Just because his mother had once coveted Crosby’s money didn’t mean Laurel felt the same way. He didn’t blame Laurel for being angry, especially since they’d been struggling for so long to learn to communicate.
If he kept going like this, he was going to end up completely alone. For a man who had taken such pride in his family only a couple of weeks earlier, that was hard even to contemplate.
To say that Laurel was having a difficult day would have been a massive understatement. Tyler woke up from his nap sore and cranky, maybe sensing the undercurrents of tension in his home. Jackson brooded in a corner of the den, pretending to watch golf on TV—and he didn’t even like golf. He made an occasional effort to pay attention to his son, but Tyler was in a mood to whine and cling to his mommy.
Torn between them, feeling as if they both needed something from her she didn’t know how to offer, Laurel went about her usual household chores as best as she could with Tyler practically clinging to her legs. It was all she knew to do to make everything appear normal and reassuring for Tyler, when everything was so obviously not normal.
She served an early dinner that no one ate. Passed out cookies that were nibbled then abandoned. Started conversations with Jackson that quickly fizzled into silence. Tried playing games that didn’t hold Tyler’s interest.
At her wit’s end, she
finally gave Tyler some pain relievers for his discomfort, then settled into a rocking chair with him and his stuffed penguin in her lap. Three choruses of “You Are My Sunshine” later, he was sound asleep.
“Is he okay?” Jackson leaned against the doorway of Tyler’s room, watching her gently rock their child. She didn’t know how long he had been there, since he’d made no sound until he spoke.
Though she was still annoyed with him over that crack about her supposed interest in his biological father’s money, she tried to keep her quiet tone cordial. “His incision is bothering him some. And he still tires too easily. I was warned to expect those things, but he gets stronger every day.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “I was just about to put him to bed. I think he’s out for the night.”
Jackson glanced at his watch. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”
“His usual bedtime is eight-thirty,” she reminded him. She supposed he’d forgotten since he was so rarely home before nine. “He needs about ten hours of sleep a night at this stage.”
“Here.” He moved away from the doorway. “Let me carry him to the bed for you.”
Tyler barely stirred during the transfer from Laurel’s arms to Jackson’s. “Daddy?” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
“Just putting you into bed, sport.”
“’Kay.”
Jackson was smiling a little when he bent to deposit the boy onto his pillows. It was the first time Laurel had seen him smile all day.
She moved to the other side of the bed to tuck Tyler in, settling Angus into the crook of his arm. “Good night, sweetie,” she whispered, kissing his soft cheek.
His eyes still closed, Tyler breathed, “Night, Mommy.”
He was asleep again before she straightened up.
She and Jackson both stood for several long minutes on opposite sides of the bed, gazing down at their son. And then their eyes lifted, and they stared, instead, at each other.
“He’s still the best part of me,” Jackson murmured.
“The best part of us both.”
“Someday I’ll have to tell him the truth about his heritage.”
She nodded. “Yes. He’ll need to know his complete medical history.”
Jackson pushed a hand through his hair. Though he still spoke very quietly, there was a great deal of emotion roiling in his voice when he said, “I was always so proud to be a Reiss. I wanted Tyler to share that pride.”
She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. “He will. He does. You’re still Carl Reiss’s son, and this is his grandson. That hasn’t changed.”
“Hasn’t it?” He looked away from her. “I need to go by the office to pick up some paperwork for tomorrow. I won’t be gone long.”
He was running again. From her this time, probably because he was afraid she saw too well what he was going through.