by Ellis, C. R.
But, in a way, maybe that’s for the best.
I didn’t have time to panic or question my abilities like most expectant parents. I didn’t have time to debate which brand of formula or diapers to use. I didn’t have time to think about the ways I was sure to royally screw up this whole parenting thing.
I just had her.
And she had me.
She’ll always have me.
I don’t know what I expected would happen when I told Elliot about Peyton, but I certainly hadn’t anticipated the way it would send our night spiraling into the gutter. After Elliot got off the phone, she looked a little sick and said something was going on with Sophia and she needed to go home immediately. When she didn’t offer any further explanation, I decided not to press the issue. Our car ride back to her apartment was quiet and awkward; basically the opposite of what our car ride had been only hours before.
The real irony of the situation was, while Elliot was upset I hadn’t told her about Peyton over the last couple of weeks, I was kicking myself for not calling Elliot over the last year.
Then again, as a single parent to an infant with health issues, socializing wasn’t even on my radar.
I told Elliot the first couple months of Peyton’s life were a blur, but it was probably more like the first year. Between the sleepless nights and countless doctor visits, I was in survival mode as a parent back then. When I wasn’t desperately trying to get her to fall asleep or stop crying, I was worrying and doing my own research about colic and infant ear infections and retinopathy of prematurity.
I was a mess. How could I have expected Elliot to understand any of that?
There was a time that confiding in and trusting Elliot was the easiest thing in the world. In a lot of ways, it still was.
But trusting her was one thing.
Divulging everything about Peyton and the reality that came with being a parent was entirely different.
There were so many layers of complications between the two of us that the risk-to-reward ratio of a potential relationship was staggering. Her life was hectic, and I knew that wasn’t changing any time soon. Plus, she had baggage. I’d never call my daughter baggage, but El was right when she said Peyton was my priority—that would never change.
But when it came to Uno…all bets were off.
* * *
“Don’t you have Wi-Fi at your house?” Xander asked, forgoing a formal greeting as I walked into Sipology.
“Yeah, but it sucks and freezes every time I try to FaceTime. And I’m out of beer.”
Xander nodded and slid a pint glass across the bar toward me. As much as he gave me grief for siphoning Wi-Fi and free beer from him, I knew he didn’t really care. Especially when it gave him the chance to see Peyton.
“This is the only one I’m having though; I’m heading out to the Kincaid property in a while,” I told him before picking the glass up and walking toward his office.
“Okay. I’ll be back there in a bit to see my girl,” he called.
A few minutes later, my toddler’s smiling face greeted me through the computer screen. I smiled back and studied her features. She was born with a little mop of dark hair, but eventually it lightened into a bronzish-brown. I used to wonder what color her eyes would be, and I found myself thankful that they’d turned green instead of darkening into brown like her mom’s. Only time would tell what all she’d inherit from Bridgette, but so far I saw a lot of myself in her. What I’d tell her when the day finally arrived that she asked about her mom…I had no idea. Especially considering that I can hardly stand to utter Bridgette's name out loud.
“Hi, baby,” I cooed, waving at the screen like a lunatic. “How’s it going? Are you having the best time with Lulu and Papa?”
Bridgette’s parents—David and Louise—had chosen their own grandparent names, insisting that ‘grandma’ and ‘grandpa’ sounded far too old and outdated for them.
Louise was a lifesaver, flying to Texas every other month to see Peyton. When I made the decision to move back home, I knew I owed it to David and Louise to allow them to continue being a huge part of Peyton’s life. Which was why we’d agreed that she would spend a few weeks with them every summer. While I knew it was good for her to be away from me, it still killed me every day to think about how much she was growing and changing without me.
Peyton waved and babbled a handful of the mostly-gibberish phrases she knew, throwing in a ‘Dada’ every now and then.
Louise moved the computer so they’d all three fit in the screen before shifting Peyton to her other leg and giving me a reassuring smile. “Can you tell Daddy what we did today? What we saw?” Louise asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“Duck!” Peyton squealed, clapping her hands together.
“You saw ducks? Lulu is spoiling you with all the adventures you’re going on,” I said, mostly teasing. I was seriously going to have to step up my parenting game when Peyton returned; the flexible work schedule David and I had worked out was designed so I could spend time having fun with her. I’d just been so occupied with The Rose House that I’d been accepting my mom’s offers to keep her more and more.
Again, I knew it wasn’t healthy for Peyton to rely on being with me 24/7, but I also knew I’d probably turn around and she’d be a teenager. I wanted to freeze time and keep her little for as long as I could.
Finding the perfect balance as a parent was fucking impossible sometimes. Most times.
Louise, David, and I continued talking about what they’d been up to over the last couple days, and I felt my worries melt away. I even let go of my questions about the colossal disaster my date with Elliot had turned into.
Xander barged into his office and wasted no time hijacking the computer from me a few minutes later. “Sweet P! How’s my favorite girl doing?”
