Iris
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By dinnertime, Miles is bouncing with energy from his nap. We take our seats at the dinner table, digging into a saucy pasta dish
with glistening chicken breast and vibrant vegetables. Miles happily twirls his pasta around on his fork, his tongue stuck out in concentratio
For a few moments, we just enjoy the quiet, listening to the faint sound of ssical music ying on the radio and the city bustling below.
It feels like we never left home in Bo''Arrocan, although it''s much quieter there. The coastalmunity where I raised Miles is
more peaceful, the scent of seaweed and salt drifting through the air. It was a nice change from the hustle of Ordan.
But even after five years in Bo''Arrocan, I missed the noise of Ordan. Now, sitting here at our dining table, I feel more content than
I have in some time.
Even if Arthur is out there with his stic smile stered across every billboard and magazine cover.
Miles is still clutching his stuffed shark in hisp. It already has tomato sauce sttered on it, but that doesn''t seem to bother
him. I watch him slurp his pasta with a smirk on my face, knowing fully well that that shark is going tost all of three weeks
before it looks like it''s been run through a garbage disposal.
Suddenly, Miles looks up at me with that glint in his eyes that tells me that he has
a bombshell to drop. I suppress a sigh as he
says, "When can we see Daddy again?"
I''m
not sure w
to say. I''ve already lied and told him that Arthur isn''t his father, and no amount of trying to rationalize it by
telling myself that Arthur isn''t really Miles'' father, at least not in the way that counts, will change that. Nothing will convince
Miles, either.
"Do you really want to see him again?" I ask, even though I already know the
answer.
Miles nods vehemently. "I had so much fun today! He''s so tall, too. When he gave me a piggyback ride, I felt like I was flying."
I set my fork down and reach for my ss of red wine, suddenly feeling like I
need the alcohol to dull my frayed nerves. Taking a
sip, I reply, "He made quite the impression on you, huh?"
Miles nods, shoveling another messy forkful of pasta into his mouth and staining
his cheeks red with the sauce. It''s strange,
seeing him click so quickly with someone he barely knows.
When I hired his babysitter, it was an extremely rough start. He seemed to hate her, often kicking and screaming whenever I
would leave or even goingpletely nonverbal at times. It took over a year to get him to the point where he is now with her, and
it was such a struggle that I''m almost considering flying her out here to Ordan just to babysit whenever I need to go out without
Miles.
And then there''s Brian, Liam, and the twins. Miles has grown up so far with the twins, so they''re pretty much siblings to him.
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And Brian and Liam are like his adoptive fathers, and have always doted on him since birth.
But with Arthur, it''s... different.
Even human children, of course, have innate affection for their parents. It''s hardwired into our brains, an ancient survival instinct to be able to tell safety from strangers.
Werewolves are different, though. When they scent their kin, it''s like they imprint on them. Miles is only half-werewolf, so it
isn''t as pronounced as it might be with a full-blooded child, but it''s still there.
I hope, for everyone''s sake, that he hasn''t immediatelytched onto Arthur. But it is clear that Arthur has impacted Miles very
quickly, and now it''s going to be trouble trying to convince Miles that we don''t actually need to spend that much time together.
Still, I manage to say, "I''ll consider it," and that seems to satisfy Miles for now.
As I kiss Miles and tuck him into bedter, though, I feel my heart wrench with regret all over again. I want him to have a
rtionship with his father, truly.
It''s just... There are so many factors to consider, so many horrible things that have happened, that I''m not sure if I can bring
myself to say yes.
Maybe that''s selfish of me, but I can''t help it.