He sits and he waits for her to enter the room. His hands are shaking, his breath is ragged. He cannot stop thinking about how his life is going to change forever. How will I make up for lost time? How will I explain this to everyone else? How will I explain this to him?

He runs his shaky fingers through his tangled, brown hair. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his frantic nerves. As he hears the click click click of a woman's heals, his eyes snap open. In the doorway stands a tall, slender woman. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair is laying gently on her shoulders; her almond-shaped brown eyes are glassy. He can tell she has been crying.

He watches as she takes a deep breath before stepping into the room. She cautiously takes a seat next to him, keeping her head down, her face hidden by a curtain of hair. He sits there, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. They sit in silence-the only sound is that of the young girl's soft sobs.

Should I say something to her? Should I make the first move? Do I reach out and grab her hand, tell her everything will be alright? Do I tell her I miss her-I need her?

Should I say something to him?  Should I make the first move?  Do I reach out and grab his hand, tell him everything will be alright?  Do I tell him I miss him-I need him?

He reaches out to her, moving her hair to the side, exposing her tear-streaked face. She looks deep into his soft, blue eyes, hoping that he sees the desire that burns within her own. He runs his thumb along her cheek, wiping away the path of tears. She reaches out and places her hand on his warm cheek. Their eyes lock instantly. He can see the firey passion in her eyes-the same passion he saw those many months ago. She can see remorse in his eyes-a strange feeling for someone of his nature. 

Their intimate moment comes to an end as an elderly woman enters the room. In her arms she hold a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. The young woman rises from the setee and takes the bundle. She and the elderly woman exchange a few words before the young lady returns to her seat next to him.

She looks into his eyes, searching for some expression of joy or excitement. Instead, she can only see fear and horror. Taking a deep breath, she moves the blanket from around the small bundle's face. Exposed before his very eyes, is a small child. The baby's eyes, a soft, gentle blue, open and close slowly as the child falters into a sleep. Light brown curls cover the small child's head.

He looks from the baby to the woman. His thoughts are racing, his mind is frantic. He shakes his head before rising to his feet. She rises to her feet as well. She reaches out to him, her hand resting gently on his forearm. Their eyes lock again. This time, something is different. Her eyes are soft, gentle. She knows that they can make it together if they try. His eyes are hard, rough. He's not so sure he can do it.

He pulls away from her loving touch. When he reaches the doorway, he turns to look at her one last time. She gazes at him, tears streaming down her face, as she sways back and forth, easing the baby to sleep. With one final farewell gesture, he walks out the door and out of their lives.

She sits on the setee, still rocking the baby. She looks down at his angelic face, running her finger along his cheek, feeling his soft skin. She shakes her head as her tears flow freely down her face. She leans down and kisses the baby's forehead, wishing she could do better.

She wishes that he would come back; she wishes she could turn back time, back to when things were normal. She wishes he would tell her he'll try to do his part-he'll be there for her and her little boy.

But it seems like he will forever be nothing more to him then a secret son.