by Karla Doyle
“I don’t know her well enough to gauge her future actions, but she was firm in her immediate plan. She’d had counseling while she was pregnant. The legal stuff was already in motion, whether I said yes, or the baby went to adoptive parents. She called me to the hospital only to give me an opportunity to take custody, no other underlying reason. She didn’t pressure me to take the baby—I could have walked away and never looked back. As for what’ll happen if she comes back one day and wants to be a part of Sachi’s life, I’ll figure that out if and when that happens.”
“Sachi?”
A smile crested on his face as he nodded. A proud-father smile. “It’s a Japanese name. Michelle is half Japanese, so I thought it would be good to give the baby a tie to that part of her heritage. It means ‘blissful child.’ So far, it’s true.”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
“Thanks. Do you want to meet her?”
“No.” The answer came out before she had a chance to think.
Sam’s smile dissolved into a straight line. “No, as in, not until we’re done talking, or, no, as in, not ever?”
“No, as in, not today. And…I’m not sure about the ever part.”
“Why? I don’t get it. You’re such an amazing, dedicated mom.”
“To my child, yes. Lennox is the child I wanted desperately. She’s also the only child I ever wanted.”
“I’m not asking you to jump in and be an instant mom to Sachi.”
“What about eventually, at some point down the road? Is it in your mind that I might fill the mom role in some capacity?” She raised her hand before he could answer. Hearing any version of confirmation would only make the next part harder. “I’m forty-two. I’m too old to go back to the beginning of the cycle.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re not too old for anything. Besides, you said your parents were in their mid-forties when they had you.”
“They were. And they’re both gone. Because they started so late, they didn’t get to see Lennox sing in the Christmas choir. They aren’t around to watch her grow up. They were barely able to watch me.”
“It won’t be that way for you. You told me your parents were unhealthy, used-up people. You’re the opposite.”
“You’re right, I am. I’m in the prime of my life. I’m healthy and active. My daughter is on the cusp of independence. I want the next chapter of my life to be filled with fun and freedom, not feeding schedules and babyproofing and being so tired that by the time the baby sleeps, that’s all I want to do too.”
“What are you saying?”
Crying wasn’t her thing, thank God. The pressure of impending tears was there though, and that was bad enough. “I’m happy for you, because I know how much joy your daughter is going to bring to your life. But this,” she motioned to the baby gear that filled every view of the room, “isn’t what I want for mine.”
“You keep surprising me.” No trace of smile or awe, like the other times he’d said those words. “I never took you for a hypocrite.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was okay for me to accept all the rules and limitations of dating a single mother, but you won’t even try making a go of things with a single dad.”
The tightness in her heart released, replaced by the thump of indignation. “You knew what you were getting into from the beginning. I was a single mother when we met. I was a single mother when you asked me out. I tried to warn you off, Sam. Repeatedly.”
“Well, I’m not warning you off. I’m crazy about you, Leigh. I want you in. All in. And not because I need help. I can get that from my family. I want to do this with you. I want to do everything with you.” It sounded like commitment talk. More than what they already shared.
One way or the other, her next words would change their relationship forever.
“I understand if you need time to think.” He’d given her a reprieve.
Taking it would only be a stay of execution. “Time to think won’t change the plan I’ve made.”
“A plan isn’t written in stone. Hell, even if it was, stone can be broken.”
“But I don’t want to break it.”
He stared at her for what seemed like eternity. Only the sound of a newborn crying somewhere in the house broke his intense, unyielding gaze.
“You should go see what she needs. I’ll let myself out.”
“So, that’s it? We’re done?”
She nodded. “For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, if you’re still into older women ten years from now, come find me.” An answer contrived to push him away, where she needed him to be.
Except, it didn’t. The anger or irritation she’d expected to see in his eyes—hoped to see, because it would make this easier—didn’t materialize. Instead, he closed the space between them with one long-legged stride and cupped her face in his warm palms.
“I’m not ‘into older women,’ Leigh, I’m into you. You feel the same way about me. Don’t lie and tell me otherwise.”
God, the intimacy in his touch. The brutal, heartfelt honesty in his gaze. His words, filled with the promise of one three-word statement that would jackhammer through her set-in-stone plan, perhaps once and for all. Damn him.
“I won’t lie,” she whispered.
“Then stay with me. Whether it’s here and now, today, tomorrow, next week or next month. Tell me you’re going to stay.”
She’d never been a crier, yet two fat, warm tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” More tears escaped when he kissed her, softly and tenderly. As if he knew it would be their last kiss.
He stepped back then. Said nothing as she turned and walked away.
The silence was better than saying goodbye. Goodbye had a finality she didn’t want to consider yet. For now, she’d hang on to that tiny hope that he might come find her in ten years. The universe had sent Sam into her life twice already. Maybe it would again.
Chapter 11
LEIGH
The aroma of sugar enveloped Leigh as she returned from her trip to Bean There. Standing behind her bakery’s display case, she inhaled deeply. She’d always loved being immersed in the scent created by following her dream, just like she’d always loved the rewarding first sip of a midafternoon vanilla latté. Lately, neither had been hitting the sweet spot.
