The Family Man

Some of her hurt must have been reflected on her face, because Bryan’s expression shifted, as if he was sorry he’d made that comment. But before he could speak, Ethan Danes loped over to them, his camera equipment slung over his shoulder as he juggled two pieces of pizza and a can of soda. Tall and rangy, his sparkling eyes crackling with energy, it was no wonder he’d been the Hamilton Media heartthrob until he’d lost his heart to Heather six months after his arrival at Nashville Living.

“Have you thought about how you want to illustrate that piece on separation anxiety? Because if you haven’t, I’ve got some ideas.” He took a huge bite of pizza and shifted his cameras into a more comfortable position.

Amy welcomed the distraction. She didn’t want to venture into personal territory with Bryan. It would be safer to confine their conversations to business. “By all means, tell us,” she encouraged.

“It’s a column, right? First person?” At Bryan’s nod, he continued. “Okay, how about we take some pictures of you getting your son ready for his first day of school? Maybe giving him breakfast, packing his knapsack, dropping him off? Readers like that personal touch. It puts a face on the issue.”

Faint furrows appeared on Bryan’s brow. “I’m not sure I want Dylan in the spotlight.”

“He’ll probably get a kick out of it. Unless you think the whole experience of going to school is stressful enough already.”

“No. He’s been in day care for years. Kindergarten won’t be much of a problem for either of us. He’s a little nervous about dealing with new people and a new school, but I dealt with the separation anxiety issue a long time ago.”

The traumatic memory hadn’t faded, however. As if it was yesterday, he recalled how it had just about ripped his heart out to drop his infant son at day care the first few weeks, after all they’d been through together. Born eight weeks early, tipping the scale a whisper above three pounds, Dylan had spent weeks in the neonatal intensive-care unit, much of the time on a ventilator. And it hadn’t been smooth sailing. Twice there had been setbacks, and Bryan had raced to the hospital in the middle of the night. As he’d stood in helpless vigil beside Dylan’s crib during those crises, his heart pounding, his vision blurred with tears, Dylan would look up at him with those huge, solemn brown eyes. Then his son would reach out his tiny hand and grasp Bryan’s finger with a surprisingly strong grip, as if to say, I’m going to make it, Dad. Don’t worry. And he had. But that had been the loneliest, most emotionally wrenching time in Bryan’s life. Not only had he lost the wife he’d loved, but he’d awakened every day to the fear that he would also lose the son she’d died trying to save. So leaving him at day care had been the toughest thing Bryan had ever done.

“Look, I can come up with something else. No big deal.”

At the sound of Ethan’s voice, Bryan pulled himself back from the past. Amy’s pensive expression told him that his face had revealed too much. Most of the time, he had his emotions under control. But for some reason he’d slipped up today.

“No. It’s not a bad idea.” He tried for a casual tone. “And you’re right. Dylan would probably enjoy it. Besides, it might get his mind off the fact that he’s going to be starting a new school and meeting a lot of new people.”

“What do you think, Amy?”

Still struggling to get a handle on the pain that had gripped Bryan’s eyes a few seconds before, it took her a moment to switch gears and respond to Ethan’s question. “Um…yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you want to art direct the shoot?”

She often did that. Ethan was great, but she had a good feel for composition, too, and for important pieces she often went along to provide a second opinion. While the introduction of a new columnist qualified the story as important, she knew Ethan could handle it. At the same time, she was curious to meet the little boy, after the expression she’d just seen on Bryan’s face. Still, if she wanted to remain aloof from Bryan, meeting his son wouldn’t be her smartest move. She needed to think this through. “I’ll check my schedule and let you know. Meanwhile, you two can work out the details. Good to have you on board, Bryan.”

Her welcome was perfunctory. As was Bryan’s response.

“Glad to be here.”

As she turned away and headed toward the door, Heather’s voice stopped her on the threshold.

“Amy! Don’t you want some pizza?”

Without breaking stride, Amy tossed a response over her shoulder. “I’m not that hungry. And I have another meeting to go to.”

Okay, so the meeting wasn’t for two hours, she acknowledged as she strode away. The part about not being hungry was true, though. Her appetite had vanished after her encounter with Bryan. Still, she’d expected the first conversation to be strained. Maybe even traumatic. But it would get easier.

