by S. M. Soto
It’s crazy how the universe works. Sometimes, you just have to stop and wonder if the man upstairs laughs at all your prayers and wishes. Does He look down on you with pity? Because He knows He truly holds all the cards, or does He not feel an ounce of remorse? For years, during my marriage with Dean, we tried everything we could to get pregnant, and still, nothing worked. I wanted nothing more than a family and a child of our own. But it seems my body couldn’t even do the one thing it was made to do. Reproduce.
The fact that I couldn’t have a baby put a strain on our marriage. The fact that I couldn’t give Dean the one and only thing he asked of me. After graduating high school, I fell into the wife’s role all too easily, and college took a back seat because that was how Dean wanted it. I didn’t need college when I had him. Because who else was going to keep the house clean? Who was going to make him dinner? He couldn’t have his wife gallivanting about—no, he needed me at home, where he could keep me under his thumb.
We went through years of heartbreak. Our friends and family wondered why we hadn’t started a family yet. Dean’s work colleagues frequently asked when I would give him kids, unaware that we’d been trying for years. Not realizing that each of their words was a well-placed dart to the heart.
It felt like I was never enough. I wasn’t woman enough to bear a child. I wasn’t strong enough to give my husband what he needed. We tried hormone treatments, failed IUIs and IVFs, and suffered a slew of heartbreaking miscarriages. I could see the sadness weighing on our marriage. It was palpable and damn near impossible to wade through. I couldn’t look at him without feeling panicked, and I couldn’t look at myself without being disgusted by what I saw. I felt like a failure.
A few times, I mentioned the possibility of adopting if things didn’t work out, but Dean didn’t want that. He wanted a child of his own flesh and blood—someone who could carry on his family name and legacy. Screw me and my feelings. Forget the fact that I was slowly shattering each and every time I got my period after a treatment. None of that mattered to him.
The mental process of infertility took a toll on me. I was sad and depressed almost all the time, and because I was stuck alone all day, without any personal interaction, it only made things worse. I think that was what made Dean’s affair so hurtful. It was a betrayal. It felt as though he’d stabbed me in the back. He found someone else to give him that baby, and, of course, it had to be with the one person he knew I couldn’t stand—the one person who has made my life a living hell for years.
I hadn’t spoken to my cousin, Skylar, in years, so when she started coming around again, deep down, I knew I should’ve pushed her away, but I didn’t, and that was my first mistake. Despite our rocky past, I embraced my cousin with open arms.
After I lost my mother, I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by family. Especially since my father took it the hardest. He let himself go after she passed. He stopped being a father and stopped caring about…everything. So, when Skylar came around, the last shred of my family, I held on to her like a lifeline.
I just didn’t realize that opening my arms to her would equal her opening her legs for my husband. I don’t know how I missed the signs that they were sleeping together behind my back, but they went to great lengths to hide it. Or at the very least, Dean did. It wasn’t until a month before Skylar was due that I found out why.
She was pregnant.
With his baby.
My husband was finally going to have that baby—only, it wasn’t with me.
That first phone call with Skylar was just the start of my heartbreak. Apparently, she’d been trying to get money out of Dean, so she could raise the baby, and he was trying to keep her quiet, so I wouldn’t find out. Skylar grew bored of being the secret, so she decided to ruin our lives with one phone call.
I wanted to kick Dean out the second I had the proof I needed, but how could I? This was his house. This was his money we were living on. Dean made sure of that a long time ago. I was just his trophy wife, there at his side to look good. But we weren’t partners. We weren’t equals. He was the man of the house, and I was like a child with an allowance.
Almost as if Skylar knew I wouldn’t believe her off her word alone, she showed up at our place brimming with energy, her belly on full display. That icy pain filtering through my chest was a living, breathing entity. I had never cried so much in my entire life, and I had no one to run to. My mother was gone, my father wasn’t speaking to me, and my best friend lived on the other coast. Every person I’d normally run to for help was suddenly nowhere to be found.
I filed for divorce and spent that last month crying day in and day out until Skylar gave birth. Of course, Dean fought me. He wanted to make it work. We had almost ten years of marriage under our belts, and he didn’t want to throw it away on a mistake.
But this wasn’t just a mistake.
He didn’t mistakenly sleep with my cousin. And my heart tells me he didn’t mistakenly get her pregnant either.
Dean claimed his slipup with Skylar was because he was in pain. After so many failed tries of IVF and miscarriages, I shut down. I’ll admit that I wasn’t the perfect wife. I was depressed. I was angry with myself. I was so many things except a good wife.
He tried to win me back for a while, but I think he gave in when he realized I wouldn’t budge. Some part of me considered making it work. I toyed with the idea of therapy and counseling—anything to get us back on the right track—because the idea of navigating life with no one by my side was almost too scary to bear.
Now when I look back, I can’t believe I even considered taking my husband back. My cheating husband and his child. All it took was one conversation with my best friend, Rosalind, to pull me back in my right mind. Nothing was left of my marriage to salvage. I let this man embarrass me and dictate everything in my life for years. I wasn’t going to forgive him this time. I couldn’t let this slide. I planned on telling him all of this to his face. I planned on handing him divorce papers and smiling in the face of his frustration, but that was when the second phone call came, and my entire world crumbled around me.
Not only had my husband been in a car accident, but Skylar was, too. Even in death, they still managed to hurt me because it was apparent Dean wasn’t done with Skylar just yet. They were still sleeping together, even while he was begging me to take him back and crying that he couldn’t live without me. That was never really it, though, was it? He wasn’t going to miss me. He would miss the wife who would do everything for him—the wife who took care of him, not Daisy.