Sighing, she carried the nearly full takeout cup to the kitchen and poured it down the sink. No point in absorbing all those empty calories if they weren’t bringing her joy. She rinsed and disposed of the paper cup and made her way to the office, where she plopped into her swiveling chair. If her whiteboard had hands, it would be applauding her diligent adherence to the schedule. In fact, she was ahead of schedule. Had been the entire week.
She ought to be on her feet, dancing a victory dance, as she’d always done when her productivity peaked. She glanced down at her nonskid sneakers. Nope, they definitely didn’t feel like dancing.
Logically, she knew this lack of zeal was a normal phase. People pursuing their passion hit plateaus the same as everybody else. It had just never happened to her before.
Maybe she needed a new motivational tool. She looked at the empty space above the whiteboard. What could she put there? What would inspire her feet to get up and dance again? An uplifting picture? A positive, spunky phrase? Oh, maybe an achievement counter. Something she could update daily.
This ho-hum workplace has had ‘0’ lost-time minutes in the ‘10’ days since you broke up with Sam.
Ugh. Not the kind of counter she needed, even if it was true.
She turned her attention from the empty space and pulled up email on her computer. Orders continued to roll in daily. She must be doing a good job filling them, because her customers consistently oohed and aahed over the finished products. Emails with praise and appreciation arrived after every event where people had feasted on her creations. Yet, none of the accolades sparked the usual buzz. Nothing did.
Heck, even her vibrator
hadn’t been buzzing. Saying goodbye to Sam had done a number on her libido as well as her heart. Another phase to get through. She’d be fine.
Her body might be in a slump, but her phone did a little dance, vibrating on her desk as caller ID lit the screen. Focus Fitness.
The cell was in her hand and pressed against her cheek before her brain could veto the impulsive move. “Hi.”
“Hi, Leigh?” A male voice, but not the one she’d expected. Or hoped for. “It’s Brian from Focus Fitness.”
Of course. “Oh, Brian. Hi. Sorry, I’ve been meaning to call you. I totally understand that you’re canceling my club pass. I wasn’t planning to come back.”
“And I wasn’t calling to cancel your membership. I’m not that kind of guy and neither is Sam. You’re welcome at the club anytime.”
“Thanks, that’s very generous, but I think it’s best if I don’t intrude on Sam’s life since I’m no longer part of it. He’s got enough on his plate without having to see me. You can and should cancel the pass you gave me. I’ll cut up the card and send it back to you.”
“Don’t do that. Please don’t, I mean.” Silence hung between them for several beats, before what had to be an exasperated exhale filled her ear. “I’m a person who really values privacy, so I’m not sure how to butt into Sam’s and your business without sounding like a meddling asshole.”
“Then…don’t?”
He snorted. “Yeah, can’t take that advice. If Sam hadn’t stuck his nose into my relationship with Cassie when he did, I wouldn’t be engaged to the woman I’d die for. I owe him.”
“Then save the IOU and pay him back another time, when it’ll count.”
“It counts now, Leigh. For Sam, at least. And that’s enough for me.”
Her turn to sigh. “If I tell you something, are you going to run back and tell him what I said?”
“I probably won’t run. Brisk walk, maybe.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and it made her laugh. Something she very much needed to do. “You’re a good friend, Brian. I’m glad Sam has you in his life.” This was her opportunity to get information. If she didn’t take it, she likely wouldn’t get another. “How’s he doing, and—the baby, how is she?”
“Call him and find out.”
“I can’t do that.”
“A strong, independent woman like you can do whatever she wants. You’ve already proven that.”
“Then why are you suggesting I call him, when I already independently broke things off and walked away?”
“That’s what you wanted in the heat of the moment. And I don’t blame you, because that was some crazy-shocking news. Now that you’ve had time to process it, maybe you’ve reconsidered. Strong, independent people can change their minds about what they want. But sometimes pride gets in the way of admitting that. Believe me, I know of what I speak. If there’s a chance you want to make that call, but have been holding back, I’m hoping a friendly nudge might push you to make it.”
“So, you think I want him back, but I’m too proud to call him? Or is that what Sam thinks?”
“Hey, this conversation is all me. Sam knows nothing about it. Just like I knew nothing about his call to Cassie, back when we thought the obstacles between us were too big to get over.”
Yet another example of Sam’s goodness. His willingness—no, his nature—to jump in and help others.
God, she missed him.
“Still there?” Brian asked. “Or did you have enough of my shit and hang up?”
She laughed again. “I’m still here. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but Sam and I don’t have the kind of issues that can be sorted out so we can pick up where we left off and carry on, as if nothing has changed.”
“True. But you can pick up where you left off and take a different road together. Because of your daughter, you and Sam were already in a family vehicle. Now there’d be a car seat in the back as well. A big deal, yeah, but also not so different from where you were already. It just seems like something you can handle.”
“If I want to.”
