Page 13 of The Tempo of Truth (The Monsters Duet #3)
Ky
The small, outdated diner was empty except for the staff; several people dressed in black and wearing sunglasses indoors; and the table I was seated at with a lively little boy and a woman whose face was plastered across every media outlet known to humankind.
It was an odd sensation to be back in a place that had felt safe when I was growing up but now seemed alien and unworthy of two people responsible for the only sounds in the diner, other than the tinkling of silverware from the open kitchen and the squeak of sensible shoes on the linoleum floor.
Winnie kept up a constant flow of conversation with the chattering little boy next to her while I watched them with wide eyes and at a loss for words.
There was no need for a paternity test. Just like Winnie told me.
The little guy’s face was a carbon copy of my own.
His tiny nose was straighter than mine since I’d broken it more than once.
His dark eyes were a kinder, gentler version of the ones I looked at in the mirror every day.
His eyebrows were expressive and active when he talked, and only missing the scar to match mine exactly.
I noticed he could lift the left one independently of the right one, a quirk my mother always thought was adorable when I was a kid.
He was loud and curious. He laughed happily with Winnie and was easily distracted by her phone, a handful of crayons, and a sheet of paper that had seen better days.
If he wasn’t sitting next to one of the wealthiest women in the world, and if this meet-up hadn’t required Secret Service levels of security, I would’ve simply taken Lowe as any other five-year-old who was out to lunch with his parents.
I tapped on the side of the glass of water sitting in front of me with the band of a ring I wore on my thumb.
The condensation made my fingers wet and left a trail on the glass.
The last time I’d been this nervous or uncomfortable, I was getting kicked off my first professional team.
I would never forget the icy fingers of anxiety that clawed at my throat back then.
That grip was less sharp right now, but I still struggled to breathe and swallow normally.
Winnie did her best to break the ice and set Lowe at ease.
She introduced me as a friend of hers, told the little boy that I also loved football, and encouraged us to discuss our favorite players.
Lowe rambled for fifteen minutes about Real Madrid while I nodded along silently.
I did manage to compliment him on calling it football instead of soccer, but I quickly remembered that Winnie had raised him abroad until now.
The kid was more familiar with the different Premier Leagues across Europe and elsewhere than I was.
I felt my heart squeeze painfully in my chest when he proudly proclaimed that he wanted to be a football player like his father when he grew up.
I looked at Winnie, unsure what to say. She simply shrugged and muttered, “When he was old enough to start asking questions, I didn’t want to lie to him.
He knows his father was someone I was fond of when I was younger.
He knows that we lived in different places because of work and school.
When he started showing interest in sports, I let him know his father played soccer.
He asks about his dad more now that we’re in the city because he sees his cousins with both parents and wonders why his family is different.
I’ve assured him that a family with just the two of us is perfectly normal.
We don’t need another person. But if the right time and right person come along, we can figure out how to make room for them. ”
“Not a soccer player, Mommy. He played football.” The little voice reprimanded in a way that indicated it was a common correction. “I play football too.”
Winnie put her hand on top of the soft, dark hair and ruffled it playfully.
She gave me a look that silently asked if I was going to say anything or continue to sit as still and silent as a statue.
I cleared my throat to shake loose the spikes of nervousness poking into my throat and lungs.
“What position do you like to play?” Lowe was wearing another miniature jersey.
This one had the name of a popular player from Spain across the back.
“Goalie.”
I nodded my head. “That’s an important position. There’s a lot of responsibility that comes with guarding the net.”
The little head bobbed seriously in agreement. “I’ll be even better when I get taller. Right, Mommy?”
Winnie hummed and continued to stroke the dark hair under her fingertips.
The motion looked soothing and comforting.
I tried to remember the last time anyone touched me with such reverence.
I didn’t enjoy that the heated, sloppy night I spent with her when I was at my worst was the first thing that came to mind.
Winnie always seemed so timid, like she was ready to jump out of her cultured skin at the slightest provocation.
It was unnerving that I realized years too late that she never seemed to be scared of me.
I was covered in thorns and ready to poison anyone who got close enough to get accidentally pricked.
Winnie was the only person who ever handled me unafraid of drawing blood.
“You’ll get better the more you practice.
If you want to be great at something, you have to work hard.
That way, it doesn’t matter if you’re short or tall.
You can still be the best at the things you love doing.
” Winnie’s response to the little boy was level and ridiculously practical.
She sounded like a mother. She was more mature and settled than she’d ever been before.
This woman sitting across from me in the shabby diner was not the same unhinged girl who followed me around like a lovesick fool and loved me despite knowing we could never be together.
This Winnie would never stumble into a drunken hookup with a fuckup like me. I was sure of it.
“Are you going to play football at your new school?” I was racking my brain to keep the conversation going while I sweated over messing up my first impression on my kid.
I blinked and swallowed a swear word. When did I start thinking of the little boy as mine?
Wasn’t it too soon and too frightening to feel a sense of possession after barely twenty minutes of knowing the boy?
I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach and realized I was in over my head with this situation.
I sat back in the vinyl booth, trying to put some physical distance between me and Lowe while my heart screamed at me to get closer.
“I’m going to play. My cousins are on a team already, but they’re older than me.
Mommy told me I’m going to make new friends, and they’ll play with me once I start school.
” He scrunched up his little nose and gave Winnie a look out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t want to be friends with kids who call it soccer. ”
I couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped my mouth. “That is annoying. You’ll just have to teach them the correct name. It’s what a good friend should do.”
The little head nodded earnestly. “I will. Mommy told me that I have to focus on learning things other than football once school starts. She wants me to be well-rounded.” He let out an exaggerated huff and gave Winnie an adorably disgruntled look. “Whatever that means.”
I met Winnie’s gaze and lifted an eyebrow when I told him, “Nothing wrong with putting most of your energy into what you’re passionate about.
Everybody has to learn the basics, but if you want to be great, you have to give what you love your all.
” The eyes that matched mine glimmered like they found a new loophole to exploit, while Winnie’s expression turned frosty.
I chuckled under my breath and reminded the little guy, “You’ve got a lifetime to decide what you want to be when you grow up.
It’s fun to try out a little bit of everything while you’re young.
You never know where those different skills might come in handy. ”
“Do you want to play football with me?” The youthful voice tempted me to step back on the pitch in a way nothing since my downfall had. “I’ll let you score at least one goal.” He boasted the same way I did when I was a kid.
The grin on my face was so big it made my cheeks hurt. I hadn’t had a reason to smile in longer than I cared to admit. “Don’t ever give away a goal, kid. Not even to your friends and family.”
Lowe took the advice seriously and nodded his head.
A moment later, the food Winnie ordered for him came, and she took the little boy to sit with one of the security guys, who I could feel glaring daggers at me through the dark lenses of his glasses.
The stern expression on his face softened when the little boy sat next to him and dug into his strawberry-covered pancakes with gusto.
Winnie came back to the booth and slid in across from me.
Our feet knocked together under the table.
I hissed through my teeth as she grazed my slightly swollen ankle.
It was a souvenir from my last fight. The mottled skin hidden under my loose track pants was a gnarly shade of purple and blue.
Winnie watched the way I flinched with a frown and asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live.” I shifted my weight and made the plastic under my ass squeak.
“What happens next? What’s your plan after today?
We play house and pretend to be a happy family?
You tell Lowe I’m his father, and I act like I know what that means or how to do anything that resembles being a parent?
” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.