Not the Daisy who used to laugh.
Not the Daisy who loved to paint.
He was going to miss the version of me that made his life easier.
What hurt the most was the fact that I never got to give him my final piece. I never got to leave him and watch him realize he lost a good woman. He died before I could ever do any of that.
After Skylar and Dean’s death, the blows didn’t stop coming. Oh no, the final blow was Faith, their daughter. At six weeks old, she had no parents and nowhere to go. On Dean and Skylar’s getaway trip, they left their newborn daughter with a nanny Dean had apparently hired. On top of that, he had bought Skylar a condo for her and the baby. He mentioned he was staying at a hotel to give me space at the house, though I didn’t believe that for one second.
I considered turning my back and saying this baby wasn’t my problem, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t. When I looked in her eyes and saw pieces of Dean and Skylar, it equally broke and mended my heart at the same time. She was beautiful and innocent, and she didn’t deserve to be bounced around from family to family or put in the system because her parents were selfish. She deserved to be loved.
And after much thought, I decided I could love her, despite the mistakes of her parents. Dean’s parents could’ve taken her, I’m sure they wanted to, but after taking that first look at Faith, I knew she was mine, maybe not in the way that mattered to the rest of the world, but I felt it in my heart
.
So that’s where I am now, raising an infant with no job, no money, at my best friend’s place until I can get my shit together. I pad down the hallway into Rosalind’s immaculate kitchen and start warming up a bottle for Faith. She’s still crying at the top of her lungs, my bouncing and soothing not working. There’s a part of me that knows it’s because she misses Skylar. She has to.
My heart twinges at the thought of her missing Dean, too.
“If this arrangement is going to work, Little Miss Faith needs to keep it down a few notches. I think my ears are bleeding,” Rosalind says on a yawn as she pads into the kitchen. Guilt slams into me. As a lawyer, I can’t imagine having a screaming baby up at all hours of the night is helpful for her or her clients. She’s not the only one I have to worry about either. Her fiancé, who also works at the firm with her, is asleep, too. Though, I have noticed he’s a heavier sleeper than Rosie. But still, I don’t think a crying baby will help them win any cases. Hell, I remember how hard it was on Dean while working at the firm back in California.
After the accident, Rose helped me pick up the pieces of my heart and my life. When I decided I would take Faith in, she was the one who wanted me to make sure I could do this. That I could spend the rest of my life looking down at this little girl and love her with all my heart. Despite all the heartbreak and turmoil, I knew deep down that I could. Because I’d never forgive myself if I left her to the system.
Rosalind offered to fly us out to her home in New York until I could get back on my feet. So with what money I had to my name, which wasn’t much without Dean’s paycheck, and not including his life insurance policy, we moved. Don’t get me wrong, we have assets in the process of being liquidated, but now, more than ever, I felt the need to walk out of this marriage with everything I came with. None of that money was ever mine to have—Dean made that blatantly clear. I’d make sure every cent of that money went to Faith and her future. It’s only our third night here, and it already feels like we’ve overstayed our welcome.
I just need to find a job and a nanny who can take care of Faith while I’m at work, then we’ll be okay. I can dig into some of the savings from the insurance policy and get us a place. Just until I can go back to college, finish my degree, and find a real job.
“I’m so sorry, Rose. I promise, we’ll try to be quieter.”
She shakes her head, settling on one of the barstools at her breakfast bar. “Stop apologizing, Daisy. None of this is your fault. I opened my home to both of you because I love you.”
My chest squeezes like it’s in a vise at her words, so I turn toward the counter and finish making the bottle. I blink back the tears threatening to spill.
I hate feeling like an inconvenience. I know she’s my best friend, and she’d do anything for me, but she has her own life. A fiancé who I’m sure wants his privacy. I’ve known Damon for three years now. I met him during one of Rose’s trips to California. He’s an amazing guy and the perfect match for her. It should’ve been a red flag that Dean didn’t like him. Dean didn’t seem to like anyone.
“Here, let me help,” she offers, taking the bottle from me so I can get Faith situated. The second the bottle hits Faith’s lips, the room is filled with silence. Rose and I breathe a sigh of relief and listen to the sound of baby girl suckling as she calms herself.
“Have you found a job yet?” she asks, and I cringe. I shift on the seat, hating that I still haven’t gotten one callback. “Don’t do that. I’m not forcing you to get a job, but if you haven’t heard anything, I might know of a position that pays well. Very well, actually.”
I heave a sigh. “I haven’t gotten one callback. It’s like no one wants to hire me.”
Rosalind purses her lips in thought, then leans forward, raising a brow. “How desperate are you?”
“Pretty fucking desperate, Rosie.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip in contemplation for a beat before she sits up straight and cuts to the chase. “I know someone who is hiring, but the job isn’t easy. He’s tough. The guy is downright mean, but the money is good, Daisy. It can help out a lot.”
Everything she’s saying sounds so good, almost too good. Not to mention she looks nervous, and that’s putting me on edge. “What aren’t you telling me, Rosalind?”
“Are you interested or not? Promise me if I get you an interview, you won’t walk out?”
My brows tug down. “Why would I walk out? It’s a job with great pay. There’s only one person I’d—” I cut myself off as realization dawns on me. I’m already shaking my head. “No. Nope. No way.”
She sighs and looks pointedly at the baby in my arms. “What other option do you have, babe?”
My eyes slam shut, and I deflate.
Pain lances through my chest.
She’s right.
I have none.
I can’t believe this is happening.
My nerves are through the roof as I sit in the lobby of the architectural firm where my interview is in less