Someone Else's Baby
April 12th 2021
"You're shitting me."
Edward sighs, his cell in one hand, the other pulling at his hair as he stares at the ceiling. "I wish, Em. She's…" the spitting image of him.
If Lucas were a girl, he'd be Isabella Swan's clone.
As Emmett gets distracted by his yelling kids, Edward swallows hard and wonders if Rosalie was right when she said he was making a massive mistake flying out to Vegas to meet this woman.
Isabella Swan.
He really hadn't been sure what kind of reception he'd receive from her after their brief conversation on the phone a week ago. To say he'd been nervous, sitting alone in that coffee shop until Miss Swan arrived with her boyfriend, would be a gross understatement. Edward was responding to a text from his mom when he felt eyes on him, the prickly hot awareness of someone focusing their attention on his face.
Looking up into a pair of brown eyes as familiar as his own, in the face of a woman he'd set eyes on only a handful of times over a decade ago, the last candle of Edward's hope had been snuffed out.
For the last twelve years, he's been staring at those eyes in a different face.
His son's.
Returning to the phone, Emmett grumbles an apology. "You're getting a DNA test, though, right?"
"Right," Edward breathes, a knot in his stomach. "We were both overwhelmed by it all, but we went for the test after we left the coffee shop. They said it could be a couple of days to a week."
"Shit, man." Emmett blows out a big breath. "Are you stayin' out there until the results come in?"
"No, I'll be coming home Friday whether they're back or not. I'm meeting up with a couple of college buddies while I'm out here." A rueful smile tugs at the corners of Edward's mouth. "Part of my ruse to persuade Lucas there was nothing wrong."
Emmett barks a laugh. "I bet he's havin' a whale of a time with Mom and Dad, anyway."
"He is," Edward admits. "I spoke to Dad before I called you. Mom's helping Lucas bake cookies and Dad's taking him fishing after school tomorrow with some of his old buddies."
"He'll love that. I actually saw Dad's old buddy the other day...what's his name? Harvey?"
"Harry." Edward's mind wanders to his teens, when he'd come home from school to find his dad and Harry stinky and exhausted from being out all night on Harry's boat. They used to go out together a lot, especially after Harry's daughter died and Esme fought breast cancer for the second time. They leaned on each other through their hard times, and even now, some fifteen years after Carlisle and Esme moved to Chicago, they make time to spend a nostalgic afternoon on the water whenever the Cullens visit.
As Edward's phone pings and vibrates against his ear, he promises to keep his brother in the loop before hanging up and checking the new text message.
Call meeeee
A handful of seconds later, he's listening to his son's loud laughter.
"Hey, pal. How's it going?"
"Good. I just finished making cookies with Grandma and they're awesome."
Edward chuckles, "That's great! Save some for me?"
"No promises."
Not for the first time in the last few weeks, Edward feels a pang as he listens to his son, able to hear the smile in his voice even through the phone. Years of getting used to the inflections in his voice, the way he sounds when he's happy or sad or frustrated, of watching him grow from a fussy newborn into a precocious toddler into a kind, funny boy…
It's their bond, their father-son connection. A tie Edward never could have pictured fraying.
He's determined not to let it.
"You're comin' home Friday, right?"
"Uh-huh. I'll be back in time to pick you up from school."
"Oh, uh, actually, I was gonna ask if I could go over to Uncle Em's after school? Henry is watching the girls while Uncle Em and Aunt Rose go out for dinner with Grandma and Grandpa, so he asked if I wanted to go be moral support. You know, so he's not as outnumbered."
With a lump in his throat, Edward agrees on the condition that he goes to bed at a reasonable time, then he leans against the headboard and listens to his son goofing around with his grandparents.
Two people who adore him, would walk to the ends of the Earth for him—and their other four grandchildren.
Two people who would be devastated if they knew the real reason for his impromptu trip.
Explaining it away as a work conference hadn't been easy, especially as he'd been struggling to hold back tears the whole time, but they'd bought it eventually.
Only time would tell if he would have to confess the real reason he'd needed to take off for Vegas so unexpectedly.
"All right, I'm gonna go. We're gonna make popcorn and have chili dogs while we watch a movie."
Edward can picture it perfectly. He smiles, wishing he could be there. Remembering so many chili dog and popcorn movie nights over the years. "Okay, pal. Have fun, and make sure—"
"I go to bed at a decent time," he groans cheekily. "I know the drill. And so do Grandma and Grandpa."
"Okay. Well, enjoy yourself. Tell Grandma I'll give her a call in the morning."
"Uh-huh."
"Love you, bud."
