Late Love

by Scarlett Hopper

“Okay?” I say, attempting to keep my voice neutral.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I know you haven’t heard from him at all, and I know it’s been nearly a year. But what is there to stop him from trying to come back into the picture and potentially trying to get custody?”

  My hand tightens on my glass, the chill from it sending a shiver down my spine. The thought has always lingered at the back of my mind. Despite thinking Beck wouldn’t do it, I also have to acknowledge I clearly don’t know him as well as I thought I did.

  “Hey,” he says, reaching forward and linking his hand with my own. “I’m not saying this to hurt you or upset you, but it’s crossed my mind a few times.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m not upset. To be totally honest, it has crossed my mind a few times too. I don’t know for sure if he would want to be a part of Rosie’s life, but I feel pretty confident that he won’t. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to a lawyer, make sure he signs his rights away.”

  Owen places his hand on my arm. “Can I ask something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it seeing him you’re dreading? Because we can serve him with papers and you never have to deal with him again.”

  Owen always seems to know what I don’t say aloud. Doesn’t that tell me everything?

  “I don’t want to see him,” I admit. “But it’s not because I’m still holding onto old feelings and can’t let go. It simply comes down to the fact that I’d probably lose my shit and punch him. And he’s not worth spending a night in jail for.”

  Owen chuckles lightly. “I feel like I might do the same thing.”

  It’s so strange to me, Stana being the only one to have met Beck despite him being such a huge part of my life for years, being Rosie’s dad. But is he really her dad if he doesn’t show up? Doesn’t that make him more of a sperm donor?

  “It’s weird,” I start. “I gave that guy everything and he just fucked me over royally. I’m sure you think I’ve got terrible taste in men.” I quickly look at him. “Besides you, of course,” I say, grinning.

  He smiles. “I think Beck deceived you. I’m sure your entire relationship wasn’t a lie, but when you needed him, he let you down in the worst way possible. It’s okay to hurt over it, Lottie. I don’t want you to ever feel like just because we’re together, you can’t talk about him.”

  “Honestly, Owen, I’ve had over a year to get over it. Sure, it fucking hurt and I was angry for a really long time, depressed even, but that was more about the fact he made me feel like a fool and I was angry for Rosie. The fact that she might grow up wondering why she wasn’t enough. That’s what hurts the most.” I sniff a little, my throat tighter than it was a moment ago.

  “Hey,” Owen says, voice firm. “Look at me.”

  I do, but it’s through foggy eyes.

  “Rosie has the best mother in the whole universe, plus a shit-ton of uncles and aunts who would do anything for her. She will never feel alone, you hear me?”

  I nod, squeezing his hand. “I thank the universe every day that you found me throwing up in that toilet, Owen Bower.”

  He laughs, running his thumb up and down the top of my hand. “Me too, Lottie. Me too.”

  I lean in to give him a quick kiss before pulling back.

  “And if you’re worried about legal advice, you could talk to my mum about it,” he says.

  “I’ll call her tomorrow,” I say. “Thank you for caring about me and my baby as much as you do, Owen.”

  He takes the opportunity to pull me into him, our bodies perfectly aligned. I bring my lips to his, thankful for our little moments alone. I know from experience that the beginning stages of a relationship usually mean more time with one another, but we’ve never had a typical relationship to begin with.

  So, while we have this time together, we take full advantage of it. Both our clothes end up in a pile on the floor. Neither of us stop the exploration of one another until we’re exhausted, a heaped mess, tangled together.

  “I have to say, I was a little surprised you called.” Reeve stares at Rosie sleeping in her pram while he sips his piccolo. That’s Reeve for you, dark coffee to match that dark exterior.

  We’re at the café where Stana used to work, a small coffee shop in my neck of the woods. After my talk with Owen, I figured it might do me some good to get the perspective of someone who’s been in a position similar to Rosie’s. Reeve’s dad abandoned him before he was even born—well, that’s what he was told, anyway. The reality of the situation was much more complicated than anyone could have known.