Wouldn’t it?

“Adorable” was the only word she could think of to describe Dylan Healey. From her position near the school entrance, Amy watched Bryan and Dylan get out of their car, then wait for Ethan to find a parking spot and join them. As she walked toward them, she studied the little boy. His tousled auburn hair was the same hue as his dad’s, and he looked healthy and robust. Although his backpack, decorated with superhero cartoon figures, was all little boy, his horn-rimmed glasses gave him a studious and grown-up air. When she drew close he turned toward her, and she noted that he had Bryan’s green eyes, as well as an endearing sprinkling of freckles across his nose.

The little boy tugged on Bryan’s sleeve. “Hey, Dad, is that the lady you said was going to meet us here?”

Raising his head, Bryan looked in her direction. “Yeah.” As she closed the remaining distance between them, Bryan dropped a protective hand to his son’s shoulder. “Dylan, this is Ms. Hamilton. She’s in charge of the magazine where I work. Amy, this is my son, Dylan.”

It had been years since Amy had had much contact with children, and she felt a bit awkward as Dylan stared up at her, his expression solemn, as if he was trying to figure out whether he liked her or not. Adults did the same thing when they met new people, of course, but children were much more blatant in their assessment. For some reason, Amy wanted to pass muster with this little boy. Relying on her instincts, she dropped down to his level and smiled.

“Hello, Dylan.”

“Hi.”

“Are you excited about school?”

“I guess. Dad says I’ll like it. Grandpa does, too.”

“You’ll meet lots of new friends.”

“My dad is my best friend.”

Touched, Amy smiled. “I bet he feels the same way.”

“Do you have a little boy?”

A pang of regret tugged at her heart. “No.”

“Don’t you like kids?”

“Of course. Someday I might have a little boy or a little girl.”

He considered that. “Then you’d be a mommy, right?”

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. If she’d accepted the gift of love Bryan had offered her years ago, she already would be. This little one could have been hers. “Yes.”

“I used to have a mommy. She lives in heaven now.”

His matter-of-fact response didn’t lessen the emotional impact of his words. Amy’s face softened, and she was tempted to reach out and brush one of the unruly locks of hair off his forehead. Instead, she forced her lips into a smile. “I’m sure she still loves you very much.” And then, feeling out of her depth in this kind of discussion, she changed the subject. “I like your backpack.”

“Dad got it for me.” He directed an adoring look up Bryan. “He said we’d be doing important stuff in kindergarten, and that he wanted me to bring it home in this to show him.”

When she ventured a glance upward, the tender, loving look on Bryan’s face as he watched his son made Amy’s breath catch in her throat, and she blinked away the sting of unexpected tears. His expression reminded her of the way he had once looked at her, with profound love and absolute devotion. If Dylan idolized his father, it was clear that the feeling was mutual. The love between father and son was so strong, so potent, that Amy felt awed in its presence.

Bryan shifted his attention to her, and for a second he seemed thrown by whatever he saw on her face. But when Ethan came up beside them, the mood shifted.

“Sorry. I got hung up behind a stalled car. Hi, Amy.”

She took her time rising, buying herself a few seconds to regain her composure. “How did things go at the house?” She’d begged off joining Ethan at Bryan’s father’s house, unwilling to get that up close and personal.

“Great. It shouldn’t take us long to wrap up here.”

They got down to business, and in short order Ethan had taken a series of photos of Bryan and Dylan arriving, walking into the school, saying goodbye. Amy offered a few suggestions, but Ethan, as usual, needed little direction. It was Amy, however, who noticed the opportunity for the most poignant photo of all.

“Ethan, take one more. Use the telephoto, and get the school in the background,” she said in a low voice, motioning toward Bryan as the photographer began to store his equipment in his SUV. During the entire photo shoot, Bryan had been upbeat with Dylan, kidding him, laughing with him, encouraging him. Now the mood had changed. He’d opened the driver-side door of his car, propped one elbow on the roof and rested his chin on his wrist. His other hand was in his pocket, and he was staring toward the school with a pensive, melancholy expression that tugged at Amy’s heart.

Without commenting, Ethan switched lenses and clicked off a series of shots, unobtrusively changing angles and positions each time. When he finished, he rejoined her. “That may be the best stuff we did. The expression on his face is priceless.”