by K. L. Kreig
“Why? It’s a pretty bracelet,” I challenge tritely. Yep, that was a low blow, but I couldn’t hold in the biting words.
Breathing deep, she clams up and looks away. We sit there for close to a minute in silence. I don’t think I’ll get an answer when Hazel’s small voice pipes up. My lungs seize at her answer, and a little of the resentment I’ve held on to disintegrates.
“It was a gift to her from my daddy. It’s special and she doesn’t want it broken on accident.”
Nora’s newfound interest in her nails keeps her eyes from mine. Before I can ask Hazel any questions about where her daddy is, a woman dressed in scrubs is calling us back. She’s holding a clipboard and greets us cordially, ushering us all in the back where they quickly, but very efficiently validate our documentation. Gathering our individual samples, they place them in tamper-resistant secure packaging right in front of us. The whole thing takes us all less than fifteen minutes.
Looking like just a regular family, we walk together to the exit. I hold the door open for Hazel and Nora, who barely spares me a glance. Hazel’s talking a mile a minute about ladybugs and how they are beetles, not insects, and how not all ladybugs have spots and how they come in lots of different colors and how her mommy nicknamed her Ladybird because her mommy was nicknamed Ladybug. I’m not sure yet how I feel about the last part. I only know I’m not ready to examine it yet.
“What are you doing?” Nora asks coming to a stop as we walk across the parking lot.
“Walking you girls to your car. Can never be too careful,” I grab on to her elbow, pulling her forward, making sure she’s beside me before I reluctantly let go.
“Hey, Connelly,” Hazel sings while skipping just ahead of us. “My mommy isn’t married and doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Hazel Mirari,” Nora spits. I start to laugh. She’s clearly trying to set her mom and me up on a date. I inanely wonder how many times she’s done this before. And if it’s worked. My laughter dies.
“What?” She turns back toward us and shrugs. “It’s true.”
“Well, we don’t need to broadcast it to the world,” Nora grits as we reach her red Focus.
“I’m not, Mommy. I’m just broadcasting it to Connelly,” she replies innocently.
“Oh my God,” Nora mutters under her breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” When I open Hazel’s door for her, I’m rewarded with a beaming grin. I am enthralled by every smile, each word.
“Thanks,” she says politely. I wait until I’m sure she’s inside and right before I shut the door, Hazel tells me, “Did you know that my middle name means miracle?”
I catch Nora rolling her eyes before opening her own door. I crouch down so we’re eye level. “No, I did not. It’s a really pretty name, just like Hazel.”
“Mommy said I’m her miracle because I almost—”
“Okay, Zel, that’s enough oversharing. I’m sure Connelly has to get back to work or something.”
“No.” I grin. “I really don’t.”
“See, he doesn’t,” she tells Nora smugly. Turning her attention to me, she asks, “Did you want to come over for dinner?”
“Oh my God. Hazel. Stop.” Nora raises her voice, which I guess to Hazel means business, because she goes silent and sulks in the seat of the car with her arms crossed.
I want to say yes, if for no other reason than to spend time with my daughter. Learn new tidbits about Nora she’s so willing to share. But I also know I’m not quite ready to spend that much time with Nora acting like a family that hasn’t been torn apart by her machinations. “Ah, I can’t tonight, Hazel. But some other time, okay?”
That perks her right back up. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” I look to Nora. She’s watching our interchange intently. I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. Having no idea whether Nora has told Hazel she works for me, I don’t mention it, leaving them with a vague, “I’ll see you both around.”
I stand and reluctantly shut the car door, sealing them inside together, while I’m on the outer fringe once again. I step out of the way, watching them back out and drive away. I’m so lost in thought I almost miss Hazel excitedly waving at me through the window. I wave back.
When they’re out of sight, I walk slowly to my car replaying every piece of information Hazel gave me over the last few minutes, wondering what she was about to say when Nora cut her off. It’s only after I shut myself inside my own hunk of steel that I realize I’m smiling. That I’m already a planning a life I’m not sure is mine yet for the taking.