"Love you, Dad," Lucas half groans, half laughs, before hanging up and leaving his dad staring at an unfamiliar view, wondering about an unfamiliar boy who might not be unfamiliar, at all.
~ oOo ~
While he waits for the results, Edward tries to preoccupy himself by visiting his old college friends. He goes to a sports bar with Riley and Liam, the trio playing pool and sinking beers and befriending the other guys on the table beside them. For a few hours, he can almost forget why he's even in Las Vegas.
Later that night, he joins Riley's family for a barbecue, his two children making him wistful as they run around the pool in their swimsuits and floaties.
It doesn't feel like so long ago that Lucas wore floaties with little ducks on them.
Now he's a preteen and prefers all things 'cool.'
While Riley's wife cajoles their son and daughter into the house at bedtime, he and Edward sink into the cushioned lounge chairs on the deck, beer in hand and the sunset painting the sky a kaleidoscope of colors.
"So. What's the real reason you dragged your rain-loving ass out here?" Riley asks with a smirk.
Sighing, Edward grins ruefully. "I never could get one by you, huh?"
"Not at college, and definitely not now," he agrees. "Now, spill."
So, he does.
Riley becomes only the fourth person he's told about this whole, sorry mess—after Emmett, Rosalie, and Isabella Swan. He does well at covering most of his surprise, but Edward winces when Riley's eyebrows shoot up at his mention of not having any lawyers involved.
"Look, Ed, you know I wouldn't bullshit you, right?"
Edward nods and chugs a few long mouthfuls of his beer, knowing where this is headed.
"Some counsel wouldn't go amiss here, buddy. I get what you're doing, trying to keep this all amicable, but…" he trails off, pondering his words, Edward thinks. "I know a few great guys who practice family law, let me give you their numbers. You can check them out, meet with them, whatever. See if any of them can help. One's even in Seattle now, I think, so they're up in your neck of the woods."
Swallowing hard, Edward reminds himself that Riley isn't saying anything he hasn't already thought. He's being a good friend, looking out for him the best way he can. And he's probably right, Edward knows that.
It couldn't hurt to have a lawyer on hand, just in case, could it?
Riley blows out a big breath and reaches over to clap him on the shoulder, a small, sympathetic smile in place. "I hope this all pans out and you don't need a lawyer, but my gut says you need to prepare for shit hitting the fan."
~ oOo ~
Edward sleeps fitfully after saying a somber 'goodbye' to Riley and Victoria, promising not to be such a stranger in the future.
Tossing and turning in his unfamiliar hotel bed, he finally scoots up and pulls his tablet from the nightstand drawer, losing himself in the digital photo album on it, filled with memories of his life with Lucas.
The first picture puts a lump in Edward's throat and makes his eyes sting. The photo was taken just minutes after Angela pushed a beautiful baby boy into the world, the smattering of hair on his head dark and damp.
Edward hadn't batted an eyelid when they brought the baby back from the nursery after giving him a once over. He'd expected his hair to be lighter once it was dry, but he'd put the coloring down to Angela's own black tresses.
Now, he wondered if the photo on the next page, one a nurse had snapped of him cradling baby Lucas hours later, was actually him holding Isabella Swan's child.
If they'd been swapped in that short space of time.
The hospital CEO had promised a thorough investigation, but Edward knows the chances of ever getting a concrete answer on the 'how' front is slim. It was over twelve years ago, and according to the CEO, the nurses on shift that night don't even work at the hospital anymore.
Tears start to stream over his cheeks as he turns each digital page, each picture a memory, a pivotal stone on the path of his life.
Each picture...a lie?
He watches his little boy grow up, wondering if these are stolen moments he never should have had with a child who isn't his.
And then he reaches the photo of Lucas in hospital after his first Wolff Parkinson White episode. It was easily the scariest day of Edward's life to date.
Lucas's weak smile as his dad leans over the side of the hospital bed to kiss his head closes Edward's throat.
Just seven years old and diagnosed with a potentially life-threatening syndrome.
Now Edward knows that he may have inherited it from...his biological mother, if that's who Isabella Swan actually is.
The room falls dark as Edward presses the button to shut off the screen, palming his face and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Giving up on sleep, he swaps pajama pants for sweats and a tee, sliding his feet into sneakers and quietly slipping from his room for a run.
Two hours later, he's freshly showered and just finishing a breakfast that sits like lead in his stomach when it flips, Isabella Swan's name lighting his phone screen.
Isabella Swan
1 new message
Edward swallows hard, reading the first line of the message before his cell screen fades from lack of activity.
The results are in. Do you want me to wait—