“Don’t you?” he asked softly.

“I haven’t cried in years. But this last week, since telling Bryan the truth, I’ve been . . .” I shook my head, turning my gaze back to father and son.

Bryan had just picked Patrick up and swung him around. They were both laughing.

I clenched my teeth against emotion clawing at my throat and choked out, “I guess I feel guilty.”

“No. I don’t think that’s it.”

“I do. I mean, I kept them apart for so long.” Shaking my head, I felt the full weight of my terrible decisions. Part of me recalled Bryan’s affirmation that he wouldn’t have been worthy of fatherhood a few years ago, and that he understood why I didn’t tell him, but still. “I just hope he can forgive me.”

Sean was quiet a moment then gently prodded, “Who? Patrick or Bryan?”

“Patrick, of course.”

“You don’t care about Bryan’s forgiveness?” My cousin didn’t sound judgmental; he sounded curious.

I shrugged. “I guess it would make things easier if he didn’t abhor me.”

Now Sean released a scoffing laugh. “Bryan Leech may feel many things about you, but I guarantee none of them are anywhere close to abhorrence. Quite the opposite.”

I breathed out and with the exhale I felt a little—a very little—of my worries depart. Sean wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t soften a blow for the sake of my feelings. I trusted him more than anyone I knew, and if he said Bryan harbored no ill will toward me, then I believed him.

“That’s a relief.”

“Is it?” Sean nudged me with his shoulder.

I nodded, giving my cousin the side-eye. “It is. Raising a child is difficult enough without the parents constantly being at each other’s throats.”

“Ah, yes. A reality which both you and I have a veritable cornucopia of expertise.” He inhaled through his nose, his large chest expanding with the breath. “But, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I was distracted, because at that very moment, Patrick play-tackled Bryan and the big man fell to the ground in a dramatic display. This of course sent Patrick into a fit of giggles.

“What if Bryan wishes for more than co-parenting?”

I turned my head sharply to look at my cousin, the simmering fear rearing its ugly head and twisting my heart. “You mean, what if he wants full custody?” I couldn’t keep the shrieking quality out of my voice.

“Calm down.” Sean held his hands up. “Calm down, that’s not what I meant either. What if Bryan wishes to make the three of you into a family? What if his intentions toward you are of the matrimonial variety?”

My heart twisted again, in a different way but no less uncomfortable. I had to swallow before I could respond. “No.”

“No?”

“No. He doesn’t want that.”

Sean was quiet for a beat, then pushed, “Don’t be so sure.”

I snorted, scoffed, then shook my head. “Come on, Sean. Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? He just found out on Monday that he has a son. He’s just meeting him today.”

“Yes, but I warned you, Bryan is sturdy.”

“Like a table. You won’t let me forget.”

“That’s right. Like a table. Or an exceptionally well-crafted chair. The point is, he wants to be sturdy. For someone.”

“Let him be sturdy for Patrick, then.”

“Being there for Patrick means being there for you. Clearly, he longs for it, for responsibility.”

I shook my head before my cousin finished speaking. “I’m not his responsibility.”

“He may see things differently.”

“He can see them any way he likes, but that doesn’t make it so. Patrick is his. He and Patrick—you were right—they deserve to know each other. But I’m not going to be with someone simply because he’s the father of my child. Patrick shouldn’t be a pawn. I’m not a participation ribbon he gets for having a son.” I swallowed a sudden thickness and crossed my arms. “I deserve better than that.”

“So you do,” Sean quickly agreed, putting his arm around my shoulders and squeezing. “You deserve a prince.”

I didn’t reply, pretending to be too absorbed in the sight of Bryan and Patrick to respond. But what I didn’t say, what I couldn’t give a voice to, what caught in my throat, too heavy with emotion to be spoken out loud, was that I didn’t need a prince.

I’d happily settle for someone who wouldn’t forget me.

Chapter Thirteen

THEBryanLeech: If I’d invented jet skis I would’ve called them boatercycles #justsayin

SeanCassinova to THEBryanLeech: Glad to see you’re spending your free time productively.

*Bryan*

My kid was amazing.

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if it was my own vanity or what, but this surely had to be the best four-year-old in the whole entire world. No other kid could compare. Not ever. I was bloody smitten and it had only been an hour.

I could’ve kicked a ball around with him all day.

I took my phone out for a second to check the time, and his eyes lit up. “Pokémon!” he declared and tried to swipe the phone from me. I held it out of his reach, chuckling.

“Hey now, little thief. Poke-what?”

“Do you have Pokémon? On your phone? Mummy has it but she only lets me play for twenty minutes.”