He listened to her speak for a moment and then he took his phone and threw it across the room where it struck the far wall and fell to the ground.
"Let's go," he said and turned to the door, not meeting my eyes.
I went to the phone and picked it up to find that the screen had cracked. Then, I followed him out and down the stairs, barely stopping long enough to lock the door behind me, my heart in my throat, wondering what it was she said that could make Drake, the otherwise carefully controlled man I knew, explode.
As we went down the stairs, my heart raced. I'd never seen Drake like this and it alarmed me. Whatever it was she said infuriated him – or scared the hell out of him.
"Drake," I said when we arrived in the lobby. "Tell me what's wrong." He stopped and I caught a look at his face. It was paler than pale, his blue eyes pained. "Tell me!"
He shook his head, opening the door for me. I left the building, taking the steps to the sidewalk. We walked down the street to where he'd parked. I waited for him to open the door. When he got to the car, his hands were shaking so much, he dropped his keys before he'd unlocked the doors.
"Fuck," he growled as he bent down to pick them out of the snow, wiping them off on his coat.
I got in the passenger side and he closed my door, then came around to the driver's side and got in. He sat for a moment, and stared at the console.
"Drake, you're scaring me." I reached out and took his hand in mine and squeezed. "Tell me what's wrong."
Finally, he turned to face me, his face blanched. He exhaled heavily.
"I have a son."
CHAPTER TEN
We drove through the quiet streets, east towards my father's apartment on Park Avenue.
"Oh, Drake," I said, completely flustered, my cheeks hot. I struggled for words, not sure of what to say. "Maureen was pregnant when you broke up?"
He nodded, still so upset that he seemed unable to speak.
"Does she want you to meet him?"
"She didn’t say anything more than he was mine and we needed to talk."
I was silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry. You can drop me off at my father's."
He sighed as we came to a stoplight. "I don’t know what she wants, but why else would she come back to Manhattan? You're my life, Kate." He was silent as if considering. Then, he squeezed my hand. "I want you with me all the time. If you're willing, I'd like you to come with me. She has to know you and I are together."
"Do you think she wants you back?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea what she wants. She married this guy Chris who she met before we broke up. She said she'd tell me when we met."
"Where?"
"The hospital in Washington Heights. A coffee shop we used to go to. It's familiar ground, I guess."
I watched out the window as we changed direction and drove north to NYP.
I said nothing as we found a parking space. We walked hand in hand into the lobby of the building. A tall blonde woman stood silhouetted against the window, dressed fashionably in a long black cloth coat and cream scarf. She was very lovely, and just about the opposite of me in every way.
We walked up to her and she frowned when she saw me, looking me up and down, her grey eyes judging. "Is this your current slave?"
"This is Kate McDermott. Kate, this is Maureen Johnston, my ex-wife."
I nodded at her, a bit hurt that she thought of me as Drake's 'slave'. She glanced at me briefly and then turned her attention to Drake.
"I need you to come with me."
"Where?" Drake said.
"To Morgan Stanley. The oncology ward."
"Your son—"
"Our son," she corrected. "He's got leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant and so I thought you'd agree to be tested. You could be a match."
Drake frowned, his face flushing. "Yes. Of course."
"Can we go somewhere and talk?" she said and sighed. "I suppose this has come as a shock."
Drake made a funny sound in the back of his throat, but didn't reply. We followed Maureen down the long hallway to a small coffee shop where we purchased some coffee. We went to an empty table surrounded by other visitors and patients.
"So, tell me," Drake said, his hands around his cup, his face blanched. "How is it I have a son and I never heard about him?"
Maureen took off her scarf, removed her coat. She sat down and stirred her coffee. Finally, after taking a sip, she spoke, her voice low.
"I didn’t think he was yours. I thought he was Chris's. It wasn't until we tested Chris as a donor that we found out he wasn't related. It was then I knew." She glanced up at us, her face red. "I must have miscalculated my dates. I probably didn’t want to think he was yours."