by Nikki Ash
I grab a stack of clothes to bring them to his room to put them away while thinking about what will happen once he goes back to training. If all goes well, my dad and him will talk tonight and Marco will begin training. We will need to figure out care for Micaela. On top of that, I go back to school in less than three months.
I make a mental note to speak to my mom tonight. Maybe she has some advice on how to handle this. I always knew from the minute I made the decision to have Micaela this day would come, but I wasn’t prepared to feel that ache in my chest at the thought of someone else other than my family caring for my baby girl, but I don’t know what else to do. I have to go back to school, right? I know my end goal is to fight and run my dad’s gym and there’s no way he will let me takeover if I don’t finish college. Plus, I need to know I can provide for my daughter. What if Marco up and leaves? Or what if something happens to him? I need to be independent.
I open his drawers one by one shoving his clean clothes into them. When I get to the bottom drawer, where he keeps his socks, I notice a stack of envelopes in the back. Plopping my butt onto the ground, I open the drawer and pull the stack out. There’s got to be close to a hundred stuffed envelopes. I consider putting them back, not wanting to invade Marco’s privacy, when I catch my name and old address on the front. What the heck!
I skim through the front of each envelope and see the same thing. My name and my old California address. There’s a stamp in the upper right corner, but they were never mailed. I should put these back where I got them from. If he wanted me to have them, he would have mailed them. But maybe I could just open one? I take the rubber band off the stack and hold the front envelope in my hand, ready to open it when the front door slams shut. Shit! My guilt takes over and I’m stumbling over my own hands trying to hurry up and put the envelopes back, when Marco enters the room with a smiling Micaela.
My attempt to shove them in the drawer is almost a success until I slam the drawer with my fingers still inside.
“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” I jump up, holding my fingers and Marco shifts Micaela to his hip, grabbing my hand in his.
“Are you okay? Let’s get you some ice.” He pulls me into the living room, pointing for me to have a seat on the couch, then he sets Micaela under her play gym, her little feet kicking the piano and making noises.
“Thank you,” I say when he hands me the ice. I hold it to my fingers for a few minutes before I blurt out, “I saw the letters.”
He looks at me confused for a second, but I can see the moment his mind makes the connection. “Did you read them?”
“No, I was about to, but you came home and I slammed my fingers in the drawer.”
Marco laughs. “Such a sneak.” He shakes his head.
“When did you write them? Wait, are they letters? Why didn’t you send them?”
He gives me a comical look and waits for me to stop throwing questions at him.
“I wrote them while in rehab. I was going to send them, but every time I went to, I felt like a coward. I needed us to talk in person. So, instead of sending them, they kind of became a form of therapy in a way. I would write them and save them. I wrote one every day I was in rehab after my ten days of detox was over.”
Eighty letters from Marco. I can’t even imagine what they all say. Do I want to know what they say? Those were some seriously dark days for Marco.
“Do you want to read them?”
“Do you want me to?” I volley back, putting the ball in his court.
He gives me a nervous smile and nods. “I do, but you need to understand I was in a weird place. You may not like everything I have to say.” He gets up and leaves the living room, coming back a few minutes later with the massive stack of letters. “I’m going to go talk to your dad. He texted me asking to speak to me and I would rather go now. Want to meet at your parents in a little bit for dinner?”
“Sure.” I take the letters from him and he gives me a small kiss on my cheek before disappearing out the door. I stare at them for a few moments before Micaela makes herself known. Setting them aside, I lift Micaela from the floor and latch her on to eat.
“Hey, baby girl.” I run my fingers through her dark curls. She smiles wide and swings her arm up then goes back to eating. She takes her meals seriously.
Taking a deep breath, I open the first letter.
October 18th
Dear Bella,
Shit, that sounds so formal, like you haven’t been my best friend since I was twelve years old. I’m sitting here in rehab and there’s so much I need to say to you. So, I decided to write you. First, I know you are pregnant with my kid. Second, I shouldn’t have told you to have an abortion when you came to see me that day, but maybe it’s for the best I did because it forced you to walk away from me. I spent years saying I would never end up like my mom yet I ended up just like her. High on coke and heroin. Only, I know our stories won’t be the same, because you would never let me destroy our child the way my mom did. I know that’s why you decided to name Tristan as her dad, to protect her, and I need you to know I don’t fault you for that. You’re doing something my mom never knew how to do. You’re putting your baby first.
When I get out of here, I’ll sign whatever papers you need me to sign. I’ll sign over my rights. I don’t deserve you or that baby. If you would have listened to me, she would’ve been aborted. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.
Marco
I finish reading the letter and stare at it. If he felt this way, why did he come to the hospital? What made him change his mind? I can’t leave it like this. I need to read the next letter. After I finish feeding Micaela, I put her into her swing and grab the next letter hoping to get some type of answer.
