"I didn't know it was a secret!" Connor laughed again.
"Just remind me of this day when we meet your first girlfriend. I'll be sure to return the favor with something equally embarrassing," Declan said.
~Declan~
Dinner was finished, and I went wandering through the house in search of Connor. I hadn't seen him since we sat down to eat, and then he'd run off with Maddie to play again. I loved these visits I had with him —except for the end when I had to give him back. I hated that part. It reminded me of the f**ked-up situation I was in —the fact that I still couldn't tell him who I was, the fact that my son was being raised by someone else, and the fact that he still thought of me as nothing more than a close family friend. I was basically the family equivalent to an uncle.
I understood Sarah and Devin's reluctance. I did. I was just impatient. Connor had made such strides in the last few months. Every obstacle he'd faced, he had overcome. It hadn't been easy.
There had been days he'd spent with us where he would still cry and ask, "Why? Why her?"
I couldn't answer that for him. I didn't know why his mother had been taken so early in his life. Despite our falling-out, Heather had been a good person. I knew she'd made mistakes, and I hated that I couldn't get the first seven years of Connor's life back. Did I wish things were different though? Hell yes. If I could take his pain away, even at the cost of not knowing him, I would do it in an instant.
I found Maddie and Connor in the hallway downstairs, looking at old photos. There were photos of Clare and Logan, baby pictures of Maddie, and a few of Ethan, Clare's late husband. I thought it was cool of Logan to honor Ethan's memory. I wasn't so sure I'd be as accommodating as Logan was, but then again, I wasn't in his situation, so I guessed I'd never know. We all did what we had to do to love the person we were meant for, and Logan was doing just that. "That's my other Daddy. He's in heaven," I heard Maddie say to Connor.
I hung back, ducking into one of the spare bedrooms, curious to see their interaction.
"My mommy is in heaven, too," Connor said.
"Maybe they're friends!" Maddie suggested brightly, bringing a slight smile to Connor's face.
"Maybe. That would be cool. Was your Daddy nice?"
"He was really nice. He used to surf and take me to the beach when I was a baby."
"My mom liked the beach, too, so maybe they are surfing together in heaven."
"On pink waves!"
"Why would the waves be pink?" Connor asked.
"Because it's heaven. Duh," Maddie said.
I had to suppress a chuckle.
"Hey, look at this picture. That boy looks just like you!" Maddie said, pointing to a picture on the opposite wall.
I could just barely make it out. It was one I hadn't seen in a long time. It must have just been added to the wall. It was an old photograph of Logan and me from grade school. We had our arms around each other's shoulders in a boyish embrace, and we gave goofy smiles while looking at the camera.
"It does kinda. Who's the other boy?" Connor asked.
"I think that's my Daddy, Logan."
I heard Clare call for Maddie from the kitchen. Maddie had left a mess in the living room, and she was being told to clean it up. Maddie took off in a run, leaving Connor in the hallway. He stood frozen, staring at the photo of Logan and me.
"You know, we hated each other back then," I said, walking up next to him.
"That's you?"
"Yep. Logan and I go way back. We grew up together. Our fathers were close friends, and they figured their boys should be, too. Problem was, I hated Logan. He was annoying and pretentious."
"What does pretentious mean?"
"Stuck up."
"Oh, like Tyler at school. He says his dad is rich, and his room is filled with Iron Man toys."
"Yeah, exactly. Annoying, right?"
He nodded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his khakis shorts.
I continued, "So, we were forced to spend a lot of time together. We'd play nice whenever our fathers were around, which is how we ended up with pictures like this." I pointed to the frame on the wall, "But when their backs were turned, we'd be on each other in a second. Fists would fly, and we'd go home bruised and battered, both lying that we fell down or got a bit rough while wrestling."
Connor stared quietly at the picture a few moments longer, and then he looked back at me. I could see his wheels turning. Maddie was right. The Declan in that picture was a spitting image of the boy standing next to me. It would be hard to miss, and my son wasn't stupid. He'd already begun to ask questions here and there. He'd asked one day after a walk in the park if I knew who his Dad was. Another time while we were out for ice cream, he asked about his mom's friends, trying to find the missing link. I couldn't lie to him, so I'd always changed the subject. I would not tell him any more lies.
"You know last month, when it was my birthday and Sarah and Leah got me that cake that looked like a stack of pancakes?"
"Mmhmm, that was awesome."
Sarah and Leah had gone to a fancy bakery in Williamsburg and had it custom made. It was a new twist on an old tradition. Heather had made him pancakes on his birthday. We had made him a pancake birthday cake. It was a perfect melding of the old and new. It had been Leah's idea, and when she'd told me, I had fallen in love with her all over again. She never ceased to amaze me.
"And remember how I blew out the candle and made a wish?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know what I wished for?"
"For your mom to come back?"
"No," he answered, "I know that's not going to happen."
I was a little sad, but I was also proud of him for saying this. I was sad because he had to realize this at a young age, but I was so proud that he was finally able to come to terms with his mom's death.
"Well then, what did you wish for, Little Man?" I asked, looking down at his eyes that perfectly matched mine.
"I wished for my dad."
Words failed me. I forgot how to breathe.
He looked at that photo on the wall and then back at me. His eyes were so full of hope. "Declan, are you my dad?"
I just nodded and knelt down to catch him as he jumped into my arms. I held him tight, and tears stung my eyes as I finally was able to hold him as his father.
"I knew it. I knew you were my dad," he just kept saying over and over.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know," I answered back.
We clung to each other in the empty hallway, crying until there were no tears left. We held each other for as long as we could as if making up for every hug we'd missed over the last eight years of his life —every milestone, birthday wish, and accomplishment I'd never get back because I hadn't been there.