“Is this where my dad lives?” He wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Yes.” When we were in the elevator, I released his hand and held on to the luggage, my heart beating so fast. I was nervous when I had no reason to be. I was just so excited, so happy to give Deacon the one thing he wanted more than anything.
The doors opened, and we walked down the hallway together, the wheels rolling over the rug audibly. When we made it to his door, I took a deep breath. “Here we are.” I knocked.
“It’s open.”
I left the luggage in the hallway and turned to Derek. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
He nodded.
I stepped inside the penthouse and kept the door cracked.
Deacon rose from the dining table, wearing his sweatpants and a black shirt. He walked toward me, his eyes roaming over my body like he was searching for injuries. He came closer to me then stopped, confusion and relief on his face.
“I got you something for your birthday. But I wanted to give it to you now.”
He stood there, silent. His arms hung by his sides, and he stared at me with that intense expression, like he wanted to say a million things but couldn’t put them into words.
I turned back to the door and opened it wider. “Derek, come in and say hello to your father.”
Derek walked inside and looked up at his father, his eyes widening as a boyish grin stretched across his lips. “Dad!” He sprinted to him, his face lit up brighter than all the Manhattan lights through the window.
Deacon reacted instinctively, kneeling down to the floor to catch him. He shifted backward slightly at impact, but his arms wrapped around Derek tightly, catching him, gripping him. His expression wasn’t detached and intense anymore. Now, his reaction was uncontrollable, the shock etched into his features. He hugged his son, breathing hard, confused. “Derek?” He gripped him by the arms and pulled his son away slightly, so he could stare into his face, look at his son’s features, take a second to understand it was really Derek in his arms.
“Dad, it’s me.” He chuckled as he looked into his father’s face.
Within a single blink, Deacon’s eyes were wet, the emotion exploding without warning, a dormant volcano coming to life. He breathed hard, his face tinted red, the vein in his forehead protruding. Then his eyes watered more, the tears impossible to combat.
This was exactly what I wanted.
He stared at his son like he didn’t know what to say, how to convey everything he felt. His hands cupped Derek’s face before he placed his forehead against his son’s. “My boy.” He let the tears come down his cheeks freely, unafraid to cry in front of his son. “I missed you so much…” He pulled him tight against his chest, cupping the back of his head, his eyes closed as he squeezed.
Derek kept his arms around his neck, his chin resting on his shoulder. “I missed you too, Dad…”
Tears continued to pour down his cheeks. “I love you, son. I love you so much…”
“I love you too.”
The sight made my tears well up. I’d been working toward this for months, and the outcome was worth all the stress and effort. It was worth the fourteen-hour day I’d just had. I’d missed a lot of work to make this trip, but that didn’t matter. Not when I got to witness this.
Now that my job was done, it was time for me to go. I quietly left the residence and placed Derek’s luggage by the door. Then I gently shut the door, letting Deacon have his privacy to have this moment with his son.
I turned to walk away.
The door flew open again.
I turned back around, seeing Deacon standing there with wet cheeks, glistening eyes, and that intense gaze he gave me every single time he looked at me. I could feel the chaotic energy around him, all the emotion, all the stress. He was a wreck, stretched so thin.
He came nearer to me, stopping until we were close together, almost as close as we were when we danced together. He held up his hands, breathing hard like he was struggling to find the words, wanted to convey everything he felt inside his chest but just couldn’t do it. It was too hard, too complicated.
My eyes became wetter just watching him.
He pressed his palms against his face and dragged his fingers down his cheeks, wiping away the shine that coated his skin. Then he pressed his palms together against his lips, sighing loudly because there was too much to get out, too much to explain. Then he reached out his hands again. “Thank you…” His nostrils flared as he breathed, like that wasn’t enough to show his gratitude, but he didn’t know what else to say.