October 19th
Dear Bella,
Today has been rough. It’s been 11 days since I’ve had a single drug and while my 10 days of detox ended yesterday and the drugs are technically out of my system, it feels like I’m drugged out. My body is craving the drugs. Do me a favor, please? Never tell your baby about me. Pretend like I don’t exist. Don’t tell him, he comes from druggie bloodlines. Keep him the fuck away from all temptation. I’m not saying he will go that way and I’m not using the excuse of my genetics as to why I turned to drugs. But just to be on the safe side, make sure he never goes near them. Don’t let him ever be a fuck up like me.
Marco
My God! Poor Marco. The struggle and guilt he felt. I almost feel like I’m invading his privacy reading these words, even if they were written and addressed to me and he gave me permission to read them. Not having the patience in the moment to sit through reading the other seventy-eight letters I grab the one in the back and open it up. I need to see how the story ends. Don’t judge me! It’s not like I’m reading the end of a real story… although, I may have done that a time or two as well. What? I have no patience!
January 5th
Belles,
Today is the last day I will be writing you a letter. It feels like I’ve been having a one-sided relationship with you, one that you know nothing about. It’s been a crazy ninety days, but I’m getting out tomorrow and I’m coming for you, Belles. It may take a few weeks for me to get settled before I come for you, but mark my words, baby, I am coming, and once I have you in my arms, I am never letting you or our baby go.
Love,
Marco
Gah! Now I wish I would have read them all! This letter is literally everything, but I want to know is how he got to this point. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s my fault for skipping to the end.
I tuck the letter back inside and place it in the back again then start from the front working my way back to the end. I read every single letter. I laugh. I cry. I cry a lot. Marco’s right. It’s like he had a one-way relationship with me for almost three months. He went through so much during his ninety days of rehab. He had so many thoughts and feelings. I wish I could have been there for him. I wish I could have visited him and held him and kissed him.
On
e of his biggest regrets was not being there for my pregnancy. I hate that he feels this way. We can’t go back and we can’t live our lives with what ifs.
Deciding I need to see him and give him a hug, I get Micaela ready and run out the door to my parents’ place to find Marco. I’m still scared and I still don’t completely trust him not to run, but I love this man. The good. The bad. The ugly. And I’m going to make sure he knows it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Marco
If you asked what’s in all those letters I might be able to tell you a few of the topics. I know there are a lot of I miss yous, plenty of I’m sorrys, and quite a few I love yous, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you what I wrote in all those letters. Did I mean everything in them? Yeah. But being in rehab was a difficult time. Nobody, who’s never been in that situation, can understand what it’s like to come off drugs and be isolated from everyone for three months.
I wrote whatever I felt at the time and I didn’t second guess it. I also didn’t read them after I wrote them. Even being in a high-end rehab center, I still saw some awful shit. I saw a drug addicted pregnant woman lose her baby, a husband trying to deal with physically abusing his wife while high. I listened to people talk their tales of how they got the way they are, and while every story is different, we all ended up in the same place, addicted to shit that hurt us as well as those around us.
When I told Bella that I’m scared to go back to fighting, I wasn’t kidding. The very thing I love just about killed me, pretty much killed my best friend, and almost cost me the woman I love and my daughter. When I envisioned making it in the UFC, this was not how I envisioned my life, and if I have to choose one or the other, I’m going to choose Bella and Micaela. I’m not going to talk to her dad about fighting. I’m not going back to fighting. What I am going to talk to him about is something else, though.
I pull up in the driveway and go to type the code in like I’ve done for half my life but stop myself and press the button. It buzzes, letting me drive through, and when I get to the front of the house Cooper is standing outside waiting for me.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He nods back down his driveway. We walk for probably a half a mile before he starts talking.
“I’ve known my daughter was in love with you since she was ten years old.” I do the math and that would have made me sixteen. Our age difference now isn’t a big deal, but nothing would have happened back then. Before I can respond, he continues. “Not like two adults love each other. But still love. She came home from the gym one day. You had ignored her to practice fighting with some friends. She was upset and crying. She didn’t understand the age difference. I don’t think she ever has. You’ve always just been you to her. I held her on the couch and tried to explain you were older and it will happen more because you need to fight people your age. But you know Bella, stubborn as a bull. She shook her head and said she would just learn to fight harder, better, so you would want to train with her. I knew in that moment, she would do anything for you. I watched her grow up, but she never dated. She fought. She fought hard, and every time I saw her struggle and overcome obstacles, I remembered our conversation. I wasn’t surprised when she said she wanted to move to California.”
“We weren’t even on speaking terms.”
“It didn’t matter. She’s always gravitated toward you. Tristan might have been by her side, but you were in her heart. I think it was your strength. Tristan is easy-going, but Bella needs someone to push her and encourage her. And you did. Until you hurt her.”
Cooper stops walking and turns to me. “You hurt her, Marco. You used your strength and you made her doubt herself, as a woman, as a soon-to-be mom. Whatever you said to her, she always took like it was gold, and I get that you were high for some of it, but I saw when things started changing. It was long before then.”
