Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Say it.”
“I’m so sorry, Tyler.”
“I have to hear you say it, Ana.”
“Please don’t be upset—”
“Say it.”
Her eyes panned up to mine, and I watched wall after wall be thrown up. I heard my tone of voice. I knew it sounded familiar. It was the tone of the angry eighteen-year-old boy who’d had nothing to be angry about that day.
“He’s your son, Tyler. Brody is your son.”
Her words hit me like a cannonball, and I felt a pain unlike anything I had ever experienced. My suspicions had been correct. I had known they had been. But that still hadn’t prepared me for hearing it from Ana’s mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“I didn’t want to hold you back, Tyler.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ana?”
“I didn’t want you to miss out on Harvard because you had knocked up your high school sweetheart.”
“Why did you keep my son from me!?”
Ana jumped in her seat as people poked their heads out of the kitchen.
So that was why she had sat us back here.
“Because when you looked into my eyes and told me you were happy about going across the country to get away from me, I had known I’d made the right decision.”
“What?” I asked breathlessly.
“The last thing I ever wanted to do was hold you back, especially when I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. When I found out I was pregnant that morning—”
“So you knew.”
“What?” she asked.
“You knew when you came to visit me that day that you were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“No.”
“Why would you do that to me, Ana? Why would you take that decision away from me?”
“Because you were going off to Harvard to make something of yourself. Because you had just told me you were glad to get away from me. Because the last thing I wanted you to do was stay in Los Angeles and go to some mediocre law school here because of a child we got pregnant with.”
“That doesn’t excuse not telling me, Ana! That’s my son. You were carrying my child, half of me. I had a right to make that decision for myself!”
“I’m sorry, Tyler.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry that I missed out on the first eight years of my son’s life? You’re sorry that I missed his birth? You’re sorry that I missed out on a chance to have a family with the girl I loved? The woman I still love!?”
I felt my anger growing. I saw her tears, but I couldn't stop. All the hurt, all the pain, and all the guilt and regret and sleepless nights came flooding back to my mind.
Had she really not seen how much I had loved her? How much I still loved her?
“Did you not trust me?” I asked.
She sniffled, and I broke.
“Did you not trust me!?”
“Sir, I think you need to leave.”
The manager had approached our table. I looked back at Ana, who was crying to herself in her chair.
“He’s my son,” I said. “My boy, Ana. And you had no right to rob me of that decision based on a fight that meant nothing.”
“It didn’t mean nothing at the time, Tyler. At the time, it was all I had.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, and tears rushed to my eyes.
“All you had.”
“I was scared, Tyler. I’d just found out I was pregnant and the boy I loved so much told me he was happy to get away from me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Tell me you were pregnant,” I said.
“Sir, you need to go,” the manager said.
“I’ve got one more thing to say, and then I’m done. Ana, you didn’t have just that to go on. You had two and a half years of love. Two and a half years of dates and laughter and nights where we snuck out just to see one another. Two and a half years of hour-long conversations over the phone and make-out sessions under the bleachers after football games. Two and a half years, and you judged the single most important moment of my life based on a few words I said in under two seconds.”
“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry, Tyler.”
“Put the lunch on my tab,” I said.
“No,” Ana said.
“I said put it on my tab,” I bit out.
“I’ll make sure it gets charged correctly,” the manager said. “But it’s time you and your temper leave my establishment.”
Leaving my food to cool on the table, I stumbled out of the restaurant. I tripped over chairs before I pushed myself out onto the street. Tears lined my eyes. My heart was shattered into pieces. I cupped my hands over my mouth and roared out into the bustling world of Los Angeles before I wandered around to find my car.
I had a son.
Holy shit. I had a son.