"Here we are," I sigh, happy that I've managed to control the shakiness of my voice while saying that. "What do you wanna do?"

         "Do you have any action figures? Or planes?" The little boy in front of me says, his brows raised as he looks around but the look in his eyes staying dull nonetheless. I pretty much have two things on my mind – how great it is that Kirsten taught him not to be shy and just ask for whatever he wants, and how cute it is that he asked for planes. Since his mum is a pilot and all.

         "Uh, no, the man who lives here has two daughters so I can only offer you Barbie dolls, but we're hoping that we're gonna be buying action figures and planes soon," I smile, and Conrad nods.

         "Is he your boyfriend?"

         "...What?"

         He turns to me, completely unfazed by his own question. "The man who lives here, is he your boyfriend?"

         While I'm not sure how to feel about the nature of his question, I can't help adding it to the list of good things Kirsten taught him. "Um, no, but he is my sister's boyfriend. He's her husband, actually."

         He raises his eyebrows even higher, "They're married?"

         "Yeah, and they let me live with them."

         "Why don't you have your own home?"

         There's something seriously wrong when even four year olds ask that. "Well, I actually do, but I'm still in the process of moving."

         I trail off, noticing he's continued looking around, not seeming really interested in what I'm saying. "Well," He starts, "I'll just play on my Nintendo."

         "Okay," I nod curtly, "Then, um, go in the living room, there's a TV if you feel like watching something, I'll get you some soda. Wait, does your mum let you have soda?"

         "No, only juice." He frowns a little, "She says soda is bad and that's why only grown ups drink soda."

         Okay. Okay, one doesn't really have much to do with the other, but okay. "Right, then I'll get you some juice. Do you have a favorite?"

         "Raspberry." Should've known.

         "Um... I don't think I've got any of that, you like anything else?"

         "...Strawberry?"

         "That I have, okay, go and get comfy, and I'll get you your juice."

         He turns around and walks away; looks like he and his mum have avoiding eye contact with me in common.

         I smile as I walk into the living room a couple minutes later, carrying Conrad's juice, and sit down next to him on the couch. I place the glass on the coffee table in front of us, not really looking at what he's doing, but looking at him. Even though he's already deep into playing with his monster. "So, what're you doing... Conrad?"

         "Feeding pizza to my Moshi monster. He's a Furi."

         Makes sense. "How was your flight?"

         "It was good."

         "Does your mum take you with her whenever she flies?"

         "Not always," He replies absentmindedly, "My dad took care of me when she started. I went to work with him and everything. And now she has to, because she says there's no one else to take care of me."

         I stroke his hair, my heart sinking to my stomach at his explanation. On one side I feel sad for him and his mother, and on the other I'm wondering – why the hell couldn't Kirsten and her new family move back to Chicago too? I mean, I get that it would've been a huge move, especially since she was already pregnant and everything, but she literally has no one in Florida. Her parents and brother are in a city two hours away from here, her sister actually is here, in Chicago, what made her stay on the other side of the country all these years?

         "So..." I blink a few times, clearing my head of all the questions that have been cluttering it. A four year old boy couldn't answer any of them, there's not point in giving myself a headache. "How-how have you been doing? You and your mum?"

         "Fine until my dad was here. Now mom cries all the time."

         "Do you cry?"

         Conrad shrugs, for a minute caught up in his game. "When I see her cry, I cry too."

         Right now I hate myself for ever hating that man – if only I'd known about Conrad, and how well he raised him until he was torn from them, I wouldn't have had one single bad thought about him. My bitterness about him getting Kirsten instead of me seems so small compared to this little guy having to grow up without him in his life. And he was doing a damn good job too, I mean, I feel like I'm taking care of someone's masterpiece and I'm gonna screw it up any moment now.

         "Do you, um..." I begin, just to fill the air up with words; I don't know why, but I suddenly have a bad feeling about all of this. "Maybe, want a snack or something?"

         "I'm good."

         "...What about a granola bar?"

         "Strawberry."

         I smile forcefully and pat his back, kissing his head before I get up from the couch to get him the candy, practicing inhaling and exhaling while I leave the living room. When I return from the kitchen, I notice his Nintendo is in his lap and he's just looking through it; well, that's not too good. I remember all the things Mallory thought about when Freya was away in medical school, I can imagine what he's thinking about now when his dad is gone. And his mum for that matter, she's not here with him and he's in a complete stranger's home, with a complete stranger watching over him. I really have a bad feeling about everything.

