The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(80)

He came out buttoning up some jeans, and apparently he needed jeans for this conversation, but not a shirt, which worked for me.

He came right to me, put a hand on the countertop on each side of my hips and his face in mine.

“Okay, hit me,” he invited.

“It’s Christmas and Perry hasn’t called. He hasn’t done anything at all to keep up with Brooklyn, and I don’t just mean child support. So I think I should find time to call him, remind him it’s Christmas, tell him his son is fine, remind him about his monthly visits and his support obligations, a soft lob that, if he continues to ignore his son, later will help me clobber him with suing for support.”

I lifted my hands and put them on either side of Toby’s neck.

“It’s the right thing for Brooklyn,” I told him. “I should try. For my son. But more, he’s Perry’s son too and it’s just simply not fair I’m shouldering this all on my own, leaning on you, on Iz and Johnny, on friends.”

“It isn’t—”

I squeezed his neck. “No, Tobe, I’m good with it. I know no one minds. But it’s not right. He’s supposed to send six hundred and twenty-five bucks a month. For me and Brooks to live at Izzy’s, with food, half-week daycare, and nothing else, it’s over two thousand. He’s going to grow, need clothes, books at school, eat more food, play Pop Warner, I don’t know. It’s just going to get harder, and I’m not the only one who made him.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed.

“I don’t know if he’ll ever pay. I don’t know if he’ll ever start seeing his son regularly. I just know I have to try. That job at the firm, if Perry paid, we wouldn’t be rolling in it, but I could take care of my son. Even set something aside so if we hit anything ugly, we’d have a cushion. But it isn’t just that. I have to try to get my son’s father in his life, and if he doesn’t father up, okay. That’s on Perry. But if he does, and Perry gets his shit together, at least for his boy, then Brooks will have his dad.”

Toby’s face was carefully blank, even if his voice was warm and encouraging, when he said, “Whatever you need from me, you got it.”

But I was stuck on his blank face.

“Do you not think it’s the right thing to do?” I asked.

“I think you’re his mom and you’re the only one who knows what’s right for your son.”

“And I think you’ve been more of a father to him than Perry even before we got together, so I’m honestly asking your opinion.”

“That’s right,” he replied.

“Trying to get Perry to see his son and pay support?”

“No. That I’ve been more of a father to him than that asshole has ever been.”

It was me who went silent at that.

“Addie,” he pushed off his hands but didn’t move away, though he did slide my hair off my shoulder then run a finger down my jaw, “bottom line is, you’re his mom. You have to do what you think is right. I don’t think it’s bad to call him at Christmas and remind him he has a kid. Just check in. Let him know Brooks is doin’ good. Then maybe think on the rest and call him again after the holiday if he doesn’t pick up or call back.”

“I’m not . . . I’m not . . .” I stared up at his face and forced myself to push it all out. “I’m not sure that’s the bottom line.”

“What’s the bottom line?”

Blue bears and teepees and Toby pushing down that thing on the stroller with his boot because he’d done that before.

Repeatedly.

“What are we doing here?” I whispered.

His head jerked. “Getting ready to go to dinner.”

“No. What if Perry never comes back?”

“It’ll suck for Brooks, and we’ll have to handle that so he doesn’t have issues like me with my mom. We’ll have to do somethin’ like what Daphne did with you and Izzy because it doesn’t seem you got issues around your dad. Keep him happy, loved and whole.”

We’ll have to handle that . . .

We’ll have to do somethin’ . . .

We’ll . . .

Keep him happy, loved and whole.

I took in a mammoth breath.

Then I asked, “If you and I go all the way, and Perry stays absent, would you consider adopting him?”

His brows shot together. “When we go all the way, and if that fuckwad keeps bein’ a fuckwad, I’m going to adopt him.”

Oh my God.

Holy shit.

Oh my God.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Addie?”

I had a hand up to him like I was fending him off, one at my throat, which hurt like fuck, and I was fighting for breath.

Both his hands were cupping my jaw and his face was in mine when he demanded, “Adeline, what the fuck?”

“You love him,” I wheezed.

His brows shot together again, not looking perplexed, looking ticked.

“Yeah, I love him. Jesus, Addie, I bought a fuckin’ crib and changing table for him. I was thinkin’ of makin’ that into a poker room. Can’t do that if I only got one extra bedroom and a kid who needs his sleep.”

Oh my God.

Holy shit.

Oh my God.