Page 189 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

The words almost take me apart. I hold him tighter. "You have me now." His shoulders shake.

"So hear me, Diego. You need me, I'm there. You call me, I answer. I don't care what time it is or where you are." I pull back enough to look at him. "You're my son. I'm not missing anything else."

He nods. Neither of us bothers hiding the tears now.

"I love you," he says.

I close my eyes for a second. "I love you too, son."

We hold on again. No uncertainty this time. Just my son in my arms.

Eventually Diego steps back and wipes his face with his sleeve. "I'm really hungry now."

A laugh breaks out of me. "Go change."

"You're buying."

"I was already buying."

"Good."

He starts toward the cottage. "I'll wait here." He nods. "Okay." The door closes behind him.

I turn toward my truck. I make it two steps. Then stop.

I cover my face with both hands. For twelve years, I've wondered if my son would ever know I loved him. Now he does. My shoulders shake with the first sob. I don't fight the next one. Or the one after that. I stand beside my truck and let myself cry.

A few minutes later, I hear the cottage door open. I wipe my face and draw a breath. Diego walks toward me in a clean shirt. He takes one look at my face. Neither of us says anything about it.

"Betty's?" I ask.

"Betty's."

We get in the truck.

Lunch lasts longer than either of us plans. We talk about school, his job, the farm, whether Betty's apple pie deserves the reputation Noah has given it. It does. We don't talk about the letters again. We don't need to. For the first time, I understand how extraordinary ordinary things can be when you've missed twelve years of them.

After lunch, Diego comes back to the farm with me. We spend another couple of hours finishing the irrigation work, with significantly less water involved this time. When he finally gets ready to leave for Boston, Atlas follows him to his car. Diego scratches behind his ears.

"I'll be back in two weeks."

"You don't have to decide now."

"I already did."

Something warm settles in my chest. "Okay." He opens the driver's door, then turns back. This time the hug comes easily.

"Love you, Dad."

I close my arms around him. "Love you too."

He gets into the car. I stand there until he disappears down the road. He'll be back. I know that now.

It's a certainty I don't have with Maddy.

Two and a half months without her has developed its own rhythm too. The farm keeps moving. Diego comes when he can. Maddy and I talk when we can. Some nights that's twenty minutes. Some nights it's a message before one of us falls asleep. I know the expansion is finished. I know the restaurant is packed. I know she's proud of what she and Julian built. I'm proud of her too. I also know I miss her. What I don't know is whether Oakridge is still somewhere she thinks of coming back to.

Until today, I've been willing to leave that question alone. Now I can't stop hearing my son's voice.