         "Here you go, buddy," I hand him the candy, becoming even more worried when he seems to take ages to take the granola bar from my hand. Which he supposedly loves. "There's another one in the kitchen, you can have it later."

         "Okay," He mumbles, and we fall into a minute long silence. "Harry?" My heart stops for a second when he calls my name, and I widen my eyes for a moment; before realizing I should probably look less freaked out around him. It's not like I didn't know he knows my name. "Can I ask you something?"

         I clear my throat as I sit up, leaning forward so that I can face the side of his head. The poor thing's still just staring at his hands. "Sure, whatever you want."

         "Are you my dad?"

         Before I can fully process his question – I'm not gonna lie, for a long few seconds I thought I'd heard him wrong – he turns his head to look at me, the sun rays coming from the window behind us brightening the green in his eyes; and there's just one answer on my mind.

         "Well..." But my surprise at his inquiry, along with the fact that Kirsten likely hadn't given him so much as a hint that I might be responsible for his existence, is making me hold the affirmative answer back. "Your mum probably doesn't want me to talk about this, but... I... might be."

         While I bite my lip at my poor answer, Conrad nods his head once, looking ahead at the TV; looking right through the TV, more specifically. "Do all kids get new dads when their old one dies?"

         I breathe out a laugh and close my eyes for a second – I should've predicted that his question would go in that kind of a direction. "No, no. Technically..." I trail off, shaking my head, "You'll understand when you're older."

         "Everybody tells me that."

         Another pang of guilt whacks me as I rub the boy's back, trying to think of a smart reply. He's killing me with every other thing he says. "Well, you know... us adults, we're not that smart, but you can trust us when it comes to some things. Such as... this."

         There's a reason I should've stayed an English major – I'd be coming up with better sentences and perhaps not sound like a cave man when I speak.

         Conrad doesn't seem to care, though, he doesn't seem to react at all; he's just eating away his granola bar, sitting in what is starting to feel like a comfortable silence. When he's done, he neatly places the wrapper on the coffee table, and looks around the room for a minute – before spotting the wall clock. "The short hand is on number five," He says, "I nap when the short hand is on number five."

         I blink a few times at first, not fully understanding him, before looking at the clock myself – and remembering Kirsten told me he takes his naps at five. "Oh! Yes, okay, uh..." I reach out for Niall's afternoon nap blanket and cushion on the other side of the sofa, "Here you go. Hey, do you might wanna sleep in one of the bedrooms? In a comfier bed?"

         "No, no," He shakes his head, almost carelessly as he pulls his legs up and lies down, and I cover him with the blanket. He does keep looking at me afterwards, though, and I raise my brows, offering him to speak if he has anything to say. "My... my mom naps with me. Because I have lots of bad dreams."

         I blink at him, not letting myself jump to conclusions. "Do you want me to nap with you?"

         A little hesitantly, he nods; and my entire body warms up at the little look of uncertainty on his face. "Well, okay," I sigh and sit on the edge of the sofa, having him automatically scoot over to the corner of it, and turn his back to me.

         "Goodnight, Harry." I smile as he says that, when I lie next to him and cautiously put my arm around his tiny frame.

         "Goodnight, Conrad."

         And as I lie here, with my arm around a boy who could possibly be my blood, I realize why everything felt so wrong a few minutes ago; because I'm simply not his parent. I'm not his dad. Yeah, there's a chance he's got my DNA, but I'm not the one who did this for the past four, almost five years. I'm not the one who napped with him, or taught him how to talk, how to walk, how to count to ten, none of those and a million other things. I'm just a mere stranger he met on two occasions, and if he never saw me again, he probably wouldn't recall meeting me at all.

         The only thing that's giving me peace, is that I didn't choose things to be that way. And as far as I'm concerned, if the paternity test I have yet to take comes back positive, things will change.

*

         I furrow my brows, my eyes still closed, almost wincing at the continuous sound of someone ringing the bell. I stay motionless, though, if someone is looking for the people that live here, they sure aren't looking for me. There's no one I can think of that-

         My eyes shoot open, "Shit."

         I sit up quickly, becoming a little dizzy at the action, and squint my eyes at the clock on the wall – 21:40. Oh shit, shit, this won't be good.

         "Con- Conrad? Wake up buddy," I shake the boy lying next to me until he turns on his back, opening his eyes almost in fright. "Wake up, we overslept. Your mum's here."

         As he sits up too, I get up and hurry over to the front door, no doubt in my mind that I'd told the little guy the truth about his mum being here. And as I fling the door open, I'm not surprised to see I was right; his very pissed off mum is here.

