by Julie Cross
Something stirs in the pit of my stomach. It’s my photo. I should know what it really represents for me. Anyone can pull something else out of, something of their own. But it was a job for me, wasn’t it?
“You know Alex is one of those people wandering around looking,” Eve says, keeping her voice low. “He’s still trying to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up.” She laughs at that. “It’s strange to see someone look for something I found so long ago, but it’s not always that easy. If you get too logical—totally Alex—or too afraid of failure—my roommate Stephanie—or too emotionally invested in something else…then all these things get in your way. Life gets in the way, you know?”
Life gets in the way.
I look over my shoulder at my dad, maneuvering the room in his wheelchair, Eddie beside him, the two of them deep in conversation.
Life gets in the way.
A middle-aged man interrupts us, pulling Eve away for an interview. I continue to move from photo to photo, searching for some sign that Eve is wrong. That I’m not in my element dancing alone for her. And how do I know I wouldn’t be the same, training young dancers, telling them how great it feels to do something you love for a living and what skills will get them there?
And how will I really tell them if I’ve never been there myself?
I’m lost in thought when someone taps me on the shoulder. I spin around and face Eddie. The color has drained from his face, and his eyes are wide.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um…” His eyes dart around the room, then he runs a finger through his hair. “Caroline is…she’s…having a baby.”
“Now?” She’s not due for three weeks.
Eddie nods. His phone is still clutched in his hand. I tug it and glance at the screen, reading a text from RJ along with the name of the hospital.
“Can you…” I start, not sure if I should say it. “Are you allowed to go?”
He nods again. Beads of sweat pop up on his forehead, and he looks even paler than a few seconds ago. He reaches up and loosens his tie.
My dad wheels up beside us. “You should probably be there,” he says to Eddie. “At least in the waiting room. And maybe contact your lawyer…make sure he’s up to date.”
Eddie still looks like he’s in shock.
I rest a hand on each of his shoulders. “Hey, are you okay? Want me to go with you?”
“No,” he says but nods at the same time.
My dad stifles a laugh. “I think that’s a yes.”
I look between my dad and Eddie. Dad came all the way out here for this, and I’m leaving ten minutes after he gets here?
He nods toward the exit. “Go. I only came to meet the artists. I already talk to you enough.”
I tug Eddie’s arm, and he comes to life. Finally. “Cab. We should get a cab.”
He moves quickly through the gallery and out the exit. I follow behind him as best I can in heels. We walk half a block before catching a cab. Once we’re in the back of the cab, Eddie checks his phone again and inhales a sharp breath. He turns the screen toward me.
Another text from RJ: Boy. 6 lbs. 4 oz.
Eddie looks at me, and it’s like I can read his thoughts… Shit. It’s real.
CHAPTER 47
Eddie
“He looks like a Tommy or a Mason,” Finley says.
“I like Mason.” I rest my forehead on the glass window and lean more of my weight onto Fin—she and this window are literally holding me up. “Anything but Edward.”
She gives my arm a squeeze. “I like Eddie. But I get it.”
“Baby Boy Davenport” is written on a card taped inside the clear bassinet. Tommy or Mason or not-Edward is wrapped up like a burrito in a blue-and-yellow blanket, with a matching knitted hat on his head. The burrito wrap is supposed to give infants more security. But he looks confined in there. Tied up. He’s also the tiniest of all five babies currently in this nursery. If I touch him, he’ll probably break into multiple pieces, and I’ll have to get Connor to put him back together.
“I already want to buy him a pony and candy and a million LEGOs,” Fin says. “He’s just so sweet. I can tell.”
I release a breath. He does look sweet. He looks perfect, actually. A brand-new start. A slate that’s never been written on. He doesn’t have to grow up in a cold home like mine. He doesn’t have to go to fancy private schools or be part of a hundred-year legacy of business dictators. I can make sure his life is full of Star Wars birthday parties and backyard barbecues and soccer practice or baton twirling or whatever the hell he wants to do.
“Eddie,” a voice behind me says.
I look over my shoulder and see Ron Miller, family law attorney. My attorney. “What are you doing here?”
“Got your message,” he says. “Figured I’d hand deliver the order from the judge.” He holds up a piece of paper. The paternity test order. “Hopefully, they can take care of business tonight and get us our results tomorrow or the next day. Not likely, but I’ve seen crazier things.” He glances at the baby through the window. “Good-looking kid.”
I turn my attention back to not-Edward. His face is red, and his mouth is open. He’s crying. “What’s going to happen to him? I mean, like, right now? Will Caroline take him from the hospital?”
“The baby’s mother isn’t willing to bring him home with her temporarily. Not at all uncommon in these situations.” Ron clasps a hand to my shoulder. “Don’t worry about those details right now. You’re doing everything you can.”
I open my mouth to protest or ask more questions, but RJ appears in the hallway, and immediately, my concern shifts. I release Finley and step closer to RJ. “How is she?”
He looks worse than me—pale, exhausted. He shakes his head. “I don’t know—fine, I guess. She’s okay.”
God, I should have been here sooner. But how could I if no one told me what was going on? Except RJ.