“She was young. I thought I was doing the right thing pushing her away. I could have handled it differently, though. I know that now.”
“And how are you going to handle things now?”
“She wants to trust me, but she’s scared. I’m taking it slow. Trying to earn back her trust.”
“Do you see a long-term future with Bella?” Cooper locks eyes with me and I see all the love he has for his daughter. He would do anything to protect her.
“I do. I want to spend my life with her. Marry her. Create a family and a life with her. But there’s something you should know. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“Cooper looks at me incredulously. “Aren’t you committed to a fight in a few months?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to announce that win or lose, I’m out.”
“Because you’re hurt?”
“Because fighting caused too many people too much pain. Logan is in a coma. I turned to drugs. I almost missed out on being a part of Bella’s and Micaela’s life. My back is okay, but that’s because I’m not fighting all the time. Can it handle one more fight? Yeah. But not years of it. And I’m not willing to take the chance. My back injury led me to drugs. It’s not worth it to me.”
“How are you going to provide for my daughter and yours?” Cooper crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive stance.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. While Bella is going to school and fighting, because we both know she will be fighting for at least the next ten years, I was thinking about staying home with Micaela.”
“Pulling a Bentley?” He raises one brow.
I chuckle. “Kind of. I was thinking I could help you run the gym. Help with the training, the MMA classes.”
“You want to be a part of my family business?”
“I want to be a part of your family.”
“Are you asking my permission to marry my daughter?”
“No, I’m not.”
Cooper tilts his head to the side in a what the fuck kind of way. “I’m not ready to ask your permission to marry her. Not yet. But once I’ve earned her trust and deserve to marry her, I’ll be back to ask.”
“You’re a good man, Marco. You just need to find your way, and you will. You have an amazing support system so lean on us when you need to. Take care of my daughter and granddaughter, and don’t fucking run again. We’re here for you. Let us be here for you. As far as the gym goes, focus on this fight coming up, and once the fight is over, we’ll figure it all out.”
I reach my hand out to shake his. “Thank you.”
We get back to the house and Bella’s vehicle is parked behind mine. She must have gotten to her parents’ house while her dad and I were talking. I don’t even make it through the doorway and she’s flinging herself into my arms. Her arms and legs wrap around my body and if I wasn’t standing in her parents’ foyer I would be throwing her ass onto the bed.
“I love you,” she whispers into my mouth, our lips mere millimeters from touching. The conviction of her words just about brings me to my knees. I have no idea what I ever did to deserve this woman, but I am going to live the rest of my life making sure she never regrets saying those words to me.
“I read all of your letters.” Her eyes shine brightly and she gives me a watery smile. I bring my lips to hers, but our kiss is nothing more than a tease. A promise of something more to come later.
A throat clears, reminding us we aren’t alone. I reluctantly set Bella back on her feet and that’s when I notice it’s not just her parents who are here. My parents, my sisters, as well as Kayla and Bentley are all staring at us. And just as I’m about to close the door behind me, in walks Ashley, Kaden, and their daughters. The only people missing are Tristan and Mason. Liz is holding Micaela, but as soon as she sees me, she starts screeching, her arms reaching out for me. I grab her from Liz and give her a kiss on her cheek. Nothing feels better than having Micaela in my arms and Bella by my side.
Dinner is ready so we all grab a seat outside—while it’s still cool enough to eat out here—and dig in. Liz went healthy for Bella since she’s training and grilled up some
chicken and pork chops. There’s salad, sweet potatoes, and tons of fruit and vegetables. It’s all delicious.
“Can I sit with you?” Ryan, Bentley and Kayla’s adopted son, asks me. He became a part of their family about two years ago when his mom committed suicide and his dad got busted with drugs. When he moved in, he had selective mutism, meaning he could talk but wouldn’t. During our Christmas vacation to Breckinridge, Ryan and I bonded. No idea why but he trusted me and spoke to me. Since then, we have weekly video chats. Except for when I was high and didn’t give a shit about anyone around me. The first time we video chatted once I was clean, Ryan asked me where I was for so long, and it broke my heart.
Since Bella and I moved back here, I’ve brought Micaela over to visit with Bentley and Ryan on several occasions. The kid holds a special place in my heart. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was little, only he was fortunate enough to be given a better home at an earlier age.
“Of course you can.” I pick him up and swing him over the bench to sit next to me as Kayla brings over his plate of food and juice box.
“So, I’m thinking of joining a mom’s group,” Bella announces. Bella… in a mom’s group? I hold back my laughter. She barely has any girlfriends because she can’t handle the drama and cattiness that goes along with befriending most women.
“Mom’s groups are the damned devil,” Bentley points out seriously. Kayla and Liz laugh.
“That’s only because they all wanted themselves some Daddy Bentley,” Liz jokes through her laughter. “Bella, I think if you want to join a mom’s group, that’s great. But are you doing it to meet other moms or to socialize with Micaela?”
