Who can blame her? She hasn’t done any exploring yet—really lived.
“I see. Any chance I can change your mind? I mean, after you graduate, of course. This wasn’t a simple for old times’ sake thing for me, Andi.”
She pinches that little place at the top of her nose. “I … it wasn’t for me either, Chase, but I can’t just run off to Italy either.”
“Will you think about it at least? Maybe when you’re finished with school?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“We better get back before someone finds us half-naked.”
She lets out an uncomfortable sounding laugh. The moment—the amazing moment we shared—is gone. Evaporated, like morning fog.
We get dressed and walk toward the house together, but I can’t let these be our last words.
“Andi, I just want you to know that this meant something to me. You’ve always meant something … everything to me. You … if you change your mind, please call me. I’ll be there for you. We can make a great life together. I know we can. I feel it in here.” I pound a fist to my heart.
She squeezes my hand.
As the two of us walk hand in hand back to the house, a big part of me wishes I had stayed here and not gone to Italy. Andi means more to me than anything. If only there was a way to persuade her to join me when she graduates. I won’t give up until I’m in the car heading to the airport.
Three
Andi—Present Day
When the alarms blare, I move into swift action. Carefully, I use the armholes to reach my patient. With delicate hands, I stroke the baby’s chest, and just like that, he remembers to breathe again. I sigh as the alarms go silent without any more help from me.
The charge nurse pops her head in. “You need any help?”
After glancing over my shoulder, I shake my head. “We’ve got this.” Looking down at my patient, I say, “Don’t we?”
Of course, he can’t answer. Not yet, anyway. About the size of my palm, he’s too small to be outside of the womb. I will do everything in my power to see he survives.
Peggy walks in. “You’re putting your heart on the line with this one.”
I glance again at the tiny person struggling to stay alive.
“He’s going to make it.”
The demand falls on deaf ears. He’s here because of his mother’s choices.
“She hasn’t come in, has she?” Peggy asks.
I shake my head. “She’s fifteen and scared.” I close my eyes as I exhale.
“I hear she’s given up custody.”
I purse my lips. “She lives on the street. No way to raise a child.”
“True,” my boss says. “But who’s raising her?” She waves off any reply from me. “Anyway, expect a social worker to come sometime today.”
She leaves me alone and I can’t help but think of my own mother. Not the wonderful woman who raised me, but the one who gave me up. I have to be a shit for craving to learn her identity when my mother gave me everything I could ever need—love, family, and the tools to be successful in life. Yet, it’s like a hole exists somewhere in my heart.
To carve away at the ache, I do more than my duty as I take care of the tiny infant. I give him the physical contact that’s shown to help babies thrive through touch, words, and even a song I hum.
By lunchtime, I’m starving. With only thirty minutes, I scarf down food as my friend, Beth, fills me in on the latest gossip.
“Five o’clock.” She subtly points. “Dr. McDreamy.”
I glance up in time to see said hot doctor all the nurses swoon over.
“First of all, he looks nothing like that actor. His hair is blond and he’s a lot taller,” I point out.
“And he’s perfect.”
“And married.”
She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I would so have his babies.”
“Doesn’t he have like eight of them already?” I tease.
Though eight is an overstatement, it’s not by much.
“Is eight really enough?” She speaks like her head is in the clouds. “He’s so nice. I swear, they broke the mold when they made him.”
“You realize you have no chance. Have you seen his wife? She’s gorgeous.”
“With a body that couldn’t have had one child, let alone all those kids.” Although her words seem filled with jealousy, there isn’t any malice in them. She smiles to herself. “Then again, I’d let him mount and ride me every night of the week. I’d stay pregnant.”
“That’s why they have so many kids,” I concur.
“And when I wasn’t, I’d maintain my figure knowing there were several women waiting in the wings to take my place.”
“Exactly. But I’ve never seen him look at anyone like he looks at her.”
Beth exhales. “So unfair. I swear.”
“Set your eyes on someone else.”
As if his ears were burning, a different doctor hottie walks over. “Ladies.”
Beth moons at him with big eyes. “Joshua.”
His focus connects with me. “Andi, how are things in the NICU?”
“Busy.”
“Too busy to say—”
I stop him before he can ask. I can’t be completely sure he’s about to ask me out, but shut it down anyway.
“You know, I have to get back or Peggy’s going to be all over my shit.” I take my tray and head to the door with a wave.
Joshua doesn’t totally give up and calls after me. “The NICU is boring. You should join us in the ER.”
Half-turning, I continue my retreat. “I’ll leave all that fun to you and Beth.”
I wink at her and she gives me the biggest grin before flashing Joshua with it.
When I make it back to the neonatal unit, a girl way too young to be here stands before my tiny charge. I take the opportunity to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Andi.”
I hold out my hand. She turns slowly with eyes that haven’t seen enough years, but feel ancient.
“They’re kicking me out of this joint today. I thought I would say goodbye.”
She hasn’t introduced herself, but I know her to be the yet-to-be-named boy’s mother. Curiosity had me walking through the maternity ward on my way out yesterday in search of her.
“It’s better this way,” she says, though it’s obvious she’s trying to convince herself and not me.
