His words stab me in the chest. Once I lay eyes on my own child, I won’t be able to give him up. I need to make sure it’s the right thing before I look at him.
“So, I became part of her life. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could. But Phoenix wanted more than just a father-figure. She wanted me—something I wasn’t willing to give her.”
“What changed?”
“Fate.”
I frown.
“I brought Rose to a playground. She was playing with a young boy her age. When she ran over to where I was sitting on the bench, she was dragging the young boy behind her. He was smaller than her, even though they were the same age. He had dark hair and was too thin in ratty clothes. It was clear he wasn’t taken care of as well as he should have been.”
I gasp—my son was hungry. He wore ratty clothes. I tried so hard to ensure he didn’t have the same life I did. He was adopted by a wealthy family, or so I thought. What happened?
“I wasn’t going to do anything other than talk to the foster agency and ensure he was placed with a better family. Maybe pay for his food or clothes—”
“I put him up for adoption with a wealthy family; he shouldn’t have been in the foster system.”
“His adoptive parents had died the year before.”
My eyes bulge. My poor son. Is he fated to live my same broken life? How can fate be so cruel?
Langston continues, “I was just going to help him out, since Rose had made a friend, something she didn’t do often. I’d been coming around for two years at this point, and she never made any friends. So her caring about this boy was a big deal. But then I saw his eyes.”
He stares into my own eyes. “I saw his eyes, and it was like I had found a missing piece of my soul. Eyes who hadn’t peered at me in years were now looking back at me. Big, beautiful hazel eyes. Eyes that belonged to my best friend. Eyes I would know anywhere.”
My eyes.
My son has my eyes.
The tear that I’ve been holding back finally falls, rolling gently down my cheek.
“I couldn’t leave him. I considered reaching out to you, but then I knew that you had given him up for a reason. The choice was now mine, not yours. I talked to the foster agency. I could adopt him; the only problem was Phoenix.”
I wipe my tears. “Why was Phoenix a problem?”
“Rose took an immediate liking to Atlas. I knew I couldn’t separate them. And I only had partial custody of Rose at the time. I knew I needed her to agree to take Atlas into her life. To love him like a son. She was hesitant to bring another child into our life. Especially when our life was complicated. I was gone working with Enzo for a long time, while she was left behind with Rose. I would come back as often as I could, but it still meant that she had to do more than her fair share of the child-rearing.”
He looks ashamed as he says his next words. His head hangs down, and his cheeks pinken. “I told her I’d do anything to make it happen. Atlas was my son, and I needed him and Rose to have the best life. Phoenix has her flaws, but she’s a great mother. My kids needed a mother and a father. They needed love from a supportive family, something that you and I never had growing up. So I asked her what she needed to make this happen.”
“And what did she ask of you?” My heart is beating a million miles a minute even though I already know the answer.
“She asked for more of my time. For me to spend more time with her and the children.”
I nod, imploring him to say the next words.
“And she asked that I marry her.”
My heart flatlines. Phoenix has everything I’ve ever wanted—a child of her own that she can love, my child, and my killer. She has it all, while I have nothing. I’ve been dealt all the pain, while she’s gotten all of the happiness. It’s not fair.
“So, you did?”
He nods. “I married her. She knew what she was getting—a man who would never be faithful, who would never love her, but would protect her and our children with my life. For her, that was enough. To have me be hers for an eternity.”
I close my eyes, taking it all in. Langston married Phoenix so that he could protect my child; I can’t fault him for that. I can’t fault him for protecting my child when I failed. I can’t fault him at all, even if it all hurts like a thousand needles attacking my skin all at once.
“Thank you,” I say, opening my eyes, more tears plunging down my warm cheek.
He stills, like I just slapped him. “What?”