One Chance

by Best, Victoria J.

  I was certain the baby was a girl.

  I hadn’t spoken to Henry since that day in the hospital, the day that had given me some closure and clarity. The urge to reach out to him hit me from time to time, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I was guarding my heart, protecting myself from more heartache. But I had believed him when he said he was sorry.

  I trusted him even though he hadn’t trusted me.

  That was probably the hardest part.

  “Okay, baby girl,” I said to my belly. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  I gave my tiny belly a pat, pushed off the door and went back to my room to get myself settled in. It was time to take my life back.

  * * *

  The next day, with butterflies in my belly like it was my first day, I walked into the office. Returning to work after being in the hospital for a few weeks was strange. Add to the fact that it was a psych admission, and I felt like everyone was judging me.

  “Nicolette! I’m so glad you’re back!” Rebecca, the assistant for the marketing department ran up and hugged me as I walked through the glass doors to our wing. She let me go quickly, stepping back to look at me. “You look great!”

  It was painfully obvious that she knew the details of my hospitalization. I hid a cringe as she patted my shoulder and went back behind her desk.

  “Thanks,” I said with a tight smile and walked away before she could ask me any questions.

  I was ready to close myself up in my office and get to work. The need to avoid people today was growing by the moment, especially after Rebecca’s welcome. I hurried into my office, closed the door, and leaned back against it with a sigh. Maybe it had been a mistake to come back so soon?

  No, I needed to get back to normal.

  The sooner the better.

  After hanging my bag and jacket on the hooks by the door, I went to my desk, sat down and turned on my computer. Seconds later, a soft knock sounded on the door.

  Here we go.

  “Come in,” I called, clenching and unclenching my hands under the desk.

  Beatrice glided into the room, a wide smile on her face. She was wearing one of the many Chanel suit dresses she owned, her hair perfectly coifed in a chignon at the base of her neck, the ever-present pearls around her neck.

  “Nicolette, darling, I’m so glad you’re back. I told Angela that you didn’t have to come back so soon, but she said you insisted.” She sat on the chair in front of my desk, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap primly.

  I longed to have even half the poise and self-confidence that she had, and I watched her in awe she stared at me, waiting for a response.

  “I wanted to get back to work.”

  She raised one eyebrow, the expression so like one I had seen on Henry’s face that it took my breath away for a moment. “Well, if you change your mind, we have stuff that you can do at home for a while.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” I wondered exactly how much she knew about my situation and if she had any idea that the baby I was carrying was Henry’s.

  Or maybe she didn’t know I was pregnant?

  Beatrice waved a hand at me. “If you insist,” she said, but made no move to get up.

  “Is there something else?” I wanted to be alone.

  “Well, I . . .” She gave me a serious look and began to finger the pearls at her neck. “I wanted to talk to you about a few things, if you don’t mind.”

  I did mind, only because I had become used to my own company in the last month and I needed some peace and quiet. Otherwise it didn’t matter to me what she wanted to talk about.

  Unless it was Henry.

  “I don’t mind,” I answered out of obligation.

  She clapped her hands together. “Fabulous. This won’t take long and then you can get back to work.”

  Beatrice folded her hands in her lap again, staring at me for a moment before she began to talk again. I waited, uncertain if this was a good idea or not, but didn’t make any move to egg her on.

  “It’s about Henry.”

  Dear God.

  “Beatrice, with all due respect—” I started but she held up a hand for me to stop.

  “I know he’s probably the last person you want to talk to or see or even hear about, but he’s my son, nonetheless. He’s not perfect, and as a matter of fact, he has many flaws. I take responsibility for some of them. A lot of them really. I failed him once he reached a certain age. I thought he would be okay if I gave him all that he could possibly want or need materially. But that just wasn’t the case. Jax was the easy child. By the time I took over caring for him after we lost my sister, he was well behaved, quiet and withdrawn. He did what I asked when I asked and never got into trouble. But my Henry, he was a different story.

  “Once Jax moved in, Henry began to act out. He was only five years old when we took Jax in, just a baby still. I took over my sister’s company. We ran it together, before, but I never had as much responsibility as I had after. The business was failing, the money going out faster than I could bring it in. Hank had to take over the finances, quitting his job on Wall Street to help me keep it afloat. It was a disaster for quite some time. I didn’t have a lot of time for the children. Either of them. I worried Jax would have trouble adjusting because he’d lost his mother, so I put him in counseling. But my Henry was the one with the trouble. He was getting into trouble at school—fights, suspensions—and as he got older it only got worse. I sent him to boarding school for a few years but he got kicked out. I paid for the best private school in the city to get him into shape and, by the skin of his teeth, he made it into college.”

  Beatrice paused again, taking a deep, shaky breath and cleared her throat. I could tell she had tears in her eyes but was fighting them back.