RJ scrubs his face with both hands. “I’ve decided against procreation.”
Ron Miller and Finley both laugh. I wait for RJ to drop his hands before I ask, “Can I see her? Will she let me?”
“She’s alone. Probably not in any shape to toss you out, so I’d say now’s as good a time as any.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I get the room number from him, and I’m off, ignoring Ron Miller, probably trying to legally advise me on why I shouldn’t visit the opposition without consent.
I stop in the open doorway of Caroline’s room. Everything on this floor is decorated with tiny prints of baby feet in pink, blue, yellow, and green. Caroline is hooked up to an IV, wearing a hospital gown. I haven’t spent much time in hospitals. Like ever. Not since my grandma died, and that was four years ago. It’s hard to tell if Caroline’s stomach is flat again with her under the covers, but she looks like she’s been through hell. I almost leave, but she turns her head and sees me.
I walk slowly into the room, just a couple steps to get me inside. “Hey, how are you?”
“No baby in here, Eddie.” She lifts her hands up as if to prove that she isn’t hiding him under the thin sheet and blanket. “Nothing to see.”
“I saw him already,” I admit. “I came to check on you.”
Her face softens just enough to give me the courage to drag a chair beside the bed.
“I’m never ever doing that again,” she says, swiping her forehead, which seems to be sweaty still.
I give her a weak smile. “Then you and RJ are perfect for each other.”
“You know how many people told me that I’d be in labor for twelve or twenty-four or even forty-eight hours? Hold off as long as you can on the epidural.” She shakes her head, obviously frustrated. “But no, that kid came out so fast, I didn’t have time for any drugs.”
I wince, imagining experiencing childbirth—something I was forced to watch a vid
eo of in my parenting class—with no drug intervention at all. I end up saying this out loud.
“Wait, what class? I thought you skipped out on Princeton?”
“The parenting class,” I say as if she might know through the grapevine all the tricks I’ve put on the table for my case, though I was more than happy to have the opportunity to learn how not to kill my kid. “It’s something my lawyer recommended. Pretty helpful.”
She turns her head, looking up at the ceiling instead of at me. “You’re much braver than I am, you know?”
“Um, no. I’m not,” I protest. She’s nuts. I got a text and took a cab while my kid was being born. While she was giving birth. “Compared to what? The person who just gave birth?”
“But I didn’t choose it,” she says quietly. “I didn’t do anything but sleep with you and then sit around, waiting for my water to break. If I had to be the one to stand up and say ‘okay, I’m ready for this labor thing right now,’ I would have kept that baby inside me forever.” I laugh, but she shakes her head. “I’m serious, Eddie. I’ve never considered keeping him. Not once. Did you know that?”
Tears fall down her face, too fast to catch. I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s not talk about this now.”
“I want to talk about it,” she demands. “I would never be brave enough to raise my hand and say ‘I’ll be his mother. I can do it. I will do it.’ That’s what you’re doing, Eddie. That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
Then let me. Just give him to me, I want to say, but I can’t. Now isn’t the time for that fight.
“Brave people can still be idiots.” She gives me a pointed look. “I mean, he’s not going to have a mother if you get custody.”
Her words are as pointed as the look she gave me moments ago, but I can hear the concession in her voice. She’s accepted that I want this. I want him. Footsteps echo from the hall, growing louder. I have a feeling whoever it is, it will be my cue to leave. I glance at the door and then back at Caroline. “If I win…if I get custody, I promise you, I won’t do anything to make you regret giving him up. Knowing that, it will make me even more determined to be a great parent.”
She pulls herself up to a sitting position and makes a bad attempt to wipe the tears from her face with the bedsheet. “I won’t ever see you again. You know that, right? I can’t. There’s no way—”
I hold her hand between both of mine. “Yeah, I know.”
“And I’m not good at making friends,” she says. “You know I’m not. If something happens between me and RJ, I won’t have anyone to talk to. It used to be you.” She sniffles. “And that’s what I’m thinking about right now. Not that I have to give up my kid but that I have to give up my friend.”
She covers her face with her hands and starts crying harder. I don’t know what to tell her, so I don’t say anything. I just stand up and put my arms around her. The thing is, I’m not sure what she’s saying is completely true. I think some part of her does want this baby. The part of her that couldn’t go through with the abortion. But she’s not letting herself open that wound.
RJ returns and takes my place beside Caroline. He gives me this look like he’s saying to hang in there. And I get it. I’ve made the same choice RJ would have made if he were in this position—though he never would be, because he’s too responsible to screw up like I did—and he’s the reason Caroline has been even a little bit compliant with me.
A nurse stops me in the hallway. “Are you the one I’m swabbing?”
I glance around until my gaze lands on Ron Miller, who gives a tiny nod. The nurse glances at the paper he must have handed her and asks for some ID. Seconds later, she’s retreating down the hall, carrying a cotton swab that will link my DNA to the baby’s.
I’m about to ask Finley if she wants to go grab some dinner, with or without me, but then I notice someone standing beside her, looking at the babies in the window.
Finley looks up at me, concern on her face, and then she says, “I called her.”