“Right. All I’m suggesting is that you think about it some more. About whether the current road is really where you want to be. If it is, then it is. But, if you decide the longer drive with some crying along the way is worth the destination, give Sam a call.”
“Thanks for the talk,” she said, in lieu of a response that potentially leaned in any direction. “And thanks for being such a great friend to Sam.”
“Thanks for hearing me out. Hope we’ll see you at Focus soon.”
She ended the call rather than commit or decline. Holding the phone against her chest, she leaned back in her chair, only to have her gaze land on the empty space above her whiteboard. No imaginary lost-time counter popped into her mind this time. Nothing did. Inspiration had deserted her.
Everything she’d created in the last ten days had been a result of autopilot. She’d had passion before Sam, surely it would come back to her. Maybe it was the abruptness of their ending. The finality had been there, but not with satisfying closure.
They were both intelligent, reasonable adults. A sensible goodbye and good-luck conversation would probably do them both good. Help them close the box and shelve it, so they could move on to the next chapters of their respective lives.
That’s what she’d tell herself, anyway. The fact that she missed the sound of his voice had nothing to do with making this phone call.
“Hello,” he said, no familiarity lacing his tone. He could’ve been answering an unknown number. Maybe he was. Maybe he’d deleted her contact.
Maybe she should take it as a sign and hang up.
“Leigh, are you there, or is this a pocket dial?”
“I’m here.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, after several beats of awkward silence.
“That’s what I was wondering. If everything is okay with you. You and the baby.”
He responded with a half laugh, half grunt. “Do you want a short, polite answer, or the truth?”
“I thought you always gave me the whole, unfiltered truth.”
“I did, because we were together.”
Ouch. A well-deserved ouch. “I still want the truth from you. I always will.”
“Always implies there’ll be more conversations after this one.” Damn him, calling her out on her intentions.
A woeful cry filled the background from Sam’s side of the call.
“Already? Shit. Don’t hang up.” A clatter followed his command, probably as his cell connected with whatever hard surface he’d hurriedly placed it on. The next thing to come through the line was Sam’s voice, indirect and semi-distant, yet undeniably clear. “It’s okay, Daddy’s got you. Sshh…you’re okay. You can’t be hungry again already. You don’t feel wet.” A weary sigh mingled with the baby’s crying. “I wish you could tell me what’s wrong. Daddy needs you to sleep more than fifteen minutes at a time.”
On the edge of her office chair, Leigh pressed the phone tightly to her ear. She bit back the urge to call out to him with advice. Her opinions or words of encouragement had no place there. She’d seen to that.
“Are you gassy, is that it? Let’s try again for a burp.” Muffled noise filtered through the speaker, then the distinct sound of an infant belch. “That’s better. You’re okay.” The crying stopped, replaced by a sound that could only be kissing. “Daddy loves you so much. Go back to sleep, little angel.”
Regardless of what he said, Leigh had an honest answer to her question of how he and the baby were doing.
“Still there?” he asked, returning to the line a few minutes later.
“Yes.” She had so much to say. And no right to say any of it. “Sounds like you’ve got the hang of parenthood already.”
He laughed softly. “Thanks. It sure doesn’t feel that way.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for that feeling to change.”
“Damn. I was really hoping you’d tell me not to w
orry, that I’d feel like super dad any day now.”
“From what I just overheard, you’re well on your way to super dad status, whether you feel like it or not.”
A many-seconds-long yawn made its way through the line. “Sorry. Haven’t been getting much sleep. I’ve definitely achieved super tired dad status.”
“You’re staying at your parents’ house, correct?”
“Until my condo sells, yes. No point asking for an exception to the no-kids rule. Not with Fewster in the unit next door.”
No, she supposed not. That miserable woman probably didn’t have a compassionate bone in her body. Sam’s mother, on the other hand, had seemed warm and loving.
“What about your parents? I know you’re all really close. Have they been helping out with the—” Time she stopped referring to Sam’s baby as a generic human being. “With Sachi?”
“They’re not here.”
“Where are they?”
“Europe, for two more weeks. They were here when I brought Sachi home from the hospital, but they left the next day for an extended vacation. My mom offered to cancel it but I told her no. They’ve waited a long time for that trip. I was sure I could handle everything on my own, no problem.” He laughed. “I have since learned otherwise.”
“Oh, Sam,” she said, laughing with him.
After their shared chuckle ended, he exhaled, long and slow. “You were right.”
“About what?”
“About how different life is with a baby. About the huge amount of time and energy it takes. I thought you were exaggerating, but I understand now that you weren’t.” He yawned again, this one more drawn out than the first. “I need to get going, grab some sleep while I can.”
“Always a good idea with a newborn around.”
“It was good to talk to you.” His acquiescence, his at-peace-with-it tone, it all rang of closure.
The closure she thought she’d wanted. Now that she was staring that possibility in the face, saying goodbye to Sam in a permanent sense was not the road she wanted to take. “Hey, are you busy this weekend?”
He chuckled. “Every minute, yeah.”