Hesitation passed over his hard, masculine features. Faint lines formed around his eyes, and the ones in his forehead deepened. The tightening of his lips was the final straw that had me worried he may not hear me out. And if he did, would he believe me?

But then the word, “Okay,” slipped free from his lips, restoring hope in my heart that he’d listen.

All these years, and you’re really here. Colin found you.

It was the thing of movies and romance novels, not real life.

But I wouldn’t better-late-than-never my way through this. Not when Colin had been the one to suffer.

And now, Constantine was, too. The idea of missing out on sixteen years of my son’s life was unimaginable. But for the man before me, it was now his reality.

And that broke my heart. Shattered it into a million pieces all over again. Just as it had when Easton gave me the news his contact couldn’t track down my mystery man.

“Come with me.” I started for my bedroom, and he followed behind, but he didn’t join me in my room.

Instead, he stood in the doorway like a statement, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame while crossing his ankles and arms. His eyes remained fixed on my bed. I highly doubted the rigidness of his body had to do with a disdain for the color purple or beds in general.

You think I kept him from you. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

When I turned away from him, a chill darted up my back and spread throughout my body, causing a slight chatter of my back teeth. Once at my dresser, I caught his eyes in the mirror, and the pensive and painful expression pointed my way made me want to shrivel up and disappear.

I couldn’t bear looking at him with that kind of hurt in his eyes, so I reset my attention on the task at hand—to share the truth about the past.

Here goes.

Removing a Ziploc bag hidden beneath my socks in the top dresser drawer, I turned and approached him, extending the offering between us.

His gaze slanted over it, and his foot dropped to the floor as he straightened his stance and took it from me.

He’d easily be able to see the marker had bled through the napkin and was mostly smudged and illegible. He lowered the Ziploc bag to his side as he studied me, waiting for an explanation.

“When I woke up, and you were gone, I realized I made a mistake wanting to be strangers. But I was too late.”

I shared the rest of the story with him—from jumping naked into the pool for the napkin to taking off for the airport to chase after him.