“Ruby,” I say, giving my sister a nod. I don’t know why Fin called her and, even more, why she came, but whatever. I don’t care anymore.
“He looks like you,” she says. “Same dark curly hair.”
I roll my eyes. “Me and all the other Edward Wellingtons.”
Ron interrupts us to promise me that he’ll let me know as soon as the results are official. “Keep our fingers crossed for a twenty-four-hour time frame. That would be a gift from the family court gods.”
When Ron leaves, Ruby, being her blunt, somewhat insensitive self, says, “There’s no chance it’ll come out that you aren’t—”
“No,” I say, firmly enough to get her onto another topic.
“So who gets to name him?” Ruby asks. “I mean, will Caroline, or will he just not have a name until someone makes a decision?”
“He won’t have one until a judge makes a decision,” I tell her. “It’s not like we’re sitting here with our heads up our asses. I have no power until I’m declared genetically related to the kid. And even then, it’s not much.”
She lifts her hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. That’s isn’t what I meant, but okay. So he doesn’t have a name. Not a big deal.”
Finley, the peacekeeper, jumps in. “My mom took a week to name my brothers. She had Andrew and Henry picked out since the day the test came back positive, and then she saw them and decided they didn’t look like Andrew or Henry, so she started over. They went home as Baby A and Baby B Belton.”
I almost wish Connor and Braden were here right now. To distract me with their endless and innocently intrusive questions. Plus, I’m way behind on all the day camp gossip. And Sam would for sure make a lot of bad jokes to lighten the tension.
“Guess that’s one advantage of being fourth-generation namesake.” I step close to Fin and put my arms around her again. I’m so grateful she’s here. That I’m not alone with my insensitive sister. But I do appreciate Ruby being here. She looks fucking uncomfortable, but she’s still here. Against our parents’ wishes, I’m sure.
“What do you think we should call him?” I ask Ruby.
“Something spelled phonetically,” she responds without a pause. “Definitely not a name spelled oddly. Too complicated.”
“Finley says he looks like a Mason.”
Fin’s cheeks flush. She’s afraid of overstepping, I think.
“I like Mason,” Ruby says. “Simple. Classic. Easy to spell. No short nicknames that he’ll hate.”
I look at the kid again. He’s asleep now but still in that clear bassinet. I wonder if anyone is going to pick him up. I already know I won’t be allowed any closer until that test comes back positive. “I wish there was a way to ask him what he wants to be called. Seems like he should have a say.”
Sometimes, I wish there was a way for me to ask him if wants me to take care of him. What if he doesn’t? What if we don’t even like each other?
But I look at him one more time before the nurse closes the blinds, indicating the end of visiting hours, and I know that’s not possible. It doesn’t matter what he does or who he becomes; we’re going to be connected forever. Because if he ends up exactly where I am eighteen years from now, though I hope not, I’ll be here with him. I won’t force him to choose my way or not have a family anymore. I won’t be my father. Not ever.
“You ready to go?” Finley asks. She steps out of my grasp and places her hand in mine. When I hesitate, she adds, “We can come back tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay.” I thank Ruby for coming, and she mentions something about adding herself to Ron Miller’s list, whatever that means. Then I get into another cab with Fin and sink back against the seat, completely beat. Thank God I didn’t have to actually be there for the birth. I wouldn’t have survived. My head is finally clear enough to take notice of Finley’s behavior. She’
s in her own world, working something out on her own. I reach across the back seat and rest a hand on her knee. “What’s on your mind?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” No surprise there.
“I’m sorry you had to miss the show.”
“I think I saw enough.”
I’m left to sit there and wonder what the hell that means.
CHAPTER 48
Finley
Eddie hesitates in the hallway of my floor, like he’s not sure if we’re back to a place where he gets to sleep over. I roll my eyes and nod toward the door. We tiptoe to my room, and once we’re behind the closed door, he turns on that “let’s talk about it” look on his face.
I’m so tired, I can hardly stand it. I know Eddie must be feeling even worse. Everything tonight—it’s draining in a way that physical exertion couldn’t ever top.
“It can wait, okay?” I kick off my shoes and crawl up to the pillow on my bed.
Eddie ditches his shoes and ends up beside me. “You sure?”
I press my cheek against the cool pillow and nod. Before I drift off, Eddie’s arm slips underneath me, pulling me closer until my face is buried in the crook of his neck. We fall asleep like that, fully dressed in our party clothes, the light still on.
• • •
I shoot upright, my breath ragged, my heart pounding. The room is dark but slowly coming into focus. And my mom…she was here. Or maybe I was there. Not that I don’t want to see her again—sometimes, I want that more than anything—but knowing that’s not possible makes her appearance more than a little freaky.
There’s a rustle beside me, and I’m too jumpy not to react. My elbow makes contact with a solid form.
“Ow!”
The lamp beside the bed clicks on, and Eddie is in front of me, holding a hand to his cheek and looking more than a little concerned. I glance around the bedroom, realizing quickly that I’d been dreaming. My face warms. Now I know why Eddie was so embarrassed by his brief flashback/nightmare that one night.