My smile drops in a hot second. Once again, hurt and bitterness take up residence inside me, but this time, it feels ever so slightly less burdensome. I think I even feel my well fill up with a few trickles of absolution.
It may not be a lot, but something’s better than nothing.
Chapter 25
Nora
“Thank you, Mr. Gamby. We’ll be in touch.”
I hang up from my fifth phone interview today. I have three more and a late-day staff meeting. It’s not quite 2:30, yet I’m already exhausted.
Connie, my assistant, pops her head in. “Nora, Mr. Colloway would like to see you in his office.”
Irritation stirs. He all but ignores me and now he’s summoning me to his office through my admin? Well, he can damn well wait.
“I have an interview in five minutes. It will have to wait.”
Her eyes pop like she’s one of those squeeze dolls. And I’d just squeezed. “Uh, he said it doesn’t matter what’s on your calendar—you need to come now.”
I sigh heavily. What I’d like to do is send back my own message that he can’t just demand I drop every-fucking-thing whenever he wants, CEO or not, but I don’t. There’s no reason to get poor innocent Connie involved in our personal mess.
“I’ll need you to reschedule my interview with—”
“Taken care of. I’ve cleared your calendar for the rest of the day, per Mr. Colloway’s instructions.”
Clenching my jaw, I rise from my chair and make my way to the elevator, punching the button for the thirty-second floor so hard I break a nail. All too soon, I’m approaching his office. Lydia, his assistant, rises from her desk when she sees me.
“Hi, Nora. Go on in. He’s expecting you.” I search her face, replay the tone in her voice to see if I can get a feel for what I’m about to walk into. It’s blank.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Connelly’s door is shut. I stand there for a moment staring at the wood that separates us, realizing my heart is racing with trepidation. I feel a flush creeping up my neck and try to stop my pits from sweating. I’m not sure what I expect when I finally pluck the courage to turn the knob. It certainly isn’t what I find inside.
Connelly’s sitting at his round conference table—the same one he set lavishly with freezer crap. I shove that memory aside because he’s not alone. To his left is an older, pretty woman. She’s dressed in a sharp black business suit with conservative matching pumps. Her golden hair is pulled back severely in a bun. Fashionable thick black glasses complete her librarian ensemble.
Only I know she’s no librarian.
“Nora,” Connelly says crisply as he rises. Once again, he’s in complete control of his emotions, but I’m about to fucking lose it. This is a goddamned ambush and he had the audacity to do this at work. How completely irresponsible of him to air our dirty laundry here. “This is Cynthia McNamara. Cynthia, Nora Cantres.”
I barely spare a glance at the pristine woman, who is now also standing beside Connelly. I ignore her, not even bothering with pleasantries. A throat clearing to my right pulls my attention to a man I hadn’t noticed before.
“I need your signature, ma’am,” he says, thrusting a manila envelope into my hands before handing me a pen. Holding a clipboard, he points to a signature line. I have no idea what I’m signing, but I have to imagine it’s the results of the paternity test we took two days ago. I guess they were true to
their word about a quick turnaround.
After the courier leaves, Connelly waves for me to sit. I want to kick him in the nuts. Tell him to fuck off, but I need to pick my battles. Besides, I think maybe I’ll need to be seated when I hear whatever he has to tell me with his attorney present.
Nodding to the packet in my hand, he tells me quietly, “The results.” That’s when I see a matching one in his, which is still sealed. “I wanted to wait for you.”
While that should provide me some measure of comfort, it doesn’t. It incenses me. “But we needed an audience?”
Jaw tight, he replies, “I thought it best to have my attorney present to discuss next steps if the results were positive.”
Hurt, betrayal, loss, and despair would have brought me to the ground had I been standing. I hate the way I’m feeling inside. My emotions threaten to consume me whole. My eyes begin to water against my wishes.
