I assumed that Matson was affected negatively by my blossoming relationship with Ryan, so I pulled back, telling him that I couldn’t see him again until I had Matson on track again. Being in a relationship was new to me, and I strived for balance, trying to be sure Matson wasn’t being left out or neglected.
But no matter what I did, I felt like a crappy mom. I tried to give my son my undivided attention, but pushing a man like Ryan Fisher out of your head proved to be difficult. I daydreamed about him when I should have been working. I fantasized about his naked body when I should have been reading bedtime stories. Ryan burrowed his way into my heart before I even realized it was happening.
And if I was being honest with myself, I think it started long before I’d ever agreed to go on a date with him. I could almost pinpoint the exact moment in the hospital when my facade had started to crack. I lied to myself back then about my interest in Ryan, but I wasn’t lying to myself anymore.
Even Matson noticed my change of heart, saying I had a silly look on my face whenever Ryan called or texted. He would point and giggle and tell me I was in looooove the way only kids could say it, making me feel like I was ten years old and on the playground again. I knew the dopey smile I wore, could feel it spread across my face, but I couldn’t stop it. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t go away. So I accepted the teasing from my kid and reminded him that one day he’d like a girl and would get the same look on his face.
“Gross.” Matson did an exaggerated full-body shudder. “I’ll only ever like you, Mama,” he said, going back to his homework. I laughed.
During those thirteen days, Ryan and I talked on the phone every night, and our relationship grew in ways I hadn’t expected. When you removed the physical aspects and depended solely on oral and written communication, things seemed to happen on a completely different level.
It wasn’t something that I was used to, not that I was used to much of anything in the relationship department, to be honest, but this was different. We compared the last two weeks to what we assumed being in a long-distance relationship must be like, never seeing each other in person and only communicating through devices.
I hated to admit that I enjoyed it, because I really liked looking at Ryan, but there was something special about getting to know each other better in this way. Emotions took over and everything else fell to the wayside, because that was the only place for it to go. We talked about our days, our families, our hopes, our pasts, and he ended each call asking when he could see me again. And I had given him the same answer of I don’t know each time until tonight.
“I was thinking this weekend might work. But Matson would have to be with us,” I said, knowing full well Ryan wouldn’t object. I’d talked to Matson earlier about spending time with Ryan, and he had pumped his fist in the air like he’d won some kind of award.
“Really? This weekend? Thank God, angel. I was about to go insane if you kept me from you any longer.”
“Did you hear me about Matson coming along?” I asked.
“Of course I heard you. I’m excited. That just makes it better.”
Makes it better, huh? “In what way?”
“In the serious you’re going to fall in love with me kind of way.”
He might have said it in a teasing voice, but there was truth hiding there. Ryan never kept his feelings or intentions a secret, least of all from me. He was so committed, so certain, so willing to give this relationship his all, that he erased nearly all my lingering doubts. But some walls refused to crumble to dust overnight.
“So, Saturday afternoon then?” I asked, giving him a formal invitation into my life and Matson’s.
Ryan cleared his throat. “I was thinking Saturday morning.”
Disappointment coursed through me, although I wasn’t exactly sure why. “The morning instead? Okay,” I said, taking whatever I could get. As much as I adored our phone calls and video chats, I missed seeing Ryan in person, and I was excited about him and Matson spending time together, even if I was a little nervous too.
“Not instead. As well. Morning and afternoon, until I have to leave for work. If that’s okay with you, and Matson doesn’t want to kick me in the shins by then.” Ryan laughed, and I smiled as my disappointment was replaced with elation and a willing heart.
“Yes,” I said quickly, and we laughed together, giddy with anticipation.
• • •
Saturday took an eternity to arrive. My mom failed at calming me down, reminding me how good-looking Ryan was, and how sweet and rare guys like him were.
“You’re not helping,” I whined over the phone.
“I know. Sorry. Have fun, mija. You deserve this. Matson does too. Call me after he leaves and tell me everything,” she said, her tone excited before she cleared her throat. “If you want, I mean. You don’t have to.”
“I will, Mom,” I promised. Of course she’d be the first person I’d want to call and share my day with.
The doorbell rang, and I hung up quickly as Matson bounded down the hall.
“I’ll get it!” he shouted, and before I could stop him, he had the door open and was looking up at the man who made my heart skip a beat just from his presence.
Ryan looked gorgeous, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the fabric stretched across his chest and shoulders. The backward baseball cap on his head was perfect. No one else on earth had ever looked as good to me as he did right now.
“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” Ryan crouched down to his eye level, and Matson put his fist out. Ryan bumped his knuckles, and my heart warmed at their exchange.
“I remember. Want to see my toys?” Matson said before pulling Ryan by the hand through the door.
Ryan’s blue eyes met mine from across the room. “Can I say hi to your mom first?” he asked politely before waiting for Matson’s response.
“She’s in the kitchen. I’ll show you where it is.”
I ducked back behind the wall and pretended to wash a dish as Matson led Ryan into the kitchen.
“Mama, Ryan’s here.”
I turned around and smiled, but hesitated. Should I give Ryan a hug?
