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A M A Y A

On Friday, the doorbell rings at exactly 59 seconds past 9 am - the time by which Carter said he would be here to be with Parker all day.

With one ear pressed to the phone, I run on my toes towards the door. The monitor shows me a zoomed-in face of Carter who looks as fresh as ever for an early appearance. I turn the knob, unlatch the chain, and pull the door open to a hot-blooded handsomeness staring right at me.

He is dressed in casuals - in a half-sleeved royal blue T-shirt that sticks to his body in a firm way and jeans. His beard covers a part of his face, neatly trimmed, and his biceps flex beneath the sleeves with every movement. His hair has a messy style, adding to his rugged looks. When his eyes find my face, he throws me an awkward smile.

"Mom...I'll call you later. Carter's here," I say over the phone, my gaze fixed on Carter whose heated look travels down my body.

His jaw tightens when he notices that I am once again dressed in nothing but one of his old shirts. My hair is thrown together in a messy bun and I know that my bare feet are covered in flour. I have a strange calmness on my nerves when he brings his attention back to my face.

"Carter's there!?" Mom gasps from the other end, her voice high-pitched in my ear. "Give him the phone. Right now, Amaya."

That's not happening anytime soon. I am not the villain here and I don't want Carter to take me for one. We are already walking on a tightrope. The least we can do is behave like mature adults.

"Gotta go, Mum. Bye."

I cut the call midway through her words. Placing my hands in front of me, I stand there in a cumbrous manner, my toes tickling at the presence of the man before me. My subconscious reminds me that he would be there the whole day with us. Carter leans by the doorframe, a side of his lips pulled to a smirk.

"That's my favorite shirt," he says.

I know I am blushing without intending to. That's just the effect he has on me and I can't deny that I like it.

"Good morning, Carter," I say in return, pretending that I wasn't just a victim of his charms.

"Good morning, Miss. Sommers." He straightens, the tips of his fingers sliding into the pockets of his jeans. "Is our son up yet?"

"He is."

"And did you tell him what you promised you would?"

My response is dead silence which leads Carter's smirk to wipe from his face. He gives me a blank stare as he steps inside the apartment, pushing the door to shut behind him.

"Carter...I promise I'll tell him," I say before he can reprimand me. "I just don't think today's a good day. Plus...I have been busy all morning."

He raises a dark brow. "What have you been up to?" He then looks around the hall with a frown on. "And why does the apartment look so dull? Won't you throw a party for Parker?"

I wring my fingers, putting my weight on my toes at his question. "Yeah...I did want to throw a party. I just didn't have the time to invite people."

Even saying it embarrasses me. This is clearly my fault. With Carter in the city and my brain forcing me to prove myself professionally to him, I had become negligent of my son. This morning, I woke up and found him sitting on top of me, his big green eyes blinking in inquisition. When I wished him a happy birthday, his first question was about when his friends from playschool were coming to the party. That's when I remembered that I was supposed to throw a party. The phone call with Mom was basically her scolding me for being stupid from the other end.

"You mean to say you forgot our only son's birthday preparations?" Carter folds his arms over his chest, his stance not seeming the least bit welcoming.

I feel the first prick of tears forming in my eyes at his accusatory tone. I have been spending my time feeling guilty and him reminding me of that makes the feeling uglier.

"I know...it's my mistake. I...I'm making it up to him by preparing his favorite dishes for breakfast today. Would you like to join us?"

His only response is to let out a heavy sigh. He pinches the spot between his brows with one hand while his other hand rests on a hip.

"Fine..." he exhales. "Let's see what you're making."

Relief washes over me. I turn around, strutting towards the kitchen and he follows me inside. The place is a mess already with flour all over the floor, three pieces of burnt pancakes, and a recipe book open on the counter. I reach the counter and pick the recipe book for Carter to see. He scans it with narrowed eyes.

"Pancakes?" he says. "You wanna make up to our son with pancakes?"

"They are his favorite," I defend myself, staring at the flour-covered pages of the recipe. "I just don't know how to make some. We always buy them from the bakery downstairs."

"Why not today then?" he asks.

"Well..." I begin with a shrug, placing the book back on the counter. "I thought it'd be more intimate if I made them myself. As an apology?"

Carter's expression makes it clear that he does not believe my words. He looks disinterested in fact, continuing to give me that annoying frown before he takes his phone out of his pocket and swipes the screen on.

"That's it, I'm calling Dawson. Parker can't be spending the day at home eating pancakes."

"No...please." I grab his hand with the phone, stopping him before he can dial Dawson's number. "Just let me make-up to him and then you can have your turn. Please...Carter..."

My hold is tight, my voice is pleading, and I can see that it affects him. He turns my hand in his grip until it is him who is holding me by my wrists. His thumb brushes along the sensitive skin, causing the chemicals in my body to trail a path from my nerves to my head. My toes curl on the floor, his touch so breezy and light.

