Faking It For Mr Right

“Even if it’s for your own good?” Dad asks, but he’s grinning at the same time, his eyes alight with mirth.

“Even then,” I tell him. Then I accept the cigar for another long puff. “And don’t let this one victory go to your head,” I warn him.

He snickers. Then he claps my back. “Don’t worry, son. It already has.” We both laugh, but he gazes at me steadily, serious. “I look at you, and I see what your mother and I had. And that’s all I could possibly ask for for my child. For a life as happy as the one I’ve had.”

We hug, and he slaps my back hard enough to make me cough cigar smoke across his coat. Then I pull away, shaking my head. “I should get back.”

“Of course.” He tips the cigar in my direction. “I’ll be up once I put this out. But go be with your wife. Hug her, hold her close. Tell her you love her every damn day, son. Enjoy your life.”

I grin. And then I turn around to head back into the building, to do just that.

Upstairs, I find Patricia cradling Beth, cooing to her as they sway across the room. Marco is in the corner chatting to Devan, who’s texting with one hand even as they talk. Probably updating Andrew, I’m sure. As for Melanie… Her gaze finds mine, and she stretches out a hand.

A second later, I’m at her side. If she reaches for me, I always want to be there for her. I wrap my fingers around hers, raise her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles softly, one by one.

She smiles, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. “You smell like smoke,” she comments.

“Family tradition, apparently,” I laugh. “Dad makes you smoke a cigar when your first child is born.”

“He didn’t do that with me,” Patricia protests, before Marco drags himself upright and, with uncharacteristic perception, taps my sister and Devan on the shoulders. A few moments later, once Patricia has handed Beth back to us, we watch the rest of our family file out of the room. Devan’s the last to leave. She winks at us, and pulls the door shut behind her.

Only then do I let myself lean fully against the bed, until I’m sitting beside Melanie, her body curled against my side. With my free hand, I stroke the top of Beth’s smooth, soft little baby head. So delicate. So fragile.

“I’m scared,” Melanie whispers. “I mean, I’m happy, of course. But… look at her.” She tilts her head back to meet my gaze. “What if we mess up?”

I think of my father downstairs in the courtyard, apologizing for bringing me here to this moment. I lean down to kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her sweet lips, the way they part beneath mine. “If we mess up?” I whisper against her mouth. “Then we’ll just have to try harder again to fix it in the future.” I smile. “But I have a feeling that even if we mess up, she’s going to turn out just fine. After all, she’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

“And yours.” Melanie’s eyes sparkle.

And in that moment, I realize, I finally have everything I could have ever wanted in life.