I’m in luck. As I leave the restaurant and begin my jog down Main Street, an elderly couple exit a cab.
“Wait,” I shout, waving my hands.
This isn’t the city. We don’t get cabs on every corner.
I shoot an apologetic smile towards the elderly couple and slip into the back seat.
“Mandy!” Alex burst out of the restaurant. His voice is panicked and goes straight through my chest.
“Please, just go,” I urge the driver, followed by the ramblings of my address.
I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll crumble, and I don’t have time for a mental breakdown.
I hear my name again, and before I close my eyes, I see him running towards me, but the driver has already driven away, past the restaurant, and away from the heartbreak I’m bound to face. He’ll be after me, I’m sure of it. I only need a few minutes to know for sure.
But what if it’s her? What do I say? What do I say to her? Will there even be a chance?
Every day I think about her. I torture myself because I deserve that much. But the questions never stopped stacking up. I wondered when she first rolled over. What her first word was? When did she start walking? What was her favourite part about school? Did she have a best friend? And every other question in between. But most of all, I wanted to know if she was happy. I only wanted to give her the best chance, and she never would have had it with me. Not then. Not in the nights that followed, after her birth, when I couldn’t sit up long enough to brush my hair or have a shower.
I survived after Nick, but not after Chloe. After Chloe, I didn’t live. I existed. I merely walked around the house and university campus, but with no life inside. In company, I smiled empty smiles, and cried dry tears, to show them I wasn’t void of human emotion. Inside, it buried me alive. Day by day, dirt seeped through my blood until all I had inside was darkness.
Black.
Nothing.
That summer, I agreed to go on medication. They said it would help.
It didn’t.
It made me sleep. I slept so much my nights blended with my days, and days into weeks, and it wasn’t getting better when I woke up. My mom was so scared, she handed me my tablets herself so I wouldn’t have access to too many. I’d like to say she was paranoid, but she wasn’t. I wanted everything to end. I didn’t want to open my eyes anymore until I realized if my little girl ever came looking for me, I wouldn’t be there. I would have abandoned her all over again. I couldn’t do that. Living with the pain was easier than losing the opportunity to see her again.
So, for years, I dragged myself through my days. Slowly, it got better. My lungs opened and I could breathe again, but never without pain. I needed the pain because I needed the reminder.
I’m still unsure what I was thinking after Nick’s death. I wanted my little girl to have a better life. How I convinced myself it was okay not to be involved in that life; I still can’t comprehend. I remember little of that time. There was a haze over the memories, as if I’ve put a barrier between them to protect myself. But there’s always one memory I can still see so clearly. It could have happened yesterday. It was the moment I heard Chloe cry for the first time. Her high-pitched wails slowly subsided into tiny whimpers when they placed her in my arms. Her low grunts and even breathing relaxing as I pressed her body on my skin. For such a small person, she filled my arms and my heart more than I ever knew possible. I placed my lips on her warm cheek, breathing in her smell. And when I let her go, my arms were empty beyond anything I imagined. The space became cold, and my chest burned, knots churning low in my stomach. And the coldness has embedded itself there ever since.
I bounce my leg nervously and pick at my nail polish until the car comes to a halt at the curb outside my house. I fumble with money in my purse before tossing it in the driver’s direction. I don’t have time to count it. Alex is going to come storming through my door any minute.
My house is cold when I switch on the light inside. Maybe it’s from all the time I spend with Alex in his house, or maybe it’s from the chill that crawls up my back.
I drop my clutch, heart pounding so hard against my chest, I think it will bruise, and run to the kitchen. My handbag is hanging from the hook on the door.
It won’t be in here. I’m overreacting. I see a little girl with black hair and brown eyes, and I jump to conclusions.
But a brown envelope sticks out amongst the white ones with the university’s stamp. This one has a handwritten address, and my insides curdle. How did I miss this?
I skim my finger under the seal, ripping the paper. Inside there’s a white sheet and another smaller brown envelope. When I remove it and unfold the sheet, my blood turns to water. My eyes run over the words, but I’m hardly reading them.
Dear Miss Parker,
We recently received a request from the adoptive parents of your child. As you requested to receive contact should the adoptive family wish, we have enclosed the letter for your consideration.
Please note, you do not have to do anything about this letter. If you decide to move forward, you can do so in a controlled manner through the adoption agency. If you have further questions, you can contact us directly.
The letter slips from my fingers, floating to the ground. I can’t finish it because I already know what’s in the other envelope, and before I open it, a tear slides down my cheek, soaking the brown paper in my hands. The A4 page is covered in handwritten blue ink.
I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
To the amazing woman who made me a mother,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. My deepest apologies. I know it must be a shock to hear from me after so long. I do not mean to bring up memories, but I have wanted to do this for the longest time.
Our daughter,”
Those words.
Our daughter.
My sobs escape as my legs give way and I slide against the wall.
“Our daughter has just turned six, and she is the most beautiful little girl. She has always known about you and her story of how she became my daughter.
