I hadn't said a word to Leah. Through so many phone calls, research, and paperwork, I hadn't told the one person I cared about the most —the woman I lived with and loved with my entire being. Why? I was scared to death. What would she say? Would she hate me for making such a huge decision without her? Was she ready to be a mother? She could leave me. I couldn't live without her, but I couldn't ignore my duties as a father. I couldn't treat my son the way my father had treated me.
"Declan," Leah said, her voice soft and sleepy, "what are you doing awake?"
"Couldn't sleep," I simply stated.
"Are you okay?" she asked, lifting her head to meet my gaze.
"I want Connor."
"We get to see him this weekend," she encouraged, bending down to gently kiss my shoulder.
I should have said something. I should have talked to her before I contacted anyone. She should have been my first priority after Connor, but I'd panicked.
"I don't mean it like that. I mean, I want custody of him. I want all of him, all the time. I can't keep saying good-bye," I said without looking at her, afraid of her reaction.
Did she expect this? Would she be angry? God, I'd never been so f**king scared in my life.
"Say something," I whispered in the darkness.
"What do you want me to say?"
"That you won't leave me; that you'll stay."
"Is that what you're worried about?"
"Yes, this is a lot to ask of you. We aren't even married, and I'm asking you to be a mother to my child. How can I do that?"
"Declan, look at me."
I turned finally, and I saw none of the reactions I'd expected. Her eyes were not filled with anger or rejection. She wasn't turning to run or flee. She looked at me with nothing but love and compassion, reminding me of all the reasons I'd fallen for her. She was selfless in every way.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going anywhere. Am I scared that I won't be enough for him? Yes. I've worried about it every day since I saw that picture in your drawer. Since I was a child, I never planned on having children because I figured, after the upbringing I had, I could never be the type of mother any child deserved. What does a motherless child know about raising another?"
"You don't have anything to worry about. Don't you see it?" I asked, grasping her chin in my hand. "You're already there. You've been doing it ever since Connor came barreling down those stairs that first day...hell, ever since you sat with him in that hospital. Who do you think I've been learning from all these months? You might not be his mother, but that child adores you."
"I just...I don't know. I will always, always doubt myself," she whispered. "Why did she have to leave me, Declan? Why?"
It always came down to her mother. Every fear she had stemmed from the fact that she believed there was something innately wrong with her. Leah had come to the conclusion that this is the only reason her mother would have left.
I hadn't wanted to share this with her yet because I wasn't done with my investigation, but she needed it. She needed to know what I'd found since that day I sent her father packing.
"Get up," I commanded.
"What?"
"Get up, and put on your robe. We're going up to the attic."
"Why?" she scoffed.
"I have something I need to show you."
Five minutes later, she had her robe and signature fuzzy slippers on, and she was climbing the ladder to the attic.
"I hate this f**king ladder, Declan, so whatever is up here better be good." I gave her a quick kiss and a slap on the ass pointing to the ladder. She groaned, but started climbing and I followed behind. I won't lie —I checked out her ass the entire way up.
As soon as we made it through the tiny entrance, we stood, or crouched rather, as Leah took an appraising gaze over the dimly lit space.
"Okay, you want to tell me what we're doing up here, Hotshot?"
"Before we sold your dad's house, I had him give me everything that belonged to your mother," I said, motioning to a small box near the Christmas decorations.
There hadn't been much, but what was there was enough to make a major impact on Leah's life.
"What? Why would you do that?" she asked, staring at the box as if it were going to jump up and attack.
"I wanted to know if there was anything else...anything we could find out about her to give you closure," I explained.
"But why are you just now telling me this?"
"I hired a private investigator who was going to go deeper and try to look up court documents. I wanted his work to be finished before I told you anything, but I think you need to know now."
"Need to know what?" she asked, taking a step toward the box and then a step back.
She was warring with herself, unable to decide if she wanted to open Pandora's box or leave well enough alone.
In less than ten seconds, she would have her answer.
"Your mother didn't abandon you."
My words hit her like a gust of wind. Her knees shook before she quickly knelt, planting herself on the ground. I quickly joined her on the dusty wood floor and took her hand.
"What?"
"From what I can gather from the letters she sent your father, she tried to sneak the two of you out of the house one night, but your father caught her. She didn't love your father. She got caught in a bad situation and wanted out. She tried to save you both. When he found her, he kicked her out, saying he'd kill her if she ever came back. I think he kept you as a sick way of getting back at her. She left that night, but she never gave up on trying to get you back."
Leah couldn't speak.
After a few minutes, she said, "My whole life I thought she'd left because I'd done something or because I hadn't been good enough. But she'd left to protect me. I remember...I remember that night she left. She paused at my bedroom door on her way out. I always found it strange, but it suddenly makes so much sense. She loved me?"
"Yes, babe, she loved you. She spent the rest of her life trying to get you back until she died a few years later of pneumonia."
"But who put up the gravestone for her?" she asked.
"That's been a hard one. I was hoping there was a family member, someone you could reach out to, but the investigator says the plot was purchased by a woman who worked at the hospital your mother died in. She probably took pity on her and wanted her to have a nice burial plot."
"I can't believe you did this," she said, "I would have never known. My father never told me."