Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

I never asked my mom why she chose my name. I always felt that I lucked out with it. It suits me well. "You had a best friend named Falon?"

"Many, many years ago, before I met your dad. She was my very best friend."

"What was she like?"

Her eyes drift off towards the windows. "She was like you. Strong, very smart, her heart was as kind as your heart is."

"Does she live in Brooklyn? Can I meet her one day?"

She checks her watch. "She died. Cancer came to get her."

"I'm sorry, Mom," I say softly. "I had no idea."

"I keep her here now." She pats her chest. "I never told her I loved her, you know. I should have."

"I'm sure she knew," I offer. "People know. They can feel it."

"I love you, Falon. I couldn’t be more proud of you and every minute of every day I cherish you." She reaches for me and I don't hesitate as I hug her tighter than I ever have before.

CHAPTER 46

Asher

I walk down Ninth Avenue, crossing against the light. A taxi is turning but he stops to pick up a fare. I smile and wave at him. I swear he shoots me the finger. It's a royal fuck you, Asher Foster, for crossing against the light. I don't give a shit.

I look down at my phone. It's almost midnight. I have three minutes to spare and I don't see her standing where she said she'd be. She wanted me to meet her at the corner. She found a new place for pizza she said on the phone, after she told me that she'd taken the subway back to Brooklyn, with her mom.

I stop when I reach the spot where we're supposed to meet. I turn around and that's when I see her. She's behind me, her long legs moving quickly as she jumps over a puddle that’s a small reminder of the thunderstorm that enveloped the city an hour ago.

The first clash of thunder punctuated what Caleb was telling Gabriel and me. One summer when we were vacationing in the Hamptons, the man who lived next door approached him. He spoke to Caleb as if he knew that our mom had slept with him years before.

Derek Handler, the neighbor who would share beers with my dad, and would borrow our boat, told my brother, when he was a teenager, that he was his son. Caleb didn't believe it. He confronted my mom with my dad by her side.

What followed was a DNA test, then another for Gabriel and me, woven into a lie that it was part of the medical testing required before we took a trip with our mom to Africa for a safari. The trip never materialized because my parents split. Their marriage ended one day after we came back from the Hamptons.

Derek called Caleb his son in front of my dad. That was the end. It was the last straw.

"You beat me here." Falon laughs as she tries to run her hands through her hair. "The humidity does this to me."

"I should thank the humidity." I lean forward to kiss her. It's soft, gentle, a whisper of what's to come later when I take her back to my place, to my bed.

"You're so romantic."

"That's because of you."

She covers her cheeks as she blushes. "I'm hungry, are you?"

"Why are we wasting our time in Manhattan?" I grab her hand and wait for her to lead the way. "You know the best pizza is in Brooklyn."

"My mom told me earlier that her and her best friend from high school used to go to this place around the corner." She tugs on my hand. "She said to get the pepperoni. No other toppings at all. Just the pepperoni."

"Pepperoni is my favorite. Your mom is a smart woman."

"My mom is the best." She stops and turns to look at me. "It's okay now? You're good?"

I explained things briefly on the phone when I called her. I told her that Caleb was the person Caterina was talking about on the voicemail. She drew me into her lie, by sending her mother to my concert in California months ago. It planted the first seeds of doubt. Caterina let the press nurture them with their stories about my paternity and questions about whether I was really a Foster at all.

I would have been even if my DNA test didn't prove conclusively that I am Roman and Gianna's son, as must as Gabriel is.