“Sure, what do you want to listen to?” I asked, pausing my task of cutting the onions and peppers. I moved the tap, washing my hands and drying them on the towel that I had slung over my shoulder.
“Can we listen to one of his songs?” he questioned hopefully; his cheeks tinged with pink. It saddened me that he felt embarrassed about his desire to know more about his father—and that I was to blame for that.
“You have a few of his songs on your iPod already,” I said, and before the last word was even out of my mouth, Asher was racing to the back door to grab his iPod from his jacket pocket.
I took the device from him and scrolled through the playlists, finding the one I’d labeled C.J. This is the album that contained songs Calum had recorded, songs he’d written for me or because of me. Just his voice, his acoustic, and yet…it had been the most romantic gift he’d given me.
I hesitated for only a moment. My fingers absently brushed the back, whereHR+CJwas engraved before I hit play.
“Thisis him?” Asher’s jaw went slack, his eyes widening. He recognized the songs and the voice. I’d played this playlist over and over again when he was a baby because it was the only thing that would soothe him.
Even though it wrenched me, I endured hearing these songs over and over again for him.
I nodded, clearing my throat. “Yes, this is just him playing and singing songs that he wrote himself. His band stuff is a little different.”
“Can we play that?”
“Sure.” I moved to the living room, grabbing my phone from my purse. I’d missed a few text messages and a call from my mother—who was currently visiting her sister with Dad in Ontario.
Pausing, I opened up the messages. I didn’t recognize the number, but the first text cleared up any would-be confusion.
It’s me, Calum.
I fired out a reply.I’m surprised you remembered.
Three dots appeared, and his response came half a second later.I’ve never forgotten.
“Uh, Mom? Tacos?” Asher prompted, gesturing to the stove pointedly.
“Crap,” I muttered, jogging over to stir the ground beef mixture. Luckily, he had caught it before it had time to burn. I set my phone down, stirring the taco seasoning in. Once it was simmering, I opened the music app and typed in the band’s name.
I plugged it into the speaker and hit play, adjusting the volume so that it was high enough to hear but not loud enough to prevent conversation.
Asher tilted his head, listening to The Forgotten Flounders. Calum’s talent had only grown and flourished over the years, although all of their albums were good.
I would never admit it, but I listened to every song he and his band ever recorded. It was compulsive, and this compulsion was at its peak when I was pregnant with Asher. I must have listened to their debut album,Ashes in the Dark, a thousand times, searching for meaning I couldn’t be sure was even there.
But the years passed, and he never came back. Those years had carved a desolate hole in my heart, one that I did my best to pretend wasn’t there.
Aside from that ever-lingering hollowness Calum’s desertion left, I was happy. I had a son that was my entire world. I had my parents, who had never given up on me and did everything they could to help me achieve my goals. I had Ellery and the bookstore, and friendships I’d built around the community.
I was happy, truly.
His presence shouldn’t shake everything up as much as it had; I needed to get a grip on myself, on the old feelings that never died but needed to, for Asher’s sake. Calum’s return wasn’t and couldn’t be about us.
Calum
For the past hour, I’d been sitting in my rental, parked at the curb in front of my parents’ house, my thoughts churning. Finding out I had a kid today had side slammed the shit out of me.
I had a son, an almost-eight-year-old son.
I hadn’t just left Harper. I’d left a child behind. I hadn’t just fucked up. I’dfucked up. I’d missed years of it all, years I could never get back, years I hadn’t known how desperately I wanted until I realized he was mine…
Ours.
He looked like me, but I saw traces of her in him, too—the freckles across the bridge of his nose, his mannerisms. I’d known the moment I looked down and saw him.
I stopped short of punching the steering wheel, opting instead to push my hair back with all of the aggravation I felt inside.
