A tall, handsome man approaches her from behind, resting a hand on her shoulder. I realize now is that time for awkward introductions. And I have to admit, I’ve sort of been dreading this one.
“Julian, this is my boyfriend, Mark.”
I stand up with Étienne on my hip. “Enchanté,” I say.
“Nice to meet you too,” he replies with a thick American accent.
I feel the eyes of my two counterparts at the table watching us. Clearing my throat, I turn toward them.
“Élodie, this is Freya and Archer.” They exchange greetingsand handshakes. The boy on my hip giggles. “And this is Étienne,” I say.
I feel them watching, their curiosity so apparent it burns. I can practically see the questions swirling around in their minds.
“Well, we better get going,” Élodie says. “On y va, Étienne,” she adds, trying to take her son from my arms.
He doesn’t want to leave, clutching to my neck, and I’m assaulted by guilt that I haven’t seen him more.
“Perhaps one day soon, we can go to the park together again,” I offer.
“He would love that,” she says softly with a smile.
“Allez, Étienne. Il est temps d’y aller.”
The boy looks into my eyes with softness. “Je peux venir voir Onyx bientôt?” he asks.
I chuckle. “Of course you can come see Onyx soon.”
“Salut, Juju,” he replies, hopping down from my arms and taking his mother’s hand. We wave at the three of them as they leave.
My spine is straight as a rod as I sit back in my seat, discomfort flooding my veins. I reach for the glass of water on the table, guzzling half of it down while Archer and Freya stare at me.
Setting down my glass, I acknowledge them. “I realize how this looks.”
“Julian, is that your?—”
“No,” I cut Freya off from the rest of the question. “He’s not mine. Not really.”
She lets out a sigh of relief.
Archer leans forward, his arms on the table. “Are you sure? Because it sort of seemed?—”
“I know how it seems,” I say. “But he’s not mine. I’ve just been helping her.”
“Helping her?” Freya asks. “Is she your ex or something?”
“No. She’s a dancer at Legacy. She’s been raising him alone, and she just needed some help, so I stepped in.”
“Why?” Freya asks.
I look at her as if that’s the wildest question I’ve ever heard.
“Why? Because I can. Because I want to. When Étienne was born, she had nothing. Her parents abandoned her. And I don’t know why it sparked something inside me. I haveeverything, and they havenothing. She needed help…so I helped her.”
I give a shrug, casually trying to play it off. Meanwhile, tears are welling in Freya’s eyes.
“It started with paying her extra for her rent. Then I’d buy him clothes. He would sometimes come stay with me if she had to work late. He loves Onyx. But that’s all. We’re just friends.”
Freya’s lips press together tightly as she fights a smile. “Julian Kade,” she says accusingly, with humor lacing her tone.