It was such a simple gesture, but Matson had never seen me be affectionate with anyone other than him or my dad. Before I could react, though, Ryan made the choice for me, pulling me into his arms and hugging me tight. When he let go, Matson stood there staring at us.
Ryan released me and looked at my son. “Hope that was okay with you, buddy. I guess I should have asked.”
Matson shrugged. “Nah, I think she liked it. It’s fine with me.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, pursing my lips to stop the laughter from bubbling out, but Matson didn’t notice.
“Can I show you my room now?”
“Sure.” Ryan gave me a wink and let Matson lead him away. That man was going to be the death of me.
When they disappeared, I finished getting ready, packing a few snacks and drinks in case we were gone longer than expected. The mom in me never left the house unprepared.
“Can we go to the park now?” Matson ran back into the kitchen, and I looked up to see Ryan following close behind him.
“I guess we’re done playing,” he said with a shrug.
Matson turned around to look at Ryan. “We’re not done. I just want to go outside for a little while. Get some fresh air. Mama says fresh air is good for growing boys. Don’t you like fresh air, Ryan? We can play in my room later.”
“I love fresh air, and your mom’s right. We should definitely go to the park. Is it the same one as before?” Ryan asked, and I nodded.
“It’s his favorite.”
“Monkey bars on the beach. What’s not to love?”
“You’re really good with him,” I told Ryan, wanting him to know his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and that I appreciated them.
“He makes it easy. He’s a great kid, Sofia,” Ryan said with a grin, and I melted more inside.
As we walked outside, Matson’s face lit up a
t the sight of Ryan’s car.
“I’ll drive,” Ryan said, and the second I went to protest, Matson jumped in.
“Yes! Your car is awesome, Ryan.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I sit in front?” Matson asked, and Ryan’s gaze immediately met mine.
Shaking my head, I told Matson, “No, you have to sit in the back of this car too. You know the rules.”
Matson’s face fell, and he muttered, “Okay.”
“Are you sure you want to drive?” I asked, and Ryan looked at me like I had grown two heads.
“Why wouldn’t I? Get in the car, woman,” he said, and Matson copied him.
“Yeah, Mama. Get in the car, woman!”
During the drive to the park, Matson kept talking about Ryan’s car, pointing out all the features in the backseat, from the white stitching in the leather seats to the control panel he had only for his seat. Ryan nudged me and I glanced at him, smiling, but my smile faded as I noted his somber expression and the nod of his head.
I looked in my side mirror and noted the truck behind us following a little too closely. The black truck had tinted windows, and even though we couldn’t see the driver clearly, I knew we both jumped to the same conclusion—that it was Derek following us.
“How long?” I asked, knowing Ryan would pick up on my meaning without my having to explain further. The last thing I wanted was to alert Matson that anything could be wrong.
“Since we left your house,” Ryan said in a low voice.
“Since we left?”
He nodded. “Do you know what he drives?”
“I have no idea.”
“What are you guys looking at?” Matson tried to crane his neck, but thankfully he was too little to see over the backseat and out the rear window.
Ryan and I exchanged glances.
“Just a funny guy riding a bike,” I said lightly, completely lying.
Matson laughed, believing me without question. “Was he naked like that other guy?” His head cocked to the side and his blue eyes sparkled as he referred to the afternoon on Venice Beach when we’d seen a guy streaking while the cops chased him.
“Almost,” I lied again.
Matson couldn’t contain his laughter, which made me laugh too.
Before I knew it, the car was filled with uncontrolled giggling, Ryan included. I’d almost forgotten we were being followed until Ryan pulled his car into the paid parking lot and craned his neck to watch the truck continue down the road past us.
“Maybe we’re just being paranoid? I haven’t heard from him since the windshield night.”
“It was him,” Ryan said firmly.
“How do you know?”
His jaw tightened. “I just do.”
I pulled Matson’s backpack filled with beach toys from the trunk and helped him out of Ryan’s car. The three of us walked to the playground before Matson said he wanted to build a sandcastle first.
“Have you ever caught sand crabs?” Ryan asked.
Matson’s face lit up. “No. Do they hurt? Are they big? Can we catch them? Can we, Mama?” He looked at me, and I nodded.
“Come on. I’ll show you how to find them.” Ryan reached for his hand, and they walked toward the water’s edge.
I snapped a couple of pictures on my phone as I followed behind, my heart nearly bursting at the sweet sight.
“Okay, first we wait for the wave to come in,” he said, still holding Matson’s hand. “And as soon as the wave goes out, we look for little holes in the sand.”
“Holes?” Matson squinted up at him.
“Like that. See?” Ryan pointed at the wet sand where a tiny hole appeared. “It’s an air bubble, and it means they’re in there. Hurry. We have to dig before the wave comes back.”
Ryan fell to his knees and thrust both hands into the wet sand. Matson followed suit, having no idea what he was looking for until Ryan laughed.
“I have one!”
Pulling his hands out of the small hole he’d dug, Ryan showed Matson a fistful of wet sand before shaking it away. The tiny gray sand crab appeared and quickly tried to bury itself back into the sand, but found only his hand instead. The crab kept trying to burrow with all its might, but it was no use.