After meeting Peyton last year, Xander had immediately taken to her, despite the fact that he always swore up and down he’d never have kids. I pointed this out to him, and he insisted that it was different because he just got to be the fun uncle instead of the parent. He said it allowed him to spoil the hell out of her, then give her back to me when it came time to be an actual parent.
God help me when he actually keeps her by himself.
Peyton’s smile when she saw my cousin was genuine; she was the one female Xander had ever had to work to impress, but once he did, it was game over. Peyton was totally infatuated with her Uncle Xander.
Louise coached her to give Xander the same information she gave me, so they went through the routine of talking about the ducks. Apparently, Peyton had ended up running around and scaring them off. Eventually, Xander blew her a kiss and left, mumbling curses about inventory and late shipments.
I checked my watch and sighed, realizing I’d be late if I didn’t leave soon. I looked back at the screen, allowing myself a couple more seconds of Peyton time. David was pretending to pop off her toes and eat them, and she was squealing and trying to cover her toes for protection. He continued to eat ‘po-Pey-toes’ off of an invisible plate, much to Peyton’s amusement. After a second, she shifted her attention back to me, and I felt the familiar one-two punch of gratitude that she was so happy, and guilt for being away from her.
“Did Papa eat all your toes?” I asked, feigning surprise. She shook her head, and a broad smile lit up her face, causing her eyes to squint into tiny slits. She was the picture of blissful happiness, and I almost drove to the airport then and there.
“Okay, baby girl, Daddy has to go,” I said, knowing not to drag this part out.
By now, we’d come up with a strategy for saying goodbye without the waterworks—distraction. “Oh! Peyton, I think it’s time to feed Moe!” Louise exclaimed.
Moe was their seventy-pound pig. They’d given Peyton a stuffed pig right after I brought her home to Seattle, and she’d practically been attached to it ever since. Seeing their real pig for the first time cemented her swine obsession.
“Tell Daddy goodbye,” Louise pro
mpted, waving at me.
Peyton waved and offered me a sweet, “Buh-bye, Dada!”
I blew her a kiss and promised to call her tomorrow.
Fuck, I miss her.
After I hung up, I gave myself a minute to quiet the part of my brain that questioned if I could handle being away from her for much longer.
She’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. This will be good for us.
It was impossible to keep my mind from drifting back to Elliot as I drove out to the Kincaid property. My head was all over the place when it came to the situation with her. I knew she felt like I’d pulled the rug out from under her, but I refused to regret the timing of telling her about Peyton.
The panic and self-doubt in her eyes told me everything her words failed to convey. She didn’t think she was worthy of any kind of parental role, whether temporary or permanent.
Fortunately, I knew better than to believe that for a second.
The fact that ghosts from El’s past still haunted her killed me. It also made me desperate for answers about what happened with Helen five years ago.
The similarities between Elliot’s mother and my daughter’s mother weren’t lost on me. Both were selfish and flighty at best, and self-destructive at worst. Both had absolutely no right to call themselves a parent. In my eyes, the day a parent walked out on a child, that’s it. There’s no coming back from that.
In the event that Bridgette wanted to see Peyton one day, I knew I’d move heaven and earth to shield my little girl from any pain that would cause. I’d do what I thought was best for her, whatever that turned out to be.
Just like I had when Elliot confided in me about Helen.
* * *
Five Years Ago
“Bryce? What can we do for you?” George asked, taking a seat at the conference table across from me.
For the hundredth time, the nervous tapping of my foot made me question my decision to come today. Last night, after walking Elliot home, sleep eluded me. El’s pain became my own; her tortured expression when she spoke of her mom haunted me, and I knew I had to do something. Even if it meant Elliot would hate me for it.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “There’s something I need to tell you both, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“What is it, honey?” Millie asked, concern lacing her tone.
I took one more breath and told them everything El had told me about the voicemail from Helen. “I told her to talk to you guys, that you should all go together, but she seemed to think y’all wouldn’t want her to go through with it.”
I studied their expressions and felt another sliver of doubt creep in. George’s jaw was clenched tight, his eyes hard and brows pulled tight. I wasn’t sure it was possible for a person’s entire face to frown, but that’s exactly what Millie’s face was doing. I couldn’t put my finger on what it all meant, but something told me this was not their first time dealing with their daughter in recent years.
Millie reached out and gripped George’s hand in hers, directing her gaze to him with concern etched on her face.
Their silence spoke volumes.
“What aren’t you guys telling me?” I asked.
“Helen has tried this sort of thing before,” Millie explained. Her hesitation gave my confusion roots. What? How? When? “Though this is the first time we know of that she’s contacted one of the girls directly. Every few years when the girls were younger, Helen would show up here, at the office, begging us to let her see them. But each time, she was high or drunk, always making a huge scene. Last time she even said she would go to rehab if we let her see Elliot and Sophia. But then she stole George’s wallet and disappeared. So, you can understand why we wouldn’t be eager for the girls to see her.”
Jesus. Shit. Fuck. That’s a lot.
“I…” I shook my head, still trying to process it all. “I had no idea. And you never told Elliot or Sophia about seeing her?”
“No. Absolutely not,” George boomed.