Unfortunately, I am unable to fill in the parts of your story, and she has begun to ask questions.
For various reasons, that would take too long to explain in one letter. I would like her to get to know the woman who brought her into this world.
Please know, I don’t have any expectations, and I have not told my daughter anything about reaching out to you. I would like to meet you first.
I completely understand if I never hear from you. But if you feel ready, and are in the position to do so, I would love to meet you to discuss how our little girl can come to know you.
Again, I hope this letter hasn’t shocked you too much, and if you feel this is not the time, then let me say one thing.
Thank you.”
“Oh, God.” The screams come instinctively, and my legs come up to meet my chest. I hear a voice in the distance, but I’m too busy focusing on the world crashing, collapsing around me until it squeezes my lungs so tight I don’t have air.
“Mandy,” a voice shouts, grabbing my face in warm hands. It’s him. “Baby, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?”
I don’t move. I don’t think I can anymore.
I rock and clench the paper between my fingers. In his arms, I’m numb now. He presses my face to his chest, hushing me with whispered words.
From the floor, I can see through my kitchen window and out onto the dusk sky. The sun setting feels fitting. The same is about to happen for me and Alex.
How did this happen?
And what can I say to convince him I didn’t plan this?
I’ve met my little girl. It’s what I’ve wished and dreamed about for six years, but I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me. She’s not mine. I gave up my right to say that.
It’s the first time since I met Alex I feel anything other than love. I envy him. I’m jealous he’s had my daughter all this time while I yearned for her. I’m angry becau
se he wasted his days with me instead of filling hers.
I have no right to any of these feelings. I don’t know their story. I don’t know the circumstances. I don’t know fucking anything, and it’s killing me.
I need to scream.
The warmth of his fingers around my wrist brings me back. My eyes glaze over, but I look at him anyway. It doesn’t matter what he sees now. Everything is going to change in a matter of minutes. The moment I begin to speak is the beginning of the end.
“Hey,” he says softly, pressing his lips to my wet cheek. “Come back to me, baby.” A crease forms on his forehead as his eyes narrow in on my me, and he tries to smile, but it falters. “You need to say something before I go out of my mind.”
I look away, because like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m about to break this man in more ways than I ever knew how. And it hurts. Like something sharp clawing at my chest, pinching the skin every time but delicate enough that I suffer each splice until I become raw. I’m all but bleeding out. It will come. I’m sure of it. I will lose him, and I deserve it.
But I could lose more than Alex.
Have I ruined my only chance with my daughter because I fell in love with a man I didn’t know loved her too?
I’m about to find out.
My stomach churns with acid as I pull myself up. He helps. It’s the dead of summer, but it’s chilly, and I hug my arms around myself. He tries to guide me to sit on the stool, but I pull away. Instead, I walk straight to the cupboard to get myself a glass and pour some water. I take a sip before setting it back on the counter because my hands are trembling, and I rest my palms on the ledge to steady myself.
I swallow back the tears and try to put a barrier around my heart. I can feel it already.
Alex is slipping away.
I sense his heat at my back before his arms come around my waist. He holds me tight, and I wish we could stay this way forever. When all of this is out in the open, I don’t know where we start in putting it back together.
This feels different from when we stood here months ago when I told him about Nick. That brought us closer, while this will tear us apart.
I push against him to put space between us. I don’t deserve his comfort.
I fight the urge to fall to the floor and sob until the world around me disappears. The pain beneath my ribcage is suffocating, and I dig my fingers in, as if I can somehow pull it out. When I turn around, he’s looking down at me, eyes narrowed, strain across his forehead, and I can almost see the pulse throbbing in his neck.
“This is one of those times when I ask you to let me say everything and don’t interrupt, but I also understand if you need to.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling my neck so my face is pressing against his chest, but my arms stay limp at my sides.
It’s coming—that ice wall forming around me, barricading me in, trapping me until everything is empty again. The way it always was.
The alternative is to let myself feel this, but if I do it, secure in his arms, it will shatter me because no matter how tightly he holds me, he will never put me back together.
“Christ, Mandy. You’re shaking.” His eyes penetrate me, but I’m sure my wall has gone high enough. He can’t see the emotions swirling in my eyes.
“Don’t love me or comfort me right now.” I step out of his grasp. “You’ll regret it.”
“Mandy-”
“You never told me about Ava.”
He did.
“I mean, I knew you two were close, but you’re more like a father to her,” I correct.
It’s a strange thing to say, I know. He blinks a few times, and his breathing seems calculated.
“It’s one of those things.” He shrugs. “It can be strange unless you see it. I wanted to introduce her to you first, so you could see it with your own eyes. I’m not her father, but I’m more than her uncle. She comes to me on holidays and stays at my house some weekends. I would have introduced you sooner, but everything has been in chaos at work, and I haven’t been able to spend as much time with her.” He arches a brow in question. “Is she why you’re acting like this?”
