Dear mouth, insert foot, ’cause I’m a jackass.
Her eyes flash with both anger and torment. Her jaw clenches, and with her teeth gritted, she gives me an arctic stare. It’s a sight. My son suckling at her breast while she’s shooting daggers at me. It’s the most inappropriate time, but my cock twitches.
Until she opens her mouth.
“Then you can leave, Knox. I didn’t ask you to come here. I’m not asking you to stay.”
It’s almost enough to make me laugh. As if I’m fucking going anywhere. Oh, no. Amelia just earned herself a fucking shadow for life.
“No. That’s not that what I meant. It came out wrong.” I run a hand through my hair, still reeling.
I can’t believe it. I’m a dad. I have a son. My brain’s a jumbled mess, and it’s like I have sand in my mouth, unable to speak as I attempt to figure out how to explain without her thinking I’m an idiot.
“I should’ve told you before, but you didn’t want to talk about names or anything that could connect us. You know I’m a Wellington. I’m also a junior.” Something that looks like realization flashes in her eyes, but I hurry to explain further. “My dad’s Knox Nathaniel, as am I, and I’d always planned on carrying on the tradition with my first son.”
She doesn’t even have to think about her retort. “Then feel free to find someone else to have your firstborn with.”
I want to fucking scream. To shout at her. But she just gave birth to my son, so I rein my temper in.
I stand, moving closer to her, and look down at the little guy who’s now nuzzling against his momma’s skin. My little guy. “Amelia, I don’t give a damn what his name is. He’s mine. That’s all that matters. You’re both mine.”
She winces, and I have a feeling it’s going to take some convincing. But I don’t care how long it takes. It’s a battle I’ll wage until the end of my days if that’s what it takes.
I came back for Amelia because I love her. I need her. I can’t live my life without her. This little guy? He makes it that much more imperative that I make her believe it.
“Just because I didn’t plan this doesn’t mean I’m not happy,” I tell her. “It just…you know, was unplanned.”
“Knox, you can make all the plans in the world. Doesn’t mean life won’t throw a wrench in them.”
“No shit.” I pause then grimace. “Sorry. Guess I should, uh, get a handle on that cursing.”
Amelia gifts me with a soft smile. “I know this is a shock to you. It was to me, too. I just had seven months to get used to it.”
“That’s a bit of an understatement.”
I missed it all. The excitement and probably terror of a positive pregnancy test. The first ultrasound. The first beautiful echo of the heartbeat. The thrill of learning the gender, and the beaming pride of knowing I’d be welcoming a son in the near future. I missed out on wrapping my arms around her swollen belly and playing with her tits as they changed while our son grew inside her.
When I was missing her, I had no clue just how much I was truly missing.
I want to bellow in fury. Rage for all the time, all the memories, all the experiences that have been stolen from me. But I can’t. Not with Amelia lying here, looking more beautiful than ever with our son on her breast.
She bites her lower lip, and I feel like an ass, so I soften up a bit and ask the question that’s been lurking in the back of my mind since the hammer that is Branson hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Want to hold him?” she asks, purposely evading the question.
The distraction works. For now.
I carefully reach out for him, and when she gingerly sets him in my arms, our eyes meet. This moment feels so powerful, so right, that I’m nearly undone. It’s just the three of us, lost in our own little corner of the world.
Our own little family.
“Amelia,” I whisper, unsure of how to continue. Uncertain of what to even say. I don’t think I have the words. All my plans were thrown out the window with the revelation of our son. I’d intended to tell her I love her the moment I saw her, but it just doesn’t feel right doing it here.
Except it feels exactly right.
She looks away from me, with a small shrug of her shoulders. Her fingers toy with the blanket covering her. The ticking clock sounds off to every second she continues to ignore me. I want answers, yet I don’t want to pressure her. I glance down at Branson, whose little eyelids are fluttering shut as if this conversation isn’t one of the most important of his very short life so far. He’s a baby, I know, but I can’t help the reassuring half smile I give him. Because I know, no matter the outcome of this with Amelia, I’m his dad. Nothing will change that. We’re going to be a family even if I have to haul her off and hold her captive in the wilderness until she gets that I’ll never leave her. Never leave them. Never again.
“Knox.”
My head jerks up and I see Amelia’s dreamy eyes on me.
“He looks good on you.”
Not wanting to disturb his slumber, I let my laugh come out in the form of a breath. “Gotta say he looked much better on you a few minutes ago. Even if I had a question, seeing the way he went at that nipple tells me he’s all my boy.”
Just like that, I’m greeted to one of my favorite signature Amelia expressions. A rush of heat colors her otherwise pale cheeks, and one corner of her mouth lifts up into a sheepish grin.
“Like father, like son. Though I have to say it’s quite a bit different from what you like to do.”
It’s present tense, and I don’t miss it. She hasn’t put us—me—in the past. Not yet. It gives me hope.
Her eyes flick away. Then she pushes a strand of hair behind her eyes and lays her hands in her lap. “Nothing can prepare you for breastfeeding.”
I know what she’s doing and I’m not going to let her use her breasts to distract me from what we need to discuss. But hell, they are distracting.
“Melia…” It’s a gentle nudge, one that I hope works.
She blows out a breath. “I did, you know.”
“Did what?” I ask, eager to know everything I’ve missed.
She lets out a cheerless laugh. “I sent you a letter. Or, well, at least I thought I sent it to you. Now…I just don’t know.”
I want to lean forward, give her my undivided attention, but I rock Branson in my arms, willing her to continue without my prodding.
“I thought to myself, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if there was some way to easily look up someone’s information without having to hire some private investigator to track someone down?’ But I didn’t need to. As soon as I told Grams about the baby, who the father was, she knew the Wellingtons of Nashville.” She shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. “Duh, right? I mean, I guess I could’ve started with looking for a Wellington-named company. I never imagined it’d be that easy. Nashville isn’t that big.”
It’s a struggle to maintain my composure. To think that she might have reached out, when all this time I thought she was content with us having gone our separate ways. When, instead, she was carrying my child, alone.