  “I figure I should have reached out months ago, but with everything that went on with you and Em, it probably wasn’t the right time.”

  His face pinches at the memory of the turmoil he had with Em at the start of the year.

  I wrap my hand around my warm drink while the other rocks Rosie so she’ll stay asleep.

  “You need to do these things on your own time.”

  I nod. “Well, either way, I appreciate you meeting me on your lunch break. I know how busy you are.”

  “It’s really no problem, Lottie. I’m assuming you want to know about my childhood?” He leans back in his chair. “Ask away.”

  “Uh, okay,” I say, suddenly unsure how to begin. “I guess what I really want to know is how you felt growing up without a dad. I know Owen didn’t have his around either, but different set of circumstances. I guess I just wanted to get a perspective from someone who really knows what it’s like to be—”

  “Abandoned?” he cuts in, no malice behind his words.

  I nod. “Yeah, I guess to put it bluntly.” That’s the thing about Reeve—he doesn’t beat around the bush and waste time.

  “Honestly?”

  “Don’t sugarcoat shit for me. I want the truth.”

  He chuckles. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of sugarcoating a situation, Lottie.”

  My lips pull slightly at the sides. “So?”

  “In short? It felt like shit and gave me a plethora of long-term issues that then spread into my relationship with Emilia and nearly cost me the most important thing in my life.”

  My mouth drops open, a spot of coffee spilling out.

  “But,” he says, leaning forward, his arms resting upon his long legs, “it wasn’t as simple as Dad leaving did all that to me. I think the biggest part of my issues stemmed from how it was handled by my mum. She’s not a bad person, but she refused to tell me anything about him, wouldn’t speak of him, had an excess of husbands over the years, and I didn’t handle it well.”

  I nod, knowing the home situations of Rosie and Reeve are quite different.

  “The root of my anger with it all was that I felt lied to. I never had another father figure. Hell, I struggled to feel like I had a mum most days. But Lottie, hear me when I say this. Not having a dad around isn’t a recipe for disaster.”

  “Okay?”

  “I know Emilia filled you in on everything that happened with my dad last year.”

  I nod, thinking back to the fact it came out that his father didn’t know he existed, his mother keeping the secret from them both his entire life. But as a mother myself, I feel the need to think she must have had her reasons.

  “I thought my entire life if I just had a dad, everything would have been okay. But over the past year I’ve come to realize that sure, Mum handled it terribly, but she did it because she loved me. My dad was in no state to be a father; I still question if he is. I don’t think it would have done me any favors to have him in my life. Sometimes them not being there is better. And sometimes they just can’t be there, even if you want them to.”

  I nod, knowing that as much as I wish Beck had stepped up, if he was only planning to disappoint her, that wasn’t the type of role model she needed in life.

  “Plus, I think we both know Rosie isn’t lacking a father figure in her life. I have zero worry for you and her. I had a different situation than her, but I get it and if down the line when she�
�s older she has questions, she can come to me.”

  I’m speechless. In the year I’ve known Reeve, I’ve never known him to say so much. I could swear this is more than I’ve ever heard him talk combined.

  “You know, Reeve Sawyer, I might have to guess you’re a big softy under that hard exterior.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, suddenly out of words.

  I chuckle, clearly making him a little uncomfortable. I think I’ve just uncovered another layer to the mysterious Reeve Sawyer.

  “So how did it go with Reeve?” Owen asks, exiting Rosie’s room. His favorite thing is putting her to bed and since I get to do it most nights, I let him tonight.

  “Surprisingly well. He made me feel a lot better about the whole situation. He’s very insightful.”

  Owen grins. “For the people he lets into his circle, he’s a great friend. I’m glad you two spoke.”