“How do you know?”
Part of me wishes I’d said nothing. I shouldn’t be trying to convince her not to give her son a better home. Then again, I ask because I can’t ask my biological mom, whom I haven’t found yet.
Her eyes morph into steel. “I live on the streets, lady. That’s no life for him.”
I know this, but the abandoned child in me needs absolution.
“Where are your parents?”
Her face turns cynical. “You mean the woman who would have sold me for her next hit had I not run? I mean, if someone was going to get paid for my virginity, shouldn’t it have been me?”
A pain so deep has my eyes burning, but I know that if I cry, she’ll make like a scared rabbit and flee.
“There are places you can go that will help you.”
She laughs bitterly. “Yeah, where some foster dad can get touchy-feely. No thanks.”
Her feet shift and I hold up my hands. “Wait. At least write him a letter.”
“For what?” In her expression, there is a desperate hope that I have answers.
“So he knows why you gave him up.”
Her chuff is more cynicism that I can’t fix in the few minutes I’ll have with her. “He’ll get that I couldn’t take care of him. Why else would I give my kid up? I wish my mother had given me up.”
She wipes tears from her face with the back of her hand as I swallow the bitter pill of her words.
“It’s better if he hears it from you.”
“Who’s to say his new parents will give him the letter?”
I shrug. “They may not. But when he co
mes looking for you—”
“I’ll be dead.” There’s such a fierceness in her eyes, it’s easy to see she believes it.
“When he finds you,” I begin again, “you can say with a clear conscience that you wrote him explaining why you did what you did out of love.”
For a second, hope flashes in her eyes as they search mine. Her lip trembles and her voice is a mere whisper. “I don’t have any paper.”
As much as I don’t want to leave her for fear she’ll run, I nod and go out to the desk. When I come back, she’s facing the incubator with one hand on it as she peers down at her son.
“You can touch him.” She shakes her head and I ask a different question. “What’s his name?”
She doesn’t look back at me when she speaks. “I didn’t want to give him one. You know, so his parents could name him. But they said I had to fill out the birth certificate.” I wait and say nothing. Time is like a gift. I wish I could give them both. “I named him Liam, like his dad.”
“Where is he?” It’s a risk to ask, but I feel some sort of responsibility for both children before me, the mother and the son who equally have no one but me at the moment.
Guilt meets me eye to eye. “He got locked up trying to get me something to eat.”
And my heart cries for the child’s mother and the pain that fills her eyes.
I don’t push anymore, saying nothing, and watch her write for a long time filling the page with her truths. It’s like I can physically see the burden lifting from her with each stroke of the pen. When she hands the paper back to me, I trade her. I give her cash, all that I have in my pocket, and a number for a teen shelter. Her tears are painful until we are both crying. By the time she leaves, she promises to use them both wisely, but we both know better. I keep hope when I watch her walk away and wonder if I’ve done enough.
When the social worker arrives, I explain my visit and hand her the letter. I can only pray it doesn’t get lost. Maybe one orphaned child won’t wonder why his mother left him.
My heart is heavy when I make it home later. I lie sleepless with the glow of the lamp next to my bed and run an envelope around and around in my hand. Inside it contains words I wrote so long ago. I remember each and every one as though I’d only penned them today. All it needs is a stamp and I can confess all my secrets, like how I really feel about the only man I’ve ever loved and what I’ve been doing all this time without him.
I’d been strong enough to do it two nights ago after sharing a bottle of wine with my neighbor. But then scrolling through the channels, a flash of Chase’s picture had me stopping and turning up the volume. He hadn’t been alone in the shot. A woman, beautiful like a supermodel, stood next to him. The headline—Chase Wilde Engaged to Be Married—was beneath the picture.
Tears fall from my eyes as I shove the letter back into the drawer. The strength I need doesn’t return. Though I wonder for the millionth time if I did the right thing by walking away so long ago and not contacting him. I can’t selfishly change the course of his life. I love him enough to want him to be happy. I loved him that much when I let him go. Deep down I know I could have gone to Italy with him when he asked. I’d chosen not to. At the time, I thought what I wanted was independence from my family and a degree that could lead me to a career of my own. Who am I to selfishly want him back when I had blown my chance? How could I spring my carefully written words on him almost three years too late?
Four
Chase
It’s New Year’s Eve when I leave my cousin Riley’s place to find Andi. I don’t tell anyone where I’m headed. It may be a little awkward. None of my family knows Andi and I ever had a thing, and since Riley dates Mark, Andi’s brother, it could get a bit sticky. It’s better to keep it under wraps unless something develops between us. For all I know, Andi will tell me to go to hell. At this point, I just have to know, one way or another.
How many letters have I written her—a dozen or more?—only to be tossed in the trash because she could have moved on. And the burning question I’ve asked myself over and over still haunts me—why did I ever walk away in the first place?
All the flights are booked so I end up having to charter a plane. It doesn’t matter. I am ready for this unbearable wait to finally end. At this point, I would fucking walk to Chicago if I had to, but it would take too long and I don’t have the time right now.