After Connelly’s interaction with Hazel the other day, I saw a different side to him, even thought maybe I saw some threads of forgiveness in his eyes, in his tone, in the brief glances he gave me.
Guess I was wrong.
My lips turn up in a sneer. “Well, shame you didn’t afford me the same courtesy.”
“Nora,” he starts before I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just get this over with.”
Using my thumb, I slide it under the gum of the flap and pull out a single sheet of paper. I scan the page for the only data point that matters, finding it a quarter of the way down.
Probability of Paternity: >99.99%
I stare at that number until it blurs together into a giant blob. I feel such intense relief and happiness in that moment I let a sob escape. I always felt Hazel was Connelly’s, but to have it confirmed provides such a sense of rightness I hadn’t realized I needed until right then.
But then the direness of the situation slams back into me. My relief quickly morphs to undiluted rage and profound sadness.
Connelly hates me. He has every right to, I remind myself.
With unchecked tears rolling down my face, I lift my eyes to his and see pure joy. For just a split second that throws me off track, but then I steer myself back on the bumpy road.
His attorney starts talking. The only word I hear is “custody.”
Oh. Fuck. No.
“I won’t let you take her from me,” I put out there. My voice is hard, unyielding.
Lawyer girl opens her mouth to speak again when Connelly places his hand on her arm. She snaps it shut. I hear her stark white teeth clash and I secretly hope she chipped one.
“Take her from you?” he replies incredulously. “I don’t want to take her from you, Nora. I would never do that. You’re her mother. I only want my equal time with her.”
My anger deflates, leaving me with nothing inside but a deep ocean of bleak sadness that now falls in endless streams.
“I would have given that to you, Connelly. I would give you anything you asked for. I know you have no reason to think otherwise but I do want our daughter to know you. I know I was wrong to keep this from you. I was wrong to keep you from Hazel and her from you. I know that now.”
My eyes shift to Cynthia before landing back on him. I stand, clutching the results in my hand. “I understand the need to protect yourself legally. I do, but I don’t appreciate being ambushed at work and I sure as fuck don’t appreciate having an outside party be witness to such a private moment. You took something that should have been reserved for the two of us and you demeaned it by having her here.”
“Where are you going,” his loud voice booms as I make my way to the door.
“To secure my own legal counsel.” I pivot and he’s so close I almost run into him. Fucker. “You didn’t need to do this,” I say in a low, resigned voice.
“How was I supposed to know that?” he clips. “I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing here, Nora. My entire world has been shaken and stirred. My head hasn’t stopped spinning for nine fucking days.”
I shake my head, not knowing how to respond because mine has too. “I know it was foolish, but for Hazel’s sake, I’d rather hoped we could have figured that out together. I know now that’s not possible.”
When I turn back toward the door, this time, he lets me leave.
Chapter 26
Nora
The doorbell chimes melodically. It would be soothing under any other circumstance. Not today, though. Today it signals the second half of my atonement. Zel is practically vibrating with excitement as she runs to answer it. I, on the other hand, am shaking with anxiety. Nerves have twisted my insides until they hurt. I hope my daughter doesn’t hate me, too, after today.
After I left Connelly’s office the other day, I couldn’t breathe the same air as him. I ended up leaving work early for the day, something I never do. Sitting in the parking lot, I called Mira and cried. After she spent ten minutes graphically detailing how she was going to systematically cut off his balls slowly and painfully before starting on other important body parts, she made a few calls, getting me the name of a family law attorney. She’s female, she’s bloodthirsty, and she only takes on mothers as clients. I spent an hour late in the afternoon with Ms. Hilary Parks of Parks, Smith, and Woodford and sent her name and contact information to Connelly that night via text.
I didn’t expect to talk to Connelly directly again. I thought we’d impersonally communicate through e-mail and couriered letters from our respective legal representation, organize drop-off dates and times, and stay in our cars while Hazel shuffled between us. It sickened me this is where we seemed to be headed. It was an unhealthy relationship for all involved. One that would be hard for Zel to understand. She is such a loving, caring, and forgiving human being.