  “Me too. It gave me a perspective on everything that I never even thought of. I sort of assume sometimes it’s black and white, like Beck letting me down just automatically meant bad things forever for Rosie, but I know it isn’t like that now. I mean, sure, I know his absence will have some impact on her life—how could it not? But I no longer feel like it’s this black cloud.”

  He comes to sit next to me, the couch dipping with his weight. “I’m glad you sought him out. Despite none of the lads, myself included, having alive or present fathers, I had a feeling he could help you in a way Ali and I couldn’t.”

  I think about Owen and his father, a man he never even had the opportunity to meet. A man we never really talk about.

  “Do you miss him?” I ask. “Your dad, I mean?”

  Owen lifts a shoulder, his blue eyes connecting with my own.

  “Sure,” he says. “I mean, I have no memories of him since he died when I was a baby, so my life never had some drastic change I was cognizant of. Mum spoke about him plenty growing up, answered any and all questions I had in order for me to get to know him, but it just isn’t the same. It was a hurt I dealt with as it came along, and I’m at peace with it now. Sure, it’s unfair I never got a shot with him, but I had Evie.”

  I reach out and wrap my hand around his wrist, attempting to offer any ounce of comfort I can.

  He smiles at me. Kind of a “what can you do about it?” smile.

  “That’s why I wanted you to talk to Reeve. Although we both grew up without fathers, our situations were different. There was never a reality in which my dad could come back. I was able to accept that he was gone and would always be gone. But with Reeve there was always that lingering thought. My dad didn’t leave willingly, but Reeve’s did.”

  Just like Rosie’s.

  “I think that’s why I waited so long,” I say in a whisper, surprised I can even get the words out.

  “Waited?”

  “God, it sounds so bad, but Owen, I was embarrassed. I think that’s a part of why I kept my pregnancy a secret. I mean, it’s not exactly normal to keep a pregnancy to yourself for six months without telling your friends.”

  “You were embarrassed of being pregnant at twenty-five?” His words don’t hold judgment, only a desire to understand.

  “No, not that. Twenty-five isn’t that young. I don’t find any shame in the fact I was pregnant; it all stemmed from Beck. I mean, after what he did to me, not only did I sleep with him, but I got pregnant.” Even thinking back to that final night with him gnaws away at my insides.

  “Lottie, look at me. Beck is the embarrassment, not you. So what, you had a slight error in judgment. Beck was an important person in your life for a long time. It’s natural in times of hurt to retreat back to a comfort zone, even if that comfort zone was the one who hurt you.”

  I nod. “I know. I see that now. It’s just hard to get over it. So much has happened in the past year, and if I think about it for too long, it gets so overwhelming.”

  Owen takes my hand that’s covering his wrist and maneuvers us until I’m draped over him. His fingers move up and down my back in soothing motions, my body instantly calming at his proximity.

  “It’s been a huge year; anyone would be overwhelmed. But remember when you feel that way, you’ve got a huge support system just waiting for you to lean on them.”

  I nod into his chest but say nothing. His words only confirm my fears. He shouldn’t have to be waiting for me to need him. He should be living his life to the fullest, not always be catering to my needs. That voice in the back of my mind rears its ugly head, but I try to push it down, opting to snuggle into Owen rather than face my fears.

  A few hours and a couple of glasses of wine later, I’m checking Instagram when I notice Saint Street’s Instagram featuring Reeve and Ali performing.

  Why are they playing without Owen?

  The comments below are people asking where the blond drummer is. A bartender who works there called Stella has replied, saying Owen had plans and couldn’t make it.

  My heart sinks at the comment.

  Owen does nothing for himself except be in this band, playing once every week or two if the guys are lucky due to their busy schedules. I know for a fact the only thing Owen had on tonight was seeing me and Rosie. He missed his gig just to see us. And instead of feeling giddy that he put me first, like I know many girls would, I feel pure guilt. My initial fear about starting a relationship comes back—that by committing to me, he’s going to miss out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a gig tonight?” I ask, trying to push down my internal panic alarms that are blaring. The ones telling me he is giving up his life to be with me. Giving up his passions and dreams.