“Yes. But not for the reason you think,” I say flatly. Remembering the two of them together, I can’t prevent my voice from shaking. “She loves you, Alex. You’re incredible with her.” Before he can answer, I blurt, “Ava was adopted.” He’ll take it as a question. It wasn’t.
He blows out a breath, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Jesus, how much did you and my sister talk? She doesn’t discuss Ava’s adoption with anyone but family.”
I am family.
I don’t say anything, and he’s looking at me like I’ve sprouted extra arms.
“Mandy?”
“You’ve been looking for her birth mother.”
“What’s going on?” He glances around the room as if the walls can answer his questions.
I’m acting crazy. I know it. But I need to try to make sense of this.
When I don’t respond, he continues, “Lydia wrote to the adoption agency months back, but we heard nothing. We assume she doesn’t want to be found. I can’t imagine what it’s like to give a baby up and then have their adoptive parent come looking for you. We’re not sure what her story is, but we wanted some answers for Ava. And with Lydia being sick, I suppose she is looking for someone who might give Ava guidance when she’s gone.”
My body is shaking so violently, my teeth are chattering. The blood in my veins runs cold, and the buzzing in my ears is deafening.
“Ava’s birth name. Do you know it?”
Silence.
“It’s Chloe, but I’m sure you already knew that.”
His eyes become wide as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Nobody knows that.”
He takes another step back.
And it’s happening.
He is slipping further away from me. I can’t reach out and touch him anymore.
“I wanted to tell you this when we got home tonight.” I take a deep breath and swallow. I have to say it, and I don’t know how, but it must come out.
“Okay,” he drawls, trying to make sense of something he couldn’t possibly get his head around.
“Chloe.” I bite my lip. Fuck. “I mean, Ava. She’s mine, Alex.”
Another step back. “What are you talking about?”
I better get this out before he thinks I’ve lost my mind.
“After Nick died, I found out I was pregnant. I was nineteen, grieving, and out of my mind, but I loved her from the moment I felt her move.” For the first time, I allow a tear to fall. It was Christmas morning. Before then, I felt the butterflies. It was like popcorn popping, but this was a full kick below my ribs and my belly waved. “I knew I couldn’t do it. I wanted her to have everything I knew I couldn’t give her. Or what I thought I couldn’t give her. And when they placed her in my arms on March fifth, six years ago, she became my whole world, and she has remained that way ever since—from afar.”
He takes a step towards me.
“She’s mine, Alex,” I repeat, stopping him in his tracks when I outstretch my arm and he sees the letter shaking between my fingers.
Only then, I see the weight of my words sink in like our paths on different worlds have collided, leaving us suspended in the air, unable to find our footing.
Still staring at me, he grabs the letter, and the longer his eyes scan over the page, the harder I fight for air.
“No. No,” he echoes, and every time he says it, the word becomes more desperate. He doesn’t want my words to be real. But they are. And now, I must deal with the crash. I must accept the consequences of my past, and all the words I chose not to say.
Come back to me, Alex.
“Is this some sort of sick fucking joke? Because it’s not funny, Mandy.”
I shake my head, feeling the tears spill from my chin. “No.”
“This isn’t real. You’re not her mother. You’re not the person w
e’ve been looking for.” The muscles in his jaw tick before he turns away from me, only to spin back around. “You?”
“I had no idea. The letter went to my parents’ house. I got it at the anniversary party but only opened it tonight. Lydia mentioned Ava was adopted and all the pieces fell into place. I never expected this.”
He doesn’t care, but I feel the need to explain before he cuts me out completely. I know, deep down, it won’t work, but I need to try.
His eyes wander unblinking around the kitchen. Anywhere but on me.
“Alex, look at me.” My voice wavers, so I swallow back the fear. “Alex, fucking look at me.” My scream startles him long enough for me to continue, and I ignore his eyes as they bore through me like shards of glass. “I didn’t know it was you. I promise. I thought I’d never see her again. I wanted her to be happy.” I scrub a hand across my face before looking back at him. “I didn’t know who I was falling in love with.”
He glares at me like he has met a stranger—one he doesn’t like.
“So, you’ll leave them alone now—my sister and Ava?” And damn it if that doesn’t break my heart.
I suck in a breath and hope I find more strength in my wobbly legs. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t, Alex. I’ve seen her now. I’m so sorry.” I’ll tell him I’m sorry until the day I take my last breath, but I don’t think it will ever be enough. “Your sister said she is going to need me,” I add.
Every feature on his face becomes wide, like my words have punched him. “Fuck you, Mandy. She needed you six years ago.”
I close my eyes, absorbing what he just said. It hurts more than I ever knew words could, but I deserve every syllable, every letter, every angry inflection in his voice. I deserve it all because I can’t deny what’s true.
“I didn’t know if we’d ever find Ava’s birth mother, or if she ever wanted to be found. I sure as hell never wanted to find her, but for Ava’s sake, I thought about what she’d be like. What her circumstances were.” He barks a humourless laugh that sends a chill down my spine. “And she was in my bed all this time. I bet you got a kick out of that.”
Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series) Page 21
