Reunited By Their Secret Son

Hannah winked. ‘What’s a best friend for?’

‘Babysitting?’

‘Any time. I love that boy. Ciao bella. Love you too.’ Then she darted out of the door, blowing a kiss. If it hadn’t been for her, Sophie would never had stayed sane over the last couple of years.

Closing the door behind her friend, she took a deep breath and tried to get rid of the strange feelings she’d had since seeing Finn. Through two and a half years of silence she’d been downright annoyed, then frustrated, then, to varying degrees, angry all over again. Eventually the simmering anger had faded into...nothing. She’d had no feelings about him at all. Until yesterday, when her ire had risen again, punctuated with the annoying fluster of being with someone who she’d been too honest with.

And then there was the giddy heartbeat and the uplift in her gut just to be around him and the little tug in her belly—stirrings of something she’d forgotten she was even capable of: attraction.

Damn him for appearing just as she was getting her life into some kind of routine after the craziness of childbirth and learning how to be a parent, especially when she’d had little blueprint for that from her own parents. She looked over at the only male she wanted in her life and her heart softened. ‘Okay, gorgeous little man, it’s time for bed. Come on, let’s get that bath run.’

After much splashing and then warm milk he was just about ready for bed. ‘Right, let’s get on and do your superhero boots.’

‘No.’ Lachie waddled to the other side of his bedroom and hid in the wardrobe. ‘No.’

‘Hey...don’t forget you’ll get the stickers. That nice man, Finn, at the clinic said you could have stickers.’ This was always wearing. The fight, the fight, the fight. She crawled over to the wardrobe and opened the door, found him sitting on the floor, his mouth set in an expression she’d seen on Finn earlier. God, they were similar. She’d pretended she hadn’t noticed before, but it was stark now. She put her hand on his leg and tickled. ‘Come out, Mr Monster.’

‘No. No boots.’ The kid had started to string two words together now and she’d be so proud of him if he hadn’t learnt the word ‘no’.

‘I’ll get the stickers and you can have one if you come out. You can have more if you sit still.’ She crawled back across the floor, opened a drawer in his cupboard and took out the stickers. Then she put on her sing-song voice. ‘One sticker for Lachie. One sticker for Lachie. Oh, this is a good one. Lachie’s favourite.’

After five minutes or so of playing this game to herself her boy eventually crawled out of the wardrobe, too nosy to be able to resist. ‘Dicker.’

‘When you have the boots and bars on.’

He shook his head.

She nodded and held the boots out. ‘Let’s put them on now. Now, Lachie, or no stickers at all.’

He didn’t make eye contact but he sat on the floor and put his feet out. She tugged him onto her lap and showed him the boots with yesterday’s stickers stuck on. ‘One sticker for one foot and one sticker for the other.’

She didn’t want to admit it, but the stickers had been a great idea.

Her mind did a leap from her son’s feet to his father’s. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to really think about Finn’s leg. She’d managed to keep her face straight when he’d told her about the amputation, but she couldn’t imagine how terrible that would have been for him. How hard that would have been to get over for a physical guy like him. And then there’d been the rugby...losing a leg would have been an absolute game changer for his sport, and it would have meant he’d have had to redefine himself.

That took guts. A lot of guts. There he was walking, working, giving. Coming up with solutions to help her—and yes, it was only a tiny thing, but it changed the dynamic between her and Lachie; it gave them something fun and rewarding and it worked...and for that she was grateful.

She felt a catch in her throat as Lachie sat still. She wiggled both feet into the boots and then snapped on the bars.

Your dad would be proud.

Whoa!

Where had that come from?

An hour later she was sipping a glass of red wine, staring at a book without seeing the words and trying hard not to think about Finn when her phone beeped.

Hey. This is Finn

Typical, just as she was starting to relax. Her heart tripped and she ignored it. He was not going to get under her skin this time. She was tempted to write Two and a half years too late but didn’t and instead texted back:

Oh. Wow. This is a first. You didn’t lose your phone, then?

Almost immediately he replied:

Ha-ha. No. Never again. Listen, I don’t need time to think about this. I’m in. 100%. When can we meet?

It was, if she was honest, a little hurtful that he hadn’t texted her after that night but was texting her now she had his son. But at least she knew where she stood; she was the mother of his child and nothing more. Good. That was what they needed. What she needed.

She texted him back:

Rules first.

Again, the reply came almost immediately:

Scary lady. What kind of rules? I won’t give him whisky, or let him play with knives, or drive my car.

She laughed to herself. If only it was that simple.

Gah! Where to start? He needs boundaries.

Don’t we all?

Judging by the way she was smiling to herself and imagining Finn reclining on that hotel bed, hair all dishevelled...naked...she was the one needing boundaries the most.

He needs lots of love and rewards for good behaviour.

Again, don’t we all? Does he get treats for being a good boy?

She laughed.

He’s a child, not a puppy.

Oh, aren’t they the same thing? Do I scratch his ears and rub his tummy and teach him tricks?

She flicked back at once:

Not if you want to keep me happy.

A message was back in seconds:

Of course I want to keep you happy.

It’s because I’m Lachie’s mum, nothing else.

But hot on its heels another message arrived:

Sophie, I’m sorry about...everything.