You swallowed. “This isn’t your fault.”
See more on the next page
“No,” he said. “But I almost joined a family that made you believe it was yours.”
Mateo peeked up at him.
Julian crouched slightly. “I’m sorry they laughed, Mateo.”
Your son’s lip trembled. “I didn’t do anything.”
Julian’s voice broke just a little. “I know. You didn’t.”
Then Mateo did something that silenced the entire room.
He reached out and handed Julian a napkin.
“For your eyes,” he whispered.
Because Julian was crying.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
But enough.
Julian took the napkin like it was sacred.
“Thank you, buddy.”
Behind him, your mother made a sharp sound.
“You’re choosing them over your bride?”
Julian stood.
“No,” he said. “I’m choosing the kind of man I still have a chance to be.”
Then he turned to you.
“Do you have a ride home?”