Luckily enough, a friend of mine was able to book me an Airbnb. It’s in the vicinity of Andi’s apartment so it will be more convenient and comfortable than staying in a hotel room. When my flight lands, the car service I hired is waiting. It’s almost ten at night so I have the driver take me somewhere to grab a carryout for dinner on the way to the rental. By the time I make it inside, I collapse on the couch because it’s now eleven p.m.
I’m polishing off my sandwich and channel surfing when my phone rings. When I check to see who it is, I do a double take. What the hell is Lucia doing calling me at this hour? It’s eleven here, which means it’s five a.m. in Italy.
“Hello?”
“Ciao, Chase.”
The last person I want to talk to. “Lucia, why are you calling me?”
“Sei l’amore della mia vita.”
“English, please. I’m too exhausted to think in Italian.”
“I love you, Chase. I missed you and wanted to hear your voice.”
“Lucia. We’ve been through this. You and I have never been a we.”
“Ah, but I know you could not mean that. Voglio stare con te per sempre.”
“There is no forever for us. You knew that from the start.” My frustration rockets to an all-time high and I’m barely controlling my temper. When is she going to understand?
“Promise you won’t be angry with me. I hate when you are angry with me.”
“What’s going on?” My tone carries a warning note. “I’m already angry and will be more so if you don’t tell me.”
“The lady with the camera. She saw me and I told her …” As she speaks, her accent grows heavier and heavier until the only thing I can gather is something about a fiancé.
“Let me get this right. You told someone that we are engaged?”
“Si. She asked me about my ring and I explained, ‘È il mio fidanzato.’”
“I never gave you a ring, Lucia.”
“But, Chase, I was wearing one and she asked me. What could I say?”
“You could’ve told her the truth, dammit.”
This is just great. She told the damn paparazzi I was her fiancé. Wonderful. Now the world thinks we are going to be married because of a ring I never bought for her. I’ll be the asshole tomorrow when the world finds out she was jilted only one day later. I did nothing wrong except mess around with a lunatic.
It takes to the count of ten until I can speak. She keeps calling out my name, but I don’t respond. Then finally I say, “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to call my agent, Max. I will explain exactly what you did. He’ll be in touch. And then you will retract what you said. We are done, Lucia. Finished. Don’t call anymore. If you do, don’t expect me to answer.”
I tap end and stare blankly at the TV screen. I made it plain from the beginning that there would never be anything permanent between us. How did I end up with that mess of a woman? She’s beautiful—a fashion model who can have any man she chooses. But for whatever reason, she only wants me, and I don’t want her. I don’t know how else to explain that to her. She refuses to let go.
Poor Max. He’s going to have to deal with the fallout of this. I shoot him a text and quickly explain. I end it with a, “don’t call me until at least nine a.m. my time.”
I flop into bed and try to get some sleep. Try. I lie awake and think of what Lucia did. That shit will be all over the tabloids by now. Football in Europe is huge, and so is Lucia. Christ. I throw off the covers and hunt down my phone. Scanning the internet, I find it’s already on the major Italian news networks. Her little video saying how thrilled and e
xcited she is, flashing her stupid ring, and then a picture of me on the football field pops up. It’s the one where I scored a goal in the World Cup. Fuck my life. I text Max back, amending what I said earlier, telling him he can call me anytime. I won’t be sleeping much tonight. Then I throw my phone. Why the hell did I ever get involved with her in the first place?
In the morning, Max calls and he has a plan established. He’s going to have her retract what she said. If she doesn’t do it, he’ll make her sound like a stalker, which could damage her career. At that point, I will make a statement saying that our relationship ended over a month ago, when we parted ways, and it’s unfortunate Ms. Mazzanti remains under the delusion we are still together, even though I have urged her to seek professional counseling.
“You’re sure this will work?”
“Chase, if I read this to you, wouldn’t you retract your statement?”
“Yes! But, Max, she is delusional!”
“Don’t worry. I will pay her a visit, with a witness of course, and persuade her to do what we ask.”
When we end the call, I’m still uncertain she’ll do it. I won’t be satisfied until I see her statement. Damn, a thought just plows into me. I grab my phone and pull up TMZ, just to make sure that shit hasn’t hit over here too. And fuck if it hasn’t. What if Andi has seen it? What will she think? Probably that I’m a fucking asshole. If Lucia does the retraction tomorrow, maybe she’ll change her mind. But I can’t worry about that. Hopefully, Andi will give me a chance to explain things and I can make it right. That’s a huge if right now.
Andi … being this close to her makes me want to charge over to her apartment, tear down her door, and … and do what? What exactly would I say? I’ve come all this way and I need a strategy, a game plan. I can’t just show up out of the blue and not know what words will pop out of my mouth. It’s been too many years and so much has happened to both of us for that. I have to come up with the right things … show her what’s in my heart. And it can’t sound whiny, but dammit, I will beg if I have to. This is something I’ve thought about for years. And it all goes back to that afternoon in the barn … the last time we were together. I should’ve stayed or figured out a way to make it work between us. Long-distance relationships are difficult, but not always impossible. We could’ve done it. I would’ve done it. I’m still in love with her after all these years and if that doesn’t say something, I don’t know what does.
Worth Every Risk Page 3