on him and he grinned wide.
“It’s amazing how much you two look alike,” Violet chattered nervously in the silence. “I bet in your baby pictures you couldn’t tell you two apart.”
Aidan just shook his head, apparently ignoring everything but Knox. “A part of me didn’t really believe all this until now, but it’s true. He’s my son.”
Violet winced and glanced over his shoulder into the hall beyond him. The neighbor she shared a vestibule with was incredibly nosey. “He is. Come in and you two can spend some quality bonding time together.”
He finally took a few steps into the apartment, allowing Violet to shut the door. He studied the child in her arms like an exhibit at an art gallery, trying to absorb and process every detail from a distance.
Violet looked down and noticed he had a gift bag in his hand. He’d need to put that down to hold Knox, which she was certain would come next if he could work up the nerve. He seemed both anxious and terrified about the prospect. “Why don’t you follow me into the living room where you can set your things down and get more comfortable?”
She turned, and he followed her until the hall opened up to a large contemporary space filled with light from the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows along two sides of her corner unit. In the center of the room, she’d put a grouping of comfortable white couches, the only splash of color being some blue throw pillows in the mostly white and gray space.
“Have you been around many babies before?” she asked. She wasn’t sure what his level of skill or comfort was with an infant. He could’ve raised his siblings or have another child she didn’t know about, unlike herself who had almost never even held a baby before Emma’s daughter, Georgette, arrived. For some reason, the thought of Aidan having another child made her jealous on Knox’s behalf.
“No, not really,” he said at last. “I was an only child. I don’t have any kids of my own—I mean, I don’t have any other kids. He’s my first. Basically, I’m clueless.”
Violet smiled. It seemed like a big admission for a man like him. She could tell that coming to the foundation for a grant had bothered him. His initial posture as he’d come through her office door had been defensive. He read like the kind of man who was used to being able to handle anything thrown his way without assistance from anyone. The fact that he’d come to her anyway because his project was important was something she appreciated. Knox was obviously important to him as well, or he likely wouldn’t have admitted his inexperience there, either.
“You’ll do fine. I didn’t know much when I started either. He’s not a small and fragile newborn anymore, so you won’t have trouble. He’s a sturdy boy, at the top of his percentile of weight and height for his age.”
At that, Aidan beamed with paternal pride. “I’ve always been pretty solid. I would’ve made a decent football player if I’d wanted to, but baseball was always my sport.” He held up the bag to show it to Violet before setting it on the coffee table. “That’s actually some Yankees outfits for him to wear and baby’s first baseball mitt. Now that I’m involved, I’ve got to make sure you’re raising him right.”
Violet chuckled. “We’re not Mets fans in my family, so no worries there. The foundation actually has a box suite at the new Yankees stadium if you’d like to take him to a game.” She shifted Knox in her arms until he was facing out. “Here,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and hold him? You’ll get over your nerves faster that way.”
She watched as all the muscles in his body tensed. Memories of touching each and every inch of them flashed through her mind as they flexed beneath his skin. She missed touching a man—the hard muscles, coarse hair and heated skin against her own. So different and yet so comforting. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about what she’d lost. She pushed the thoughts aside and focused on easing their son into his arms for the first time.
Aidan appeared nervous for a moment, but Knox snuggled comfortably against his chest and the tension lessened in him. He cradled him easily, instinctively bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. “Hey there, little guy,” he said.
Violet took a step back to give them some space and shield him from the tears that were forming in her eyes. She watched through blurry vision as Knox put his hand against Aidan’s cheek and giggled at the feel of his stubble. He hadn’t been around very many men, but he seemed to instantly take to Aidan. Perhaps he knew his father instinctually. Or perhaps Knox was just as drawn to Aidan as his mother was.
Watching the two together was such a touching moment for Violet. After everything she’d experienced over the past year, she’d begun to wonder if she’d ever get to witness a moment like this...if Knox would ever get to know the protective embrace of his real father. She’d been racked with guilt after Knox was born. Guilt for misleading Beau, although unintentionally. Guilt for not being able to remember something as important as who her baby’s father was. Guilt of knowing he might grow up never knowing his father, and his father never knowing he had a son, just because a taxi driver got impatient and wiped the memories from her mind.
Then Aidan had walked into her office and the opportunity suddenly appeared to put everything to rights. They’d all been given a chance to start again and do things the way they should’ve been done to begin with. Now she couldn’t understand why she’d been so anxious about Aidan’s visit. She couldn’t be more grateful to witness this touching moment between father and son. She’d cherish this memory forever.
It was special. Perfect.
And then Knox puked applesauce down the front of Aidan’s polo shirt.
If you’d told Aidan six months ago that he’d be half-naked in Violet’s apartment today, he would’ve laughed. Then again, back then he hadn’t known about his new son or factored in how far the boy could projectile vomit applesauce.
“I just put your shirt in the dryer, so you should be able to wear it home,” Violet said as she came back into the room with Knox on her hip.
After the applesauce incident, Aidan and Knox had played while Violet cleaned up and threw their clothes in the washer. She’d quickly changed the baby into a little outfit with a train embroidered on the chest.
“I don’t really have anything in the house that would fit you.” Violet’s gaze ran over his bare chest, then shifted quickly to the art on the wall over his shoulder. “I’m sorry about the mess. Having an infant has been hard on my drive for perfection.”
“It’s my fault,” Aidan admitted. “I should know better than to bounce a baby if I’m not sure how long it’s been since he’s eaten last.”
“I suppose you’ll always remember the first time you held your son, now,” she said with a chuckle.
“How could I forget? Even without the spit up it’s a pretty momentous event.”
Aidan noted that his words brought a shadow across Violet’s face, stealing the light humor from her words. Her gaze dropped to the floor in contemplation. Suddenly she seemed sad, although he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d missed out on the first few months of his son’s life, or because he’d finally caught up with her. His unexpected arrival had to be a complication to her life.
Aidan took the moment
