Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The little boy grins, then looks up at me, and I just about lose my footing. He’s sporting two huge dimples in his cheeks, identical to my dad, my brother, and me. I try to do the math in my head, but I don’t know how old he is. There’s no way.
“Blakely,” I say, my voice raspy from shock. “Is he…” I can’t even finish my sentence. This doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a coincidence. But then I remember she never did tell me who the dad was. If it were Brenton, he would’ve said something. That would’ve been the perfect way to stake his claim.
Blakely stands, her face showing no emotion. “Let’s go for that walk.” Then she turns back to her son. “I’ll be home in a little while. I love you.”
“Love you too!” he yells, already running back inside, probably going straight to the kitchen to get his ice cream.
The front door closes, and we head down the hallway and stairs in silence. I let Blakely guide us across the parking lot and down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of campus toward the park that’s adjacent to the complex she lives in. My intention is to let her lead the conversation, but my anxiousness gets the best of me, my mind going crazy with different scenarios, and before we make it to the park, I grip her shoulder and spin her around.
“Is he mine?” I blurt out.
Blakely’s gaze meets mine. Tears glisten in her eyes, and she chews on that damn bottom lip. Her eyelids flutter shut, and several drops of liquid fall. And with her eyes still closed, she nods once. “Yes,” she whispers, “he’s yours.”
Blakely
Without waiting for Keegan to say anything, I pick up my pace, speed walking to the park I’ve been taking Zane to since he was born. It first started out as walks in his stroller, but as he got older, it turned into picnics in the grass, and now he plays on all of the equipment.
We sit on a bench a little ways away from the playground, in between the empty field where Zane loves to kick the ball, and the basketball court where he’ll spend hours drawing with chalk on the blacktop.
We sit in silence for several minutes. I remember the shock I felt when I found out I was pregnant, so I can imagine what’s going through Keegan’s head. Only he’s not finding out I’m pregnant, but that he has a three-year-old son.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he finally says. “We were careful. We used condoms.” He sighs loudly, and I turn my body to face him, so he knows he has my attention. “We used condoms every time.” His tone isn’t malicious. It’s confused. And I don’t blame him. I had the same reaction when I found out.
“I guess you’ll have to ask your condoms what happened,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself, if it wasn’t for my protruding belly, the ultrasound pictures, and at the end of the nine months, me pushing a watermelon-sized baby out of my tomato-sized hole.”
Keegan flinches. “Sorry, kind of graphic, huh?” I say through a laugh, remembering the ridiculousness of my labor and delivery. “You should’ve been there. For a minute, I wasn’t sure he was coming out. At one point, I think I even begged the doctor to just keep him inside me so I wouldn’t have to push anymore. But of course, eventually he came out. All eight pounds, four ounces of him.”
Keegan’s brows furrow together and his lips curve into a frown. “I wasn’t there,” he murmurs with a shake of his head. “We used condoms,” he says again, and I worry he’s in shock.
“We did,” I say gently. “But they’re not one hundred percent effective.”
Keegan nods slowly, still in some kind of shocked trance, and I worry that maybe he doesn’t think Zane is his. “We could do a paternity test,” I say, and his frown morphs into a scowl.
“I know he’s mine. He looks just like Kolton and me. He even looks like Keith.”
“Who’s Keith?”
Keegan’s eyes wince as if he’s in pain. “He is… was… my older brother. He died a few years ago.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about him, though. I just meant that Zane—that’s his name, right?”
“Yeah.” I swallow thickly. “It’s Zane Keegan Jacobs.” His features soften at hearing Zane’s full name. “I wanted him to have a part of you, especially since I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”
Keegan nods in understanding. “That means a lot to me. I just meant that Zane looks identical to my brothers and me when we were little. I’ll have to show you some pictures one day.”
“I would like that.”
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, and I imagine it’s because neither of us knows where to go from here. So, I decide to tell him a truth in hope of breaking the ice, and also, maybe to find out some things about him. “Sierra and I moved here when I was seven months pregnant, and every day I would go for a walk around campus. I didn’t start school until Zane was eight months old, but we still went for walks every day. You said you went to school here, so I searched for you every day for months. I even asked students and professors if they knew a Keegan, but no one knew who you were.”