I stay quiet, my heart beating fast as he comes closer. He places his hands on both sides of me on the counter. He leans in so that our faces are close and we are both looking into each other's eyes.

"Am..." he hums, his gaze flickering to my throat as I swallow a gulp at the sound of his voice saying my name. "What's wrong? There's something you aren't telling me."

Bold of me to assume I would suddenly become unreadable to a man who knew me so well for four whole years.

"Nothing...nothing at all."

I shake my head along with my words, a bouncy tendril of hair jumping against my cheekbone. Carter licks his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. His eyes darken, that lingering depth in them a teasing hint of stupid promises he would never learn to keep.

"I get it..." he sighs. "You're scared that you'd disappoint him on his birthday. So you expect me to disappoint him too."

He pulls away, his hands moving back to his pockets. I look down, my cheeks heating up with horrific unease.

"No...it's not that."

"Don't lie to me, Amaya," he says, his voice carrying a warning tone and although it strikes a chord in me, I know that I am the one at fault this time because his speculation is 100% on the spot.

"Carter, please...I don't want to fight with you on our son's birthday."

"Yes. Our son's birthday. Learn to accept that, Amaya, 'cause I ain't going anywhere now."

If I am to believe that, then I would have to go back to the time when he made such promises between us too. There was once a time I believed all the words that came from his mouth. He took that from me.

"I don't trust you," I declare flatly.

"Doesn't change his DNA so let's drop the pretense," he states too. "You can't run away from the truth, Am. I need you to tell him that I am his father. I need you to understand that being close to me wouldn't take him far from you. He needs me. You have to accept that."

I sniffle, rubbing my tears with the sleeve of Carter's shirt.

"You're gonna force me to do this, won't you?"

His shoulders rise and fall dismissively. "I'd if that's what's needed. It's now or never, Am. You can't escape my relationship with my son."

I grab the counter until my knuckles are white. The heaviness inside me rises as I dread the moment Carter is asking me to carry forward. Every bit of me is protesting but my heart says it's the right thing to do.

Parker needs his father. Right now perhaps more than anyone. I can't be this selfish.

"Okay..." I release a breath, pushing the hair out of my face. "Okay...let's do it."

His eyes widen a little, a bit of surprise glittering in his pupils.

"You ain't gonna back out again, right?" he presses.

"Nope. It's now or never."

I walk past him, prodding on my toes towards the room where my son is. I open the door with a creak and see Parker sitting on the floor.

His guitar is placed before him and he is plucking on its strings with a frown. He hasn't talked to me since morning and I can sense how upset my son is. I have disappointed him greatly and yet he isn't speaking of it much.

He is like that. Either too quiet or too loud. For the first two years of his life, I had to take him for therapy sessions because he wasn't showing the same signs of development as other kids. Music was the only thing that made him be like other kids. When he finally started to reach out to people himself, that's when I could stop worrying.

"Parker, look who's here!" I fake an exclamation as I enter the room.

Carter stops at the door. Parker looks up from his guitar, his face lighting up when he sees him and he rises on his little feet.

"Uncle Carter!" he shouts.

I hear Carter wince at the word. He meets my gaze, an anxious feeling shadowing his face as if he is doubting whether I would carry out my promise.

I touch Parker's arm, making him look at me from his Dad. Sitting on my knees before him, I turn him to face me.

"Parker, honey..." I caress his hair, the quickening of my heart beats a signal of how scared I am to speak the truth. "Remember how you once asked me about your Dad?"

"Yes, Mommy." He nods

"Honey...I...I lied to you," I confess. "You have a Dad too."

His round lips part as he soaks in my confession.

"I do? Where is he?"

I squeeze Parker's arm, then look at Carter who is standing at the door with a nervous whiteness all over his features.

"It's him," I say. "Carter Bell. He is your Dad."

Parker blinks, turning his head to stare at Carter. Carter looks at him too, his chest a quick rise and fall of fast rhythmic patterns. His body trembles the more seconds pass. The air in the room turns thicker, the tension between the three of us building.

"Uncle Carter is Dad?" Parker asks, still looking at Carter.

"Yes, honey. He is your Dad."

When Parker remains quiet, staring at Carter in awe, the latter breaks into a nervous smile. Slowly, Carter slides his hands out of his pocket and raises them towards his son.

"Happy birthday, son," Carter says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he attempts to hold back his tears.

I suck in a breath as Parker flinches from me, proceeding to run on his toes towards Carter.

"Dad!" he exclaims, eyes wide and bright as he jumps into Carter's open hands.

I let out a long-held strangled sob as Carter picks up his son and presses him to his chest, so close, so tight. He shuts his eyes, burying his face in the crook of Parker's neck.

"Dad...I missed you," Parker says, laying his head on Carter's shoulder, his small arms wrapping around his father's neck.

"I missed you too, son," Carter chokes out, tears springing from his eyes. "I missed you too."

The father and son stay engulfed in each other's arms, lost to the world, and I feel the rush of their happiness to the deepest parts of my being.