I reach for the coffee, gone cold by the side of the bed. As I do, my gaze lands on the picture on the front page of one of the papers the nurse left me, and everything stops.
Smiling out from the front cover are Paige and Noah.
She’s kneeling by a green shed with Noah as he pours water into a flower pot. He’s got a huge grin on his face, and she’s looking down at him, smiling. He stares up at her with big round eyes.
My son.
I pause with the pills in one hand and the coffee in the other.
I’ve caused her pain, but the love she has for the little boy is obvious. What did she say?He’s the best thing that’s happened in my life.
Her smile burns through the fog like sunlight through murky water. She’s lit up, he’s laughing, and suddenly, I want to be too.
For three years, I’ve longed to run into “Rose” again. Now I have, and it’s far from how I imagined it. I’m not the man Paige needs, but it’s no longer about me.
I stare at the pills in my hand and launch them across the room. They bounce off the cupboards and skitter across the floor, and more than one rolls under the refrigerator.
The weight on my chest lifts as I suck in a long, deep breath. My head feels foggy, but one thought keeps reverberating around my brain.
I have a son.
17
PAIGE
Noah cries all the way home, and even the hum of the car doesn’t settle him. We pull up into my driveway outside the two-bedroom home my mom left me. What I wouldn’t give to have her here right now. Navigating pregnancy on my own was hard enough, but the emotional turmoil after seeing Ryan again might break me.
As I pull in, I see Rowena Evans hunched over her mailbox a few doors down. She straightens up when she hears Noah’s cries and frowns in our direction.
I give her a big smile and a wave before unbuckling Noah from his car seat. But she just shakes her head at me, no doubt tutting that my toddler has the indecency to not know how to control his emotions yet.
“Old biddy,” I mutter as I carry Noah up the drive.
My lawnmower is by the side of the house. I didn’t have time to put it away after a job this morning, and it’s lying on its side. It hasn’t been windy, and I have no idea what could’ve knocked over something so heavy.
I carry Noah over, ignoring his cries, and crouch by the lawnmower. Between the blades are a handful of chunky stones and a thick stick. Deliberately placed.
A chill creeps through my veins and freezes my limbs. Who would do such a thing?
I glance up the road, and Rowena is retreating up her driveway. Could she have done this?
Noah lets out a long wail, drawing my attention back to him.
“Let’s get you sorted, buddy.”
I straighten up and kiss his scrunched up forehead while jiggling him on my hip.
He must be picking up on my uneasiness, so I take deep breaths as I walk him around the yard, trying not to think about someone sabotaging my lawnmower.
“Here’s the dwarf maple that Nanna planted when I was a little girl about your age. Look how the leaves are turning red. They’ll all fall off soon.”
I pick a russet-colored leaf and hold it out for him. He takes it in his chubby hand, and the wails turn to sniffs.
I pick another leaf and brush it over his face. He closes his eyes, and the sniffs soon turn to giggles.
Mom planted the front yard with dwarf varieties that provide color all year round. It was helping her plant the garden that fostered my love of horticulture.
Her presence is strong in the garden she loved, and I talk to Noah softly as we tour the yard, pointing out the changes in the plants. By the time we’ve done a circuit, we’re both calmer.
