by Fields, MJ
He shook his head slowly and sighed, as if he’d anticipated this kind of reaction. “That’s not fair. I did try. But then I got interrupted by Mother Nature.”
“That’s my point, Bryce!” I exclaimed, trying and failing to temper my frustration with the situation. “You tried yesterday. What about the other times you saw me before that? You had every opportunity to tell me!”
“What exactly should I have said? ‘Hey, it’s so great to see you again, El. By the way, I have a child.’”
The sarcasm in his voice pushed my frustration to new heights. “Yes! No. I don’t know. I just…this is a lot. It’s a big deal, Bryce.” I shifted in my seat, my eyes bouncing around the room in an effort to avoid Bryce’s gaze.
By the time I forced my attention back to the man across from me, his clenched jaw and crossed arms told me I wasn’t the only one exasperated with this conversation. “This, Elliot.” He uncrossed his arms to gesture the space between us. “This is why I didn’t tell you sooner. Because I knew you would use her as an excuse to put some distance between us. To put the brakes on before anything even happened.”
“What? No. That’s…not true,” I argued, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
“No?” he asked, brows raised in disbelief. “Can you honestly say you’d be here right now if I had told you about Peyton earlier? That you’d let yourself see me as anything but a friend?”
“You don’t get it, Bryce. I’m not…” I shook my head, swallowing the rest of my sentence.
He reached across the table and pulled my hands into his. “I do get it, El.” Squeeze. I met his eyes and found nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “Look, I told you we’d take things slow. That hasn’t changed. Day by day, yeah?”
I nodded, but before I could verbalize a response, my phone vibrated again. Through the entire conversation my phone had vibrated with incoming calls several more times, but each time I’d muted it to focus solely on Bryce. It was probably the seventh time Sophia or Milo had called, so I knew something was up.
“Something’s not right. I need to take this,” I said, pushing up from my seat. I didn’t wait for Bryce’s response before walking away and swiping to answer Milo’s call. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I know you’re on a date, and I’m sorry to do this, but you need to get home. Soph is freaking out. I think…El, I think she found your mom.”
The second Milo’s words registered, my heart rate skyrocketed and my brain conjured the last memory I had of living with Helen.
“Shh, Sophia. You have to keep quiet,” I whispered, patting my sister’s back while she cried. “Or Mommy will get mad.”
She cried harder.
I heard laughing from Mommy’s room, so I didn’t think they were asleep, but Mommy always got real mad when we made noise while she had friends over.
“Elliot! Shut her up,” Mommy yelled from her room.
I felt around in the dark, trying to find Sophia’s pacifier, but it must have fallen off the couch. I needed to find it before Mommy or her friend got up. We’d be in big trouble. I got up and looked around on the floor, but I wasn’t fast enough.
Mommy’s door opened, and I jumped up, turning to face her. Light from her room made it easy to see the pacifier right by her door.
“I’m sorry, Mommy! I couldn’t find—"
“You can’t even do one thing right! I should’ve known you’d be nothing but a screw-up.” She grabbed the pacifier off the floor and shoved it into Sophia’s mouth.
I froze, too scared to ask what that meant.
She looked at me and laughed. “That means you’ll grow up and be just like me one day.”
“Elliot? Did you hear me?” Milo’s voice snapped me out of the memory and brought me back to the present.
“I’m on my way.”
Eleven
Bryce
They say sometimes dads who are expecting a baby don’t feel like parents until their child is born. In my case, I’ll never know if that would’ve held true or if I would’ve immediately felt connected to my baby when she was barely the size of a pea. In spite of the shock, the confusion, the thousands of questions I had about it all, the second I held Peyton in my arms I knew my life would never be the same. I knew I’d never find another love as pure as what I felt for her.
I was in no position to become a parent—after things ended with Bridgette, I reverted back to the workaholic I’d been before letting her disrupt my life. And I was fine with that. I dated casually, but was in the process of climbing the proverbial ladder at work, and I made that my priority. I lived in a one-bedroom high-rise condo, and loved being centrally-located. My co-workers were my only friends, and even those relationships were mostly superficial. Nothing about my life screamed, “I’m ready to be a dad!”
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 prompted, 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.
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.