Millie patted his arm. “Bryce, it’s not that we wanted to keep her from them. If she had been sober, things would be different. We know the girls have questions about her, but we’ve done what we thought was best for them.”
“What if she’s sober now?”
“She’s not,” George asserted immediately. “She’s a junkie, a liar, and a thief, and those habits don’t just disappear because you say you’ve changed.” He turned to his wife and shook his head. “We’ve got to do something about this, Millie.”
“With all due respect,” I said, “you don’t know she’s not sober. Elliot is nineteen; she deserves answers, and this decision is hers to make. I came here so you could have the chance to go with her, to support her. Not so you could stop her.”
“You’re right, Bryce,” Millie said. “She does deserve answers. We just want what’s best for her. And for Sophia. Thank you for coming. We know this was probably difficult for you.”
Difficult? Try fucking gut-wrenching.
Whether she decided to tell them on her own or George and Millie brought the subject up themselves, the second she realized her grandparents knew about the voicemail, she’d know I betrayed her trust.
In my mind, I was looking out for her, trying to help.
In my gut, I knew El wouldn’t see it that way.
Between the way things ended last night and now going behind her back, I knew there was a chance I could lose her friendship permanently, regardless of the outcome with Helen.
“So you’ll talk to El? Go with her?” I asked, locking eyes with Millie. Her expression looked conflicted, and I tried not to read into it too much. Desperate was not a feeling I experienced often, but that’s exactly what I was—desperate to know my betrayal wasn’t in vain.
George pushed back from the table to stand, and I took his cue and stood too. He stuck his hand out and met my eyes. “You’ve always been a good friend to our Elliebelly, Bryce. Thank you. We’ll take care of it.”
* * *
Swallowing the disappointment I felt when Elliot was nowhere in sight, I grabbed my laptop bag and stepped out of my car, heading toward the inn’s porch.
“Bryce! So nice to see you, honey,” Millie gushed, pulling me into a hug like she hadn’t seen me in ages.
“You too, Millie. How was Vegas?”
“Let’s just say I won’t be giving those damn casinos any more money in this lifetime,” George grumbled at the same time that Millie laughed.
I nodded along, but wasn’t sure what to say, so I darted my eyes out to the driveway. “So are El and Sophia coming later, or…?”
Millie shook her head. “El texted earlier and said something came up with work, and Sophia had a paper to write. Kinda strange if you ask me; on Saturday they were both adamant about us all coming today. I thought Elliot was coming around to the idea of reopening the inn.”
“No problem. We can just do a walk-through and I'll describe what the girls and I already discussed, then I’ll show you guys the plans I’ve come up with.”
They nodded, and we all made our way through the front door.
Half an hour later, we braved the sweltering, late-summer heat and sat in back of the inn with a pitcher of Millie’s spiked lemonade. I showed them my designs, noting changes to make based on their comments.
Naturally, my mind drifted to Elliot. To the night she confided in me about her mother.
“Can I ask you guys something?” I asked abruptly.
“Of course, dear,” Millie replied.
“It’s about Helen.”
George grumbled something under his breath before downing a healthy portion of his remaining lemonade. Millie reached over and placed her palm on his other arm, rubbing up and down in a soothing gesture.
I swallowed, searching for the right words to carefully navigate this minefield. “What happened five years ago? After I told you about that voicemail.”
Until hearing El’s comments, I had assumed she simply chose not to meet Helen.
But something in her voice, in the pain and hurt that bled through her words when she spoke, told me otherwise.
Their silence amplified my doubt and replayed the events of that day on a hyper-speed loop in my mind.
“We took care of it, Bryce. That’s all there is to it,” George bit out.
The tic in his jaw warned me to proceed with caution. For a man on the cusp of his seventies, George Kincaid was still intimidating. The days of craning my neck to meet his eye were long gone, but that didn’t make him any less physically imposing.
“George,” Millie warned, giving him a stern look.
“What happened?” I repeated, refusing to pussyfoot around the topic.
“Soon after you left our office, Helen showed up. She begged us to hear her out, so we did. She swore she was sober, that she’d turned her life around. Even said she was married. We weren’t…we didn’t know what to believe.”
I forced my jaw to unclench and took a breath. “What did you do?”
George’s shoulders slumped, like this conversation was finally taking a toll on him. “Look, we’re not proud of it, but you’ve got to remember that Helen had a horrible track record when it came to her attempts to see the girls. So, we put her intentions to the test. We wrote her a check for twenty grand, post-dated for a month later, and told her she could either go through with meeting Elliot or take the money and never come back.”
“She never deposited the check, but she never came back either, and Elliot never mentioned anything about Helen contacting her to us. Her vanishing act was a pretty clear answer.”
My mouth fell open. No wonder Elliot hasn’t mentioned anything about it. She has no idea what really happened.
Still, I had to be sure. “Does El know?” I asked, praying the whispers and warnings in my head were wrong.
George shook his head. “We decided to keep the girls in the dark about our exchange with their mother. Why stir up unnecessary trouble?”