marble counter. “Excuse me?”
He dips his knife into a jar of peanut butter and spreads it on the toast before giving it to Lake. “Have you ever been to Disneyland Paris?”Lake, who immediately takes a bite as soonas he holds the toast, shakes his head, mouth full and smeared with brown and red blobs.
“Would you like to visit?”
He nods his head vigorously.
Damien nonchalantly says, “Lake wants to come.”
“What the frig? No!”
Lake’s face fall. Through a mouth full of toast he says, “But I’ve never been to Disneyland. You said we would go.”
Embarrassed at my sudden outburst, I calm myself and turn to Lake. “What I mean is honey, we can’t go now.”
“Why not?”
I scramble for a plausible excuse that won’t make it obvious that I don’t want the two of them alone in a foreign country. Damien might be a good father, but I don’t trust him yet. He’s experienced the good and fun Lake. He hasn’t experienced the tantrum-throwing, stubborn Lake. If Lake were to spend more than a day with someone he barely knows and in a place, he’s never been to, I guarantee he would start acting unruly and demanding to come back home. Heck, even though he enjoys staying with Damien, he still asks me from time to time when we will be going back home.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” I say to Damien.
Reluctantly, he gets up from his stool and follows me outside the breakfast room. He leans against the door, waiting for me to speak. He’s wearing a two-piece suit that is immaculately tailored and makes him look like the handsome Wall Street devil the papers like to call him. No one has a right to look this good. Especially not him. I cross my arms and straighten my posture. I’m a grown-up now and I am not easily swayed by a cute face, I tell myself. “You can’t just go to a foreign country with my son.”
“I never said you weren’t allowed to come. You can always tag along.” His gaze caresses me in its usual manner of both undressing me and finding me repulsive.
