“That’s true. Although, with your filthy mouth, you might want to start practicing as soon as possible.”
I wink. “And you would know all about my filthy mouth, wouldn’t you?”
“Would we be here if I didn’t?”
Touché. I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that. She sounds like she’s teasing, yet there’s a hint of resignation in her tone. So, instead of trying to decipher her words, I continue.
“Anyways, the letter. I think I know what happened. You’re going to laugh…” I trail off when she pushes herself up on the bed, wincing in the process. “You okay? Fuck…I mean, hell. I mean, dang, I didn’t think about the actual delivery. Fu—freaking selfish of me. How are you feeling?”
I can’t believe I haven’t even asked her that. In the whirlwind of the last ten or so minutes, it didn’t even cross my mind to ask about the delivery, let alone the pregnancy. Was everything okay? Were there any complications? When the hell is his birthday?
Amelia must see the wheels turning in my brain. “Knox, calm down. We can talk about the delivery and everything else later. Tell me about why you think you didn’t receive the letter and why you think I’ll laugh. Because trust me, the last thing I wanted to do the last few months was laugh.”
Fuck. I want to apologize again, even if I’ve done nothing wrong. Instead, I sit back, gently bouncing Branson, and tell Amelia all about the hell that nearly broke loose in my house a few months ago.
“I don’t know everything, just the little bit Clay was able to get out of my mom. Long story short, a letter came across my father’s desk. His secretary, Lynn, generally screens his mail. Since she’s more loyal to my mom than my dad, she called Mom about this particular one…”
Amelia leans forward, listening intently as I recall the story as Clay told it. Mom didn’t even question the validity of the letter. She didn’t have to. She and Dad have been happily married for decades, and there’s no chance he’d step out on her. What she wanted to get to the bottom of was who was trying to extort my dad and what exactly did she want. Unfortunately, there was no return address, and they decided just to wait it out. To see if anything else came of it. Apparently, none of them even thought for a second that it could’ve been their son to knock a girl up and not come up to scratch.
When I get to the part about Mom saying that even though she’s old enough to be a grandma, the only person having my dad’s babies is her, Amelia cracks up.
“Stop, stop! I shouldn’t be laughing at this. I should be outraged. That letter was for your eyes only! Oh my god. If your mother ever finds out that the ‘hussy’ is me, I’ll never live it down!”
“Trust me, Amelia,” I say, lifting up the bundle of joy in my arms, “when she finds out who you are and the gift you’ve given her, she’ll be overwhelmed with joy.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but when she does meet Mom, it’ll take two seconds tops for her to realize that Kate Wellington is a force to be reckoned with and she loves freaking hard. Fuck, I can’t imagine the conversation I’m going to have with her about this. The question is: Do I call or drive home to spill the news? Call. Definitely call. I’m not leaving Amelia for a single second until we have this all worked out.
“So, since your dad received my letter, do you know what happened to it? Did they throw it out? Please tell me they threw it out.”
“Wish I could. I’m pretty sure Mom tucked it away into the safe at home in case he got another one. If a pattern was established, she wanted all the evidence. Hell, I’m going to have to call Mom. This is going to blow her mind. And now I’m definitely curious what you wrote.”
She nibbles on her lower lip. “It was pretty cut and dried. I wrote about seventeen drafts before I decided to keep it short and sweet. I didn’t want to seem like I needed you. I didn’t want to be seen as an obligation. Just…a quick ‘Hey, remember all those times we banged? Yeah, ya knocked me up.’”
“Cold,” I mutter, half joking, half not. “Thought you said you poured your heart out?”
She winces as her cheeks flush a deeper pink. “I know, I know. So maybe I embellished. But I did throw in an ‘I miss you.’ I’m sure I did.” She taps her forefinger on the edge of her chin. “And then I ended it with ‘If you want, you know where to find me,’” she says. “I suppose that wouldn’t have clued them on to this having anything to do with you. Oh god, what are they going to think of me?”
Even if I hadn’t told mom about Amelia before I left, I still know how she’ll be received. “They’re going to love you. They’re going to love Branson.”
Something crosses her face. “Even if he isn’t a Knox?” she asks quietly.
“It’s not even part of the equation, babe. It’s just a name. I promise. And when you’re feeling up to it, I can’t wait to hear how his name came to be.”
“We have a lot to discuss, don’t we?”
“Yeah, babe. I’d say we do. Good thing is we have all the time in the world.”
Where this sudden patience is coming from, I have no idea. Probably from the baby sleeping in the crook of my arm, and I send up a prayer of thanks that I had the best example of a father a guy could have.
She yawns, takes a glance at the sleeping baby in my arms, then settles in against her pillow. As much as I don’t want this conversation to end, I can tell she needs her sleep.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I can handle this little guy for a while,” I offer. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind a few moments alone with him and my thoughts to process it all.
“I should call the nurse. They can take him to the nursery. Get one last night of peace, quiet, and undisturbed sleep while I can. As much as I love her, there’s no way I can live with Sunny watching over my shoulder the way she’s tried to do for the last few months. The first thing I’m doing when I get home is kick her out.”
“Amelia, you don’t have to do this alone.” I shake my head. “No, you’re not doing this alone. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Ever again.”
Tired, green eyes stare back into my own defiant ones. “It’s a nice sentiment, Knox. It really is. But you don’t have to do this, either. You don’t have to stay. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. It’s not the fifties. No one’s holding a shotgun to your head. And you’re probably not thinking straight after getting the shock of a lifetime.”
“I’m not leaving, Amelia. I’m never leaving you or him.”
“Knox.” Her voice is a soft whisper of protest that I’m dying to drown out. “Your life is in Nashville. Not here. Not with us.”
“He’s my son. My life is where he is.” The conviction in my head and my heart doesn’t even surprise me. It’s a no-brainer. I should’ve stayed before. Or demanded Amelia come with me. Now that there’s both of them to consider, I’ll stay here forever if I have to. My future’s irrevocably changed and I don’t give a damn. I reaffirm my stance. “He’s my son.”