But he surprised me by stopping by my office the next morning, apologizing for how poorly he’d handled things. Again. It was a strained conversation, emotions still running high on both sides. We agreed that we’d table the attorneys for now. Try to work things out amicably. Ms. Parks very outspokenly disagreed—but my life, my decisions. I never wanted to involve her anyway. I just felt I had no choice.
So here we are. Three days later. It’s time to tell Hazel about Connelly being her father. We agreed to do it together. When I suggested it, he jumped all over it. I was grateful because I’m not sure I can do this alone.
I have no idea how Hazel will react. All I’ve told her about her father over the years when she’s asked is that sometimes fathers or mothers can’t be with us the way we want, but that I know her father loves her very much. I have never said one disparaging word to Hazel about Connelly. No matter what happens between us, I never will.
Voices draw closer to the kitchen. I take in a shaky breath, letting it out gradually.
“Mommy, Connelly’s here,” Hazel hums from behind me.
Drying my hands, I swivel from the sink to face them. I have to hang on to the counter behind me when our eyes connect. Hummingbird wings flutter against the insides of my belly. He looks so damn edible in his fitted dark-wash jeans and black pinstriped button-down. It’s untucked and the cuffs are rolled, giving a casual yet sexy air about him.
God, I love him so damn much it pains me.
“Hi,” I practically wheeze.
“Nora.” He tips his head in greeting. It’s stilted, awkward. I hope Hazel doesn’t notice.
“Mommy, can I give Connelly a tour?” My baby girl’s eyes are twinkling like holiday lights, so she’s apparently none the wiser about the tension that’s running like electric currents between her parents.
“Not now, Ladybird. After dinner, maybe. Why don’t you show Connelly where he’ll be sitting, okay?”
“Sure!”
Grabbing Connelly’s hand, Zel excitedly drags him to the kitchen table, pointing to his place. I thought it best if we keep things pretty informal, so I made a simple meal of baked fish, salad, and crusty French bread. Luckily for me, Zel likes fish and I know
what a health nut Connelly is. I ridiculously debated for an hour on wine. Wine, no wine. Wine, no wine. Finally, I ended up setting white wine glasses out, but now I’m wondering if that was such a good idea. I guess it’s too late to pull them off now.
“I hope mahi-mahi is okay?” I set down a platter containing the seafood, along with the bowl of salad. Hazel has already placed the basket of bread on the table.
“It’s fine, Nora. Thanks.” He’s short. His smile seems forced.
It makes me ache, this awkwardness between us. Is this how it will always be from now on? Painted-on smiles? Fake pleasantries? Barely leashed animosity?
I feel like crying. I paste on a smile instead.
“Mommy, can I say the prayer?”
“Sure, Zel.” I chance a quick glance at Connelly to see he’s utterly fascinated with her.
Hazel folds her hands and squints her eyes shut. “Thank you for the food we eat. Thank you for the world so sweet. Thank you for the birds that sing. Thank you God for everything. And thank you for having Connelly here for dinner,” she adds at the end, throwing me a look that already begs forgiveness in case it would make me upset.
It’s silent for a very long heartbeat before Connelly chuckles, which makes Hazel giggle, and pretty soon the tension has completely fizzled because we’re all laughing loudly.
The meal goes by quickly and, much to my surprise, comfortably. Hazel keeps the conversation going single-handedly. She talks about her new school, the photos of trees and a bird in flight she took last weekend, and a new friend she made this week named Callie. If there’s one thing that Zel excels at more than taking pictures and designing, it’s talking.
Hawk barking at the door gets our attention. He knows we’re eating and he’s missing out on table scraps. I normally let him run around but I think he could sense my nerves. He’s been hugging my leg all damn day, afraid to leave me for a second.
“You have a dog, Hazel?”