Matson stared at Ryan’s open palm. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it tickles.”
When Ryan put the tiny crab in Matson’s hand, he giggled before quickly dropping it and watching it disappear into the mud.
“I dropped him.”
“It’s okay, there’s more.” Ryan’s eyes met mine, and I smiled at him. He was so natural with my son, it was like he’d always been in our lives.
“Let’s build a castle first,” Matson exclaimed before running away from the water and toward the playground.
I stared at Ryan until he noticed and stopped walking.
“What?” he asked with a smirk.
“It’s just . . .” I shook my head. “You’re so much more than I expected.”
“You are too.” He leaned down and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Ryan, Mama, come on!” Matson shouted as he plopped down in the sand.
I could tell that Ryan was on edge even as he pretended to be calm. Every so often, he’d stop his work on the sandcastle we were building with Matson and scan all around us.
“Shoot,” Matson said as our third attempt collapsed.
“The sand’s too dry. We need more wet sand,” Ryan said with a smile, and my heart warmed at their interaction.
“I’ll get it!” Matson jumped up, bucket in hand, and ran toward the water.
I watched him closely, unwilling to tear my gaze from him until he was back with us, carrying the bucket with both hands.
Ryan peeked inside. “That looks perfect.”
“It’s so heavy,” Matson said before dropping it to the sand with a thud.
As we poured, shaped, and patted the walls, I marveled that this was my life. I never realized how alone I’d been until Ryan showed up. I’d convinced myself that Matson and I were perfectly fine, didn’t need anyone, and now I sat in the sand questioning every lie I’d told myself.
Ryan jumped up and wiped his hands on his jeans, spraying sand everywhere. When I shot him a questioning look, he nodded toward the street. Derek was standing across the street, leaning against the very truck that had been following us earlier.
So it had been him.
“Hey, bud, why don’t you go play on the playground while your mom and I go talk to someone real quick.”
Matson stopped digging and looked up at Ryan. “What about the castle?”
“We’ll finish it after.”
Matson seemed to consider Ryan’s offer, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “What if someone knocks it down?”
“Then we’ll build a new one. A better one.” Ryan smiled and extended his hand. Matson reached for it, and Ryan helped him up. “Your mom and I will be right over there.” He pointed toward the street.
“Don’t leave the playground, Matson. And make sure that I can see you at all times. If you can’t see me . . .” I paused, waiting for him to finish our safety motto.
“Then I can’t see you. I know, Mama.” He ran over to the monkey bars and started climbing.
As Ryan and I turned toward Derek, I thought he might get in his truck and leave. Maybe he only wanted us to see him watching, I hoped.
But he did the exact opposite. Derek stalked across the street toward us, walking through oncoming traffic without even looking. Horns honked, brakes squealed, but he didn’t stop.
I wanted to get closer to Derek before he reached us, needing to keep space between him and Matson, but Derek’s pace was quicker than ours, his steps hurried. He reached us first.
“Isn’t this cute? You two playing house now? With my son.” He looked right at Matson, who was fortunately not paying attention.
“What do you want, Derek?” I demanded, and Ryan pulled me to his side, his grip tight on my waist as
he asked Derek, “Why are you here?”
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Ryan? If anyone doesn’t belong in this picture, it’s you.”
My eyes flew open wide. “No, Derek. You don’t belong here.”
“I’m his dad. Of course I belong here.”
“Then where have you been the last eight years?” I fired back, stepping away from Ryan’s protective hold and into Derek’s personal space. “You might be his biological father, but you’re not his dad.”
“You think I’m going to let this kind of person raise my son? A fucking bartender?” He spat out the last word like it was laced with poison.
“I actually own the bar,” Ryan said calmly, sounding almost bored, and his reluctance to engage pushed Derek’s buttons more.
“You think I don’t know that?” Derek rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t know every single thing about your brothers and their girlfriends?”
I gasped, wishing it had been internal instead of out loud. Derek always enjoyed getting a reaction out of me.
“Your family business is a bar,” Derek said with a snarl. “It’s a trashy, piece-of-shit occupation that no sane person would stay in for any length of time.”
“As opposed to your family business? In what universe does defending the guiltiest scumbags of the world, who only get off because they have more money than God, make you a better person than me?”
Derek laughed. “In every universe. Especially this one. Ask anyone which job they think is the more respectable one—lawyer or bartender. Lawyer wins ten times out of ten, and you know it. People look up to me. They look down on you.”
Ryan shook his head. “I bring joy to people’s lives, Derek. You bring pain. I help people, but you hurt them. I go to sleep with a clear conscience. I can’t imagine you doing the same.”
“Matson’s not yours!” Derek yelled, his tone and demeanor shifting quicker than the weather.
“Lower your voice!” I pleaded.
“Why?” Derek’s lip curled and he turned to yell toward the playground. “Hey, Matson! Do you know who I am, son?”
Matson’s head turned toward us, his eyes wide and confused.
Ryan stepped closer to Derek. “Don’t call him son.”