Page 109 of Clear Shot

The paternity results came in yesterday and they were positive, of course. I always knew that would be the case but it felt good to make it official, just in case anyone had any doubt. Johan and the others all swore they believed me but a tiny part of me couldn’t help but wonder if they had even an inkling of doubt.

This ends that concern once and for all and allows me to focus on what’s next.

Starting over in Bratislava.

Preparing for a baby.

Scoping out employment opportunities.

There’s a lot to do, and I’m grateful I have the support of my family.

When they announce the call for first class passengers to board the plane, I’m grateful for my brother, who upgraded my main cabin ticket. He said I would need to rest on such a long flight. I hadn’t wanted to spend the money but my brother has no such qualms. One of many things I love about him.

I look around the airport, sad and frustrated that I have to leave, and just before Christmas. We had so many plans for the holidays. But it’s better this way. Staying through the month of December would just rub salt on an already raw wound.

I grab my carryon bag and walk toward the jetway.

“Hana!” I hear my name and don’t react at first because I assume whoever it is, is looking for someone else. “Hana, wait! Don’t get on the plane—Hana!”

There’s a sense of urgency, and something familiar about the voice, so I turn almost out of habit.

“Hana! Please, wait.” Aiden comes running toward me, his hair sticking up and his face a little red, as if he’s out of breath.

I stare at him, completely flabbergasted that he’s not just at the airport but also at my gate. How did he get past security?

“What… are you doing here?”

“I love you. I’m sorry. About everything. I don’t want you to go back to Slovakia. Please give me a chance to explain.”

“Aw.” An older lady standing a few feet away from me fans herself. “Unless he hit you, you should at least let him say what he wants to say.”

In any other situation, I would laugh.

But this isn’t funny.

This is my life.

“He would never hit me,” I manage to whisper, my eyes never leaving his.

“Babe.” He finally reaches me and comes to an abrupt stop. “I love you. I’m sorry about so many things. Please—you can’t leave. Not like this. Can we talk first? So I can explain. And then, if you still want to go, I’ll buy you another ticket.”

All I can do is stare.

“He sounds really sorry,” another woman stage whispers.

“I’d give him a chance if it were me,” someone else says.

“Hana, I can’t fix things if you get on that plane. Please don’t go. Not today.”

“Today, tomorrow…what difference does it make?” I ask quietly. “If you think I’m capable of?—”

“I don’t!”

“Because of the test.” There’s a sad finality to my voice that breaks my heart all over again.

“No. Because ofme. Because I’m a dumbass. Because I’ve been so worried about my past that I couldn’t see our future.”

Our future?