Earlier, when she was crying, it fucking killed me not to pull her into me and let her rest her head on my chest.
But I can’t let myself get close now. She might just keep asking me questions. Keep pushing about Gus and that DNA test.
And I already decided this morning, before coming here, that I had to be done with this.
Jules deserves more than a man like me. More than someone who can’t bring himself to face the truth of a paternity test. A stronger person would be able to look at thenegativeresultwithout flinching. But I know, deep down, that I’m just not that person.
“Russell?”
It’s Gus who sees me loitering in the doorway first. I scan him over quickly, looking for any sign, the surgery might not be taking. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes a crash can occur even after the recovery room, even when we think the patient is in the clear.
As a pediatric cardio-surg patient, Gus will likely be in this hospital room for several days, until the staff can be sure he’s doing well.
Now, he looks pale and slightly weak, not his energetic self, but it’s surprising that he’s awake and out of the anesthesia, awake enough to talk.
Even though his chest was split open just an hour ago, Gus gives me the winning smile that’s been winning people over online. Of course, he’s already won me over.
“Hey, little man,” I say, stepping into the room and keeping my eyes off Jules. I can’t look at her right now—if she’s crying again, it’s going to fuck over all my carefully laid intentions to leave her alone. “How you feeling?”
“Tired,” Gus says, letting his head loll to the side, and I can’t help it—I chuckle. He’s way too charming for his own good. Then, before I can say anything else, Gus says, “But I’m still doing my Christmas play. Mommy says I’ll be good enough to, since it’s so many sleeps away.”
“That’s great,” I say, stomach flipping at where this might be going.
And sure enough, Gus asks, “Are you coming to my play, Russell?”
I bite my tongue, and this time, I’m unable to keep myself from glancing over at Jules. She sits up straight in her chair,staring at Gus. Her eyes are damp, and I force myself to look away.
“I, uh—” I scrub my hand over the back of my head, feeling, again, like a major ass. But I can’t do it, not to myself, and not to Jules. The best thing to do is let this go, letthemgo. “Not this time, buddy. But?—”
Before I can change the subject, wish him well and get the hell out of there, Gus looks up at me with blue eyes so pale they’re practically gray. Wide and confused, he asks, “If you were my dad, would you come to the play?”
The air is knocked out of me. I stand by his bed and stare down at him, mouth open without a word to say.
Without warning, images flash back to my mind—the test results. The look on Margot’s face when she realized I could never get her pregnant. The way she’d looked at me, and how she’d eventually tried to let me down easy, though all it did was make me feel defective.
Could I recover from Jules’ looking at me like that?
She needs me to take the DNA test, desperately wants to put a name and a face to Gus’s father. Or maybe she thinks the only way our relationship would ever actually work is if we were tired together with a biological offspring.
And what if I take the DNA test, survive the negative result, and his fatherdoesshow up? What if Jules wants a perfect little family, and I’m no longer part of that equation?
For a moment, there’s nothing but the gentle beeping of Gus’s heart monitor, nothing but soft breathing and the rustle of bare branches outside the window.
I can feel the weight of Jules’ stare on me, the tension in the room stretching, stretching—too taut. It’s too much.
“I hope you feel better soon, buddy,” I say, instead of answering his question. From behind my back, I reveal thestuffed dinosaur I got for himweeksago—planning to give it to him after his surgery.
“Thanks,” he says, and before he can ask me another brain-ending question, I turn and force myself to leave the room, feeling Jules’ gaze on me the entire time.
Chapter 32
Jules
Itell Gus I have to go to the bathroom, cross the hospital room, and stand in front of the sink with my face in my hands, crying hard into my palms. With the door shut, and the sound muffled into my skin, I can only hope Gus doesn’t hear me.
All Gus wants for Christmas is a dad.
And Russell wants nothing to do with us.