         "Hey, uh-" I'm cut off when she gets her bag off of her shoulder and starts smacking me with it, and at first I widen my eyes but then I realize I'm not surprised at all. I'm actually lucky that I'm not being held at gun point right now.

         "Where is Conrad?"

         "He's in the living room, rela-"

         "What the fuck, Harry?" She continues hitting me with the bag, and at this point I'm standing still and letting her do it. She might as well get all of her anger at me out now instead of some other time. "I called you thirty thousand times, I thought you were abducted!"

         "I know, I'm sorry. We overslept."

         Her face goes blank- oh no, that's not good. It's better for my sake that she has an angry face on. "You overslept? Are you kidding me right now?"

         "Look, he told me you nap with him too, I was just-"

         "Harry," She sighs, lowering her bag and putting her hands on her hips, "You don't fucking nap with him, you lie there for fifteen minutes tops until he falls asleep and then you go back to your life. That's parenting 101."

         "Well maybe I would've known that if..."

         I bite my tongue, regretting what I'd started saying, even before she turns to me with a harsh look and her finger up in my face. "Don't... do that. Don't go there, at least while I'm here, I already feel like a piece of shit as it is."

         "Now you know how I've felt the past five and a half years."

         "And what?" She steps closer to me- "You think I've lived in bliss all this time? Because I got married before people started noticing I was pregnant, right? You think a-a day passed where I didn't think about what I did to you, you think everything was good after Eric took a paternity test himself and it came back negative?"

         "What?" I breathe out, my eyes wide, and hers go wide too when she realizes she's said something she probably wouldn't have wanted to- and that's when little Conrad appears at the door.

         "Mom?" He says in a small voice, "I'm sorry I slept for so long. Harry slept too."

         She doesn't turn around right away; she keeps looking at me with a scared, remorseful look, and I, well, I've no idea how to react. My reaction actually depends on the answer to the questions – when did Eric take this paternity test and how long had she known that it was negative?

         "Honey," Kirsten calls, loudly, talking to Conrad but still looking at me. "We have to go."

         "Okay, let me just drink the juice Harry gave me."

         Kirsten sighs and closes her eyes at the sound of Conrad running back inside the living room, and walks over to sit on the ottoman that's opposite of the front door, her head in her hands; I'm still standing in the exact same spot.

         "He did a paternity test?" I ask in a low, but monotone voice, my hands on my hips, my mind still blank and not letting a single emotion come to the surface. Not even when she involuntarily nods her head. "When?"

         She takes one hand off of her face, rubbing her forehead with her other one. "When Conrad was a year old."

         Well, I sure am feeling an emotion now – anger. "A-a year? One year? You're telling me you've known this for the last four years and you-"

         I force my mouth shut when Conrad walks out of the living room again, oblivious to the tension in the air between his mom and I- I really wish I could be five years old again. I couldn't tell my ass and elbow apart when I was five, that must have been beautiful.

         But instead, I appear to have a five year old child.

         Who, apart from my DNA, has the DNA of a lying, coldblooded bitch.

         "I'm ready, mom," He says in a light tone, pulling me out of my thoughts, "Can you tie my shoes?"

         "Sure, baby." I watch them as he sits next to her, and she hastily pulls the sneakers on his feet, tying the shoelaces a little too tightly from what I can see. Everything Niall told me earlier – I'm not scared of it anymore. I'm not scared of looking at her and thinking I'm in love with her again. I actually can't believe I'm not suffocating while being in the same room as her. "Let's go now."

         She picks him up- "Thanks for the juice, Harry," Conrad says loudly as she carries him out of the room, and I'm still cemented in my spot while they leave- no, as shocked and angry as I am, I can't let it end at this.

         "Kirsten, wait," I exclaim, almost pressuring myself into leaving the apartment and going after them; luckily, I reach them even before the elevator does. "I need you to drive me to the hospital."

         She looks at me, stunned at my straightforward request, but then furrowing her brows and switching to looking worried. "Why? You okay?"

         "Yeah, no, it's not me, it's Freya." Now she raises her brows, making me continue, "She's... giving birth."

         Kirsten's reaction is almost dropping Conrad in shock. "What? She- how many children do they have?"

         "Well, right now, I'm guessing two and a half."

         "How many are they planning to have?"

         What's it to her? "As many as it takes for Niall to create a boy. He really wants a boy."

         She blinks at me, taking a breath to collect herself- when she does, she looks away from me again. Now I know why she can't even look at me – I wouldn't be able to look at myself if I was her, either. "Okay then," She replies in a soft, quiet tone, "I'll drop you off there."

         *

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