Coffee doesn't help either. I stare at the bare walls of my kitchen, realizing for the first time how empty this place is. No pictures. No mess. Nothing that says someone lives here beyond the basics.
My mug hits the counter harder than intended. Coffee splashes over the rim.
"Shit."
It's just coffee. But it's not just coffee. It's everything—this house, my life, the emptiness I never noticed until now.
Beckett's laugh echoes in my head."We're all going to get Christmas trees! One for our house and one for Warren's!"The pure excitement in his voice, like it's the most natural thing in the world that we'd do this together.
It should be.
My chest tightens. My son. My son, who doesn't know he's mine.
I grab paper towels, mop up the spill, but freeze mid-motion. The memory of Beckett carefully cutting paper snowflakes hits me with physical force. His tongue, sticking out in concentration, makes me smile.
The way he looked up at me for approval melted me on the spot."Like this, Warren?"
That's not my name to him. It should be Dad. It should have been Dad from the beginning.
But I wasn't there. And whose fault is that? Janie kepthim from me, yes. But I blocked her. I walked away that morning. I was too afraid of what Blake would think, what her parents would say, to even consider what we might build together.
What a fucking douchebag coward.
Now we're sneaking around like teenagers. Hiding what we feel. Building something neither of us can name.
I don't know if I can trust this bubble thing between us. Don't know if it will hold when the truth comes out. Because it will come out. We can't hide a child forever.
The coffee spill mocks me. I'm not this guy. Not the type who spills things, makes messes, loses focus. Yet here I am, staring at the brown puddle spreading across my granite counter.
My phone vibrates. It's Janie's name on the screen, and my heart speeds up to a sprint.
I take a breath before answering. "Good morning."
"Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you."
"I've been up for two hours."
"Early riser on a weekend."
"Habit."
"Hey, I wanted to call and tell you again. I'm so sorry about yesterday." Her voice sounds hoarse, tired. "That Branson situation was a complete disaster. I really appreciate you stepping in so I could go deal with it."
"You don't have to apologize. I told you. Is everything okay now?"
"It's not settled, but we took care of the immediate issue. Pope flew in an allergy specialist from Charleston specifically to see his son." She sighs.
"You did all you could. Try to put it behind you so you can enjoy the weekend."
"Becks said he loved being with you. I love it, too."
I lean against the counter, a warmth filling my chest atthe mention of his name. "He was perfect. I hope you like paper snowflakes for decoration. You have enough to cover the house."
"It looks like Christmas exploded around here. It's amazing."
"Good."
"He's excited about the trees. Are we still on for that? Do you have any thoughts about where we should go? Lowes down the street? I think I saw another one on Okeechobee yesterday on my way back home."