  He slowly puts down the remote, his bare chest still on display as the blanket covers him. I see him pause for a few moments before turning to me.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” he tries to soothe, but I pull out of his reach.

  “Why didn’t you go?” I can’t keep the panic out of my words, and I know he hears it. He’s silent for a few moments, so I decide to keep going.

  “You missed your own band performing because you were worried about me? Why didn’t you just tell me you had a performance, Owen? I want you to go to those things. It’s important you keep living your life!” My voice continues to rise as I speak, I’m unable to keep it down.

  “It was more important for me to be here with you,” he shoots back, not giving in.

  “You’re with me every day, Owen!” I yell. I’m probably being irrational, but I don’t give a shit. This is how I feel.

  “Lottie, why is this bothering you so much? It was one gig. There will be a hundred more in the future, and it’s not like I’ve missed out on this big thing.” He looks me in the eye, and I can imagine the wide-eyed mess he sees staring back at him.

  “One gig now, one there, then eventually you won’t even go,” I whisper, my gaze locked on the carpet.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I just don’t want you to resent me down the line, the fact that at twenty-nine you basically abandoned your life for some stranger and her daughter. I mean, what the hell are we doing?”

  He rears back as if I’ve slapped him. “When have I once made you feel guilty about being with me? When have I once complained about the life you’ve breathed into my lungs? About the joy I get every single time I think about being with you and Rosie?”

  He huffs, running a hand through his hair, his relaxed demeanor no more. “Jesus, Lottie. I get you were hesitant initially—no one wants to jump into a relationship when they’re pregnant—but I thought we had moved past that. How are we back here?”

  “I’m not taking us back anywhere, Owen. But I think it’s reasonable for me to be concerned that you had a gig tonight with our friends and not only didn’t you go, but you didn’t mention it.” I try not to yell; the last thing either of us needs is to wake Rosie.

  He rubs his eyes before nodding slowly. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lottie. I should have mentioned the gig, but to be honest
work is kicking my arse and the last thing I felt like doing was socializing. I just wanted to be here with my girls, so I’m sorry. Okay? Can we just move past this and enjoy the rest of our night?”

  Despite my mind telling me to remember this, the fight slowly leaves my body. I nod at Owen. “Yeah,” I whisper.

  He approaches me with caution, clearly unsure if I’m going to go apeshit at him again. When he senses it’s all clear, he moves forward, pulling me into him. I relax into him, but that little voice inside my head won’t stop whispering one thing.

  You’re holding him back.

  Over the next few weeks Owen continues to be swamped by work, Rosie and I spending most of our time together or with Evie. I’m finally back in the swing of things with work, contemplating upping to three days a week when Rosie turns one and I’ll be comfortable with her going to daycare.

  After the fight between Owen and me, it seemed as if I was finding anything to sabotage our relationship. I just didn’t know how far my mind would have traveled by the end of the week.

  After two missed dinners due to work, my mind starts to panic and run with the situation. What if there is someone else? What if he’s finally realized I’m not enough?

  I’m sitting on the floor, playing with Rosie when my phone rings. Owen should have been home ten minutes ago, so I’m not surprised to see him calling.

  “Hey,” I answer, eyes still on my girl, who’s probably wondering where her favorite guy has gone.

  “Hey, babe, I’m not gonna be home for dinner tonight, I’m sorry. Work’s so busy, and I’ve just got a few things I need to get done. I will probably be another two hours.”

  My heart sinks, the dreaded feeling that’s been pulling at my skin all week awakening. He doesn’t outright seem like he’s lying, but I can tell something is off from his voice.

  “No problem. I’ll go ahead and put Rosie to sleep, then.” My voice is calm, even to my own ears. I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep myself contained. Sure, I don’t know if he’s cheating, but why else is he suddenly working late all of a sudden and taking secret phone calls?