  “Anyway, as the business grew and prospered, Henry was forgotten. At least, that was how he felt. I could tell. Jax graduated high school and immediately came into the business with me. He’d always had an interest in his mother’s legacy, and I encouraged it. But Henry wanted to make his own way, wanted nothing to do with the Radcliffe name. He resented me for giving it to him but refused to change it.”

  She fidgeted with her pearls. “After college, he came home a different person, one I didn’t recognize. He was drinking, partying, refusing to get a job. I finally made him work for me so he wouldn’t be just another deadbeat rich kid. I worried about him every day, but Hank told me he would be okay, in time. I wanted to believe him, so I left Henry to his own devices, as I always had. I’ll always regret those years I’d lost with him while the company was still young. I’ll always wish I could have done better by him than I have. But I can’t go back in time, I can only move forward.”

  She stopped talking again, glanced down at her lap, and looked up at me again with unshed tears gleaming in her eyes.

  “I’m telling you all of this because I feel the need to apologize for what Henry did. It’s my fault he wasn’t able to trust you because he could never trust me or his father, or even himself most of the time. For the last few years, I’ve been trying to make up for what I broke. We’ve tried therapy, together and separate, but I fear I waited too long. Nicolette, I know he came to see you in the hospital. I don’t know what was said, or not said, but I do know that if Henry bared his heart to you, it was genuine. Henry doesn’t love easily or show it because I never gave him the outlet to do so. If he loves you, and tried to tell you he does, then he loves you.”

  Beatrice finally stopped talking, stood up, and smoothed her skirt. Tears clouded my vision, making it hard for me to see her. I looked down, a fat tear plopping onto the front of my dress. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell her that it was too little too late. Not only had Henry ruined the trust that I thought we were building, but I’d ruined any chance I had of getting him back by never telling him that I loved him that day in the hospital.

  Too much had happened.

  Too much time had passed.

  “I know about the baby, an
d what he said to you. He told me all of it. That day after the hospital, he came to me and we talked. He still loves you, Nicolette. I see it on his face every time someone mentions your name.” Beatrice turned and opened the door. Just as she started to step out, I hopped up from my chair, finding my voice.

  “I’m afraid it’s too late,” I said through a teary haze.

  She pivoted back to me, a sad smile on her face. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from this, it’s that it’s never too late to tell someone you love them. You can’t make up for lost time, but you can create something new. Something better. That’s what Henry and I are trying to do.” She exited my office, closing the door with a soft click.

  I sat back down at my desk, uncertainty making the tears fall harder. I thought I knew what to do about Henry. I thought I had made up my mind, but Beatrice had turned all of that on its head. The truth was that I had believed Henry that day when he came to see me in the hospital, but I was too stubborn and angry to do anything about it.

  And now I wasn’t sure if I’d let my anger get in the way of forgiveness, or if there wasn’t any forgiveness left.

  I was inclined to think it was the former.

  I pressed a hand against my miniature bump, trying to feel the baby that connected me with the one and only man I had ever loved, asking her silently if I should go to Henry and make it right.

  Or was it really too late?

  Chapter 41

  Henry

  I was taking a personal day. It was the first time I had taken off since starting this new job. It was laughable because since I’d woken up this morning, Walters had called me a least a dozen times to remind me about meetings and deadlines I already knew about, texted and emailed me forms and other information that wasn’t needed until the following week, and had his assistant call me twice to tell me not to forget his dry cleaning the following day.

  All in all, it was the worst personal day in history.

  The thing was, I hadn’t taken the personal day for anything specific. I’d taken it because I knew Nicolette had been released from the hospital a few days before and I needed some time to wallow.

  Wallowing was my new pastime.

  My phone rang again, and I blew out an irritated breath. Walters needed a life beyond irritating me every half hour.

  “Yes?” I snapped into the phone. Gone was my ability to be amicable for the sake of the job.

  “Rogers, there’s a woman here to see you. I told her you weren’t in today, but she insisted. I think she thought I was lying. I told her I would call you and let her see for herself that you weren’t in.”

  A woman?

  “Put her on, sir. I have no idea who it could be.”

  My mother?

  “Henry?” a voice, one I hadn’t heard in weeks, came over the line.

  I was speechless for a moment, unable to answer or even breathe.

  “Henry, are you there?”

  “Nicolette? What are you doing at my office?” I jumped up from the couch, propelled by confusion and surprise.

  “I, uh, came to see you, but Mr. Walters said that you weren’t here. I didn’t believe him,” she added, sounding sheepish.

  “I’m at home,” I said for lack of anything else to say.

  “Oh, okay. I’m going to come over. I have to talk to you.”

  “Okay . . .” I let the word fade out, sitting back down on the couch.

  Nicolette hung up but I still held the phone to my ear.

  What did she want to talk about?

  Was everything okay with the baby?

  Agitation suddenly made me jump back up again. I gazed around my apartment. It was cluttered with packed boxes, waiting for my move next week. I had finally found a place downtown that I could afford on my own. My mother hadn’t been happy about it, but she understood that I wanted to do it on my own.

  Now, all I could see was the mess that Nicolette was about to walk into. Frantically, I began to stack the boxes, shoving things in and aside so it looked more organized. It wasn’t of much use, considering I was moving that weekend and my whole life was already boxed up.

  I shook my head. It didn’t matter anyway. Nicolette had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to be with me, would never forgive me, and that I should leave her alone for good after that day in the hospital. Straightening up my disheveled apartment wasn’t going to change her mind. I suddenly wondered if maybe she was coming over to discuss custody of the baby.

  That made the most sense.

  I paced the living room for the next twenty minutes as I waited for her to arrive, jumping when the buzzer sounded from downstairs. Without saying a word, I let her up, standing behind the door like a dog waiting on its returning owner.

  I was pretty pathetic.

  Her soft knock at the door made my heart race and my palms sweat. I wiped my hands on my pants, taking a deep breath as I pulled the door open.

  “Hey,” I said feebly.

  “Hi, Henry,” she said, her blue eyes the color of the early April sky.

  It was like I had forgotten how beautiful she was since I’d last seen her. Her face had filled out a little, in a way that gave her skin a healthy glow. I wasn’t able to stop looking at her, and we stood there for several minutes.

  “Can I come in?”

  I nodded, not trusting my own voice. She sashayed into the room, the empire-waisted floral dress she wore swishing around her. I caught a whiff of her scent, the one I remembered, the one that haunted me at the worst moments, as she passed me. My stomach clenched. How was I going to be able to be around her and not touch her or hold her any longer?

  The idea made something deep inside of me ache.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I gestured towards her stomach, which was just beginning to poke out through the dress.

  She nodded, placing a hand protectively on her abdomen. “The baby is fine.”

  I clenched my fists against the urge to place my hand on top of hers.

  “Is this about child support?” I wanted to find out exactly what it was that she wanted and get her out of here. One more second of her presence and my resolve would snap.

  I was on the verge of making a complete fool of myself.

  “What?” She frowned. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  It was my turn to be confused. “About what?”

  Nicolette took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. She motioned towards the living room. “Can we sit down?”

  I nodded again. She followed me into the living room, the sea of boxes making their presence known the moment we crossed over the threshold.

  “Oh, are you moving?” Her eyes went wide.

  “Yeah. This weekend. I’m moving downtown.”

  With a nod of acknowledgment, she perched on the edge of the couch. I sat down on the other end, far away from her.

  “This is really hard for me,” she began, twisting the hem of her dress in her hands.

  “What is? What is this about, Nicolette?” Truthfully, I was happy just to be in a room with her again, to see her face, to hear her voice as she said my name. But I knew it was only fleeting. That it wouldn’t last because I’d made too much of a mess of things.

  And that was the thing that twisted the knife deeper into the already gaping wound.

  She looked down at her hands as they worried the hem of the skirt. “I, well, I wanted to apologize to you, for the way I dismissed you that day when you came to talk to me. I was angry and being stubborn and I wanted you to hurt the way that I hurt.”

  “Huh? You’re apologizing to me?” I shook my head. “I should be apologizing to you for the rest of our lives for what I did. The way you treated me in the hospital was what I deserved. I had it coming for what I did to you.”

  Nicolette looked up at me then, her eyes meeting mine, an unidentifiable emotion swimming in them. “I should have told you then that I loved you, too. I shouldn’t have let them drag you away fr
om me. I should have forgiven you.”

  “What?” I had to have heard her wrong.

  “I loved you, Henry. In fact, I still love you. I haven’t stopped.” Moisture swam in her eyes as she stared at me.

  “Why? After all that I put you through, all that I did to you. Why do you still love me?” I said the words like a plea, trying to understand how someone like her could possibly love someone like me. Even after all that I had done.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve always been honest with me, even when I didn’t want to hear it. You’re selfless. You gave up a month of your freedom to help me get my dream job. You pushed me to take care of myself when all I ever did was take care of everyone else. Henry, you’re so much more than you believe you are.”

  I shook my head, unable to grasp what she was saying. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. After what I did—”

  She placed her hand on my arm. “I should have been honest with you from the start. I should have told you about the baby as soon as I found out. I thought I was protecting you, but I was really protecting myself. I was so worried I would lose you if I told you that I’d ruined everything. Yes, you said some awful things to me that night, and you didn’t trust me, the one thing I asked of you, but I’m not blameless in this. I shouldn’t have kept such a big secret from you.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments. I took in the words she said, and she let me absorb them.

  “What does this mean, Nicolette? What are you trying to tell me?”

  I would accept her apology if it made her feel better. But I wasn’t sure if we could go back to being friends or anything of the sort. I would co-parent with her for the baby’s sake, but being in a room with her was painful enough without having to watch her move on without me.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, not even for a moment.” She bit the corner of her bottom lip before she continued. “Your mother came to see me today, she told me that we can’t change the past, but we can move forward and build something new. Something better. That’s what I want, Henry. I want to build something better with you.”