“Snuggle time with my adorable nephew? You got it, brother.”
“Thanks, sister.”
She grins. When we were little, I insisted on calling her ‘sister’ instead of Reagan. When she was old enough to talk, she called me ‘brother.’ Over the years, it’s just kind of stuck. It’s our thing, I guess.
I carry my little man into the house and unstrap him from his seat. Holding him close, I breathe in his baby scent. In just a few short days, I’ve become addicted to it. Addicted to my son.
I have a son.
That knowledge still rocks me to the core. Melissa and her surprise is not something I would have expected. Losing her after her waking up? Well, my world was rocked once again in just a few short days. I’m pissed. How can someone who had their life’s dream in their grasp, someone who lived through so many hardships and obstacles, be taken from this world just when she’s getting what she’s always dreamed of?
I’m angry, and if I’m being honest, scared out of my fucking mind. Everything he needs falls on me. Those are big shoes to fill.
“All right, little man. I’m going to go run a few errands, but Aunt Reagan is going to keep you company. You’re in charge,” I tell him.
“Hey!” Reagan says. Her hands rest on her hips as she tries to glare at me, but I can see the amusement in her eyes. “Give me my nephew and be gone. We have cartoons to watch.”
I kiss my son on the forehead and hand him over to my sister, doing the same to her once he’s settled in her arms. “Thank you. I’ll hurry.”
“Don’t. I have nothing to do today. I go back to work on Monday.”
“Thank you, Reagan. For everything.”
She smiles and waves me off.
My first stop is the shop. Dad has been here every day keeping things going—this was his business, after all. I pull into a parking spot and look at the building in front of me.
Beckett Construction.
Last year, Dad decided it was time to retire. Mom has always been a stay-at-home mom, and business has been good over the years. Dad worked his ass off to make it a success while investing in their future. Retiring early and being able to financially do the things they’ve always wanted to do is the American dream.
As I stare at the building, I wonder if my son will one day want to work for Beckett Construction. Will he want to continue the legacy my father built? I won’t be that dad who insists that he does. My parents’ let both Reagan and me make our own career choices, and I plan to do the same with my son.
My son.
It’s still so new, like I could wake from the dream at any time. Then I remember the heartache, the pain of losing Melissa, the pain that my son will never know his mother. A few quick pictures from my cell phone are all we’ll have, other than her last name as his first. It seemed fitting—and let’s be honest, Knox is a kickass name for my little man.
Climbing out of the truck, I head inside to find Dad sitting at my desk. His glasses are sitting on the edge of his nose while he reads something on the computer in front of him.
“What’s got you so enthralled?”
“Just looking over some invoices. Everything’s good to start the Robinson remodel on Monday.”
“Good to hear. Thank you, Dad.”
He waves his hand in the air. “You forget, I started this business,” he reminds me.
“No. I also didn’t forget that you retired to spend more time with Mom, yet here you are.”
“Son, filling in for a week or two is no hardship to your mother and me. You have our new grandson at home to take care of. Sure, this was all sprung on us, but if you were married and had been expecting, I would’ve done the same thing, so stop thanking me. Now, how’s my grandson? He had an appointment today, right?”
“He’s growing. Dr. Harris says all is well. He has to go back in a month.”
“Good to hear.”
“Yeah, it’s a relief.”
“You’re not alone in this, son. You need to lean on us.”
I love this man. “Thanks, Dad. I know that, I just feel like I need to start doing it on my own. I mean, Mom and Reagan have been there each night and I appreciate it, but I have to do this. You know what I mean?”
He nods. “I do. I respect the hell out of you for that, Ridge, and I’m damn proud to be your father. Just remember that you don’t have to do this on your own. I understand that you need time to settle in and get you and your boy into a routine. I get that. I also understand that it’s okay to ask for help. Hell, your mother and I relied on your grandparents, both of them, when you kids were little. Parents need to have a life too. You need to find the balance, and we’ll be here to help you do that.”
“I know. I just need it to be me and him for a while. It’s been a whirlwind and I just want some time with my son, to let it all sink in.”
“I’ll handle your mother, but Reagan is all yours.” He winks.
“She’s with him now. I mentioned this earlier, so I think she’ll understand.”
“Just remember, any time—day or night—we’ll be there.”
I nod, afraid to speak. Afraid the emotion of the moment will show in my voice. I’m not an overly emotional guy, but anyone who’s seen me this past week would never believe that statement.
“Now, the Robinson job.” Dad thankfully changes the subject. He notices, but doesn’t mention it.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, the remodel.”
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson are leaving to go house-hunting in Florida in two weeks. Their plan is to sell the house here and buy a condo, so it’s less maintenance, and also buy a condo in Florida. I talked to Mr. Robinson this morning, and he assures me that his daughter and son-in-law will be here and can make any necessary decisions.”
“Good. Sounds like it’s all under control. Do you need anything from me? I’ll be back into the swing of things on Monday.”
“Nope. Got it covered, son. I’ll probably hang out next week and get you caught up on anything I might’ve forgotten. Your mother will be in Heaven spoiling that son of yours.” He grins.
He acts like Mom is the one who will be doing all the spoiling. I’ll let him pretend, but we both know the truth. Instead, I just smile back at him and nod in agreement.
After answering a few e-mails, I say good-bye to my dad and head to the store. Mom and Reagan have been cooking and bringing meals, but I still want to stock up on some easy foods. I also want to check out the baby section. My parents’ and friends, along with Reagan, picked out everything for Knox’s room, and I just want to shop for my son, for once. I have no clue what he needs or what I should even buy, but I just feel this need to get him something. I know clothes are always a good thing, but I don’t know what size.
Me: Hey, I’m at the store. What size clothes does he wear?
Pathetic, I know. I have to text my sister to find out what size clothes to buy my son. Newborn, I assume? I don’t want to be that dad; I want to know how to take care of my son on my own. I still have a hell of a lot to learn though.
Reagan: 0–3 months right now. They’re a little big, but he’s going to grow. Don’t get newborn.
Well, shit. Good thing I asked her.
Me: Thanks.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grab a cart and head toward the hygiene products. I grab body wash, deodorant, razors, shaving cream, and shampoo. From there, I head to the baby section. I can honestly say this is an all-time first for me. Pulling my phone back out of my pocket, I pull up my photo gallery, having snapped a picture of his diapers and formula before leaving today. I grab three packs of diapers, since the little guy seems to go through them like crazy. I also grab a box of wipes, because I don’t want that shit on me—literally. Next stop is the formula. I add three cans to my cart and skim over all the other items. Baby food, cereal, teething biscuits. I’m overwhelmed, but I assume he’s not old enough for this stuff or Mom and Reagan would’ve already had a supply ready to go. The next aisle over is toys and pacifi
ers. My little guy loves his, and it’s been a lifesaver at times when I couldn’t get his bottle ready fast enough. I throw another pack in the cart; it’s the same as he has now, so I should be good to go. On second thought, I grab the package and read the back. Newborn. Perfect. I toss it back into the cart and wheel a little further down the aisle to the toys.