Rebecca

“Mama,” the child exclaimed, breathless and agitated.
Phoebe looked down at him in concern. “Justin, what is it?”
“Galoshes brought me a dead mouse. She dropped it on the floor right in front of me!”
“Oh, dear.” Tenderly Phoebe smoothed his dark, ruffled hair. “I’m afraid that’s what cats do. She thought it was a fine gift.”
“Nanny won’t touch it, and the housemaid screamed, and I had a fight with Ivo.”
Although Phoebe’s younger brother Ivo was technically Justin’s uncle, the boys were close enough in age to play together and quarrel.
“About the mouse?” Phoebe asked sympathetically.
“No, before the mouse. Ivo said there’s going to be a honeymoon and I can’t go because it’s for grownups.” The boy tilted his head back to look up at her, his lower lip quivering. “You wouldn’t go to the honeymoon without me, would you, Mama?”
“Darling, we’ve made no plans to travel yet. There’s too much to be done here, and we all need time to settle in. Perhaps in the spring—”
“Dad wouldn’t want to leave me behind. I know he wouldn’t!”
In the electrified silence that followed, Tom shot a glance at West, who looked blank and startled.
Slowly Phoebe lowered to the ground until her face was level with her son’s. “Do you mean Uncle West?” she asked gently. “Is that what you’re calling him now?”
Justin nodded. “I don’t want him to be my uncle—I already have too many of those. And if I don’t have a dad, I’ll never learn how to tie my shoes.”
Phoebe began to smile. “Why not call him Papa?” she suggested.
“If I did, you’d never know which one I was talking about,” Justin said reasonably, “the one in heaven or the one down here.”
Phoebe let out a breath of amusement. “You’re right, my clever boy.”
Justin looked up at the tall man beside him with a flicker of uncertainty. “I can call you Dad … can’t I? Do you like that name?”
A change came over West’s face, his color deepening, small muscles contorting with some powerful emotion. He snatched Justin up, one of his large hands clasping the small head as he kissed his cheek. “I love that name,” West said unsteadily. “I love it.” The boy’s arms went around his neck.
“Can we go to Africa for our honeymoon, Dad?” he heard Justin ask.
“Yes,” came West’s muffled voice.
“Can I have a pet crocodile, Dad?”
“Yes.”
Phoebe produced a handkerchief from seemingly out of nowhere and tucked it discreetly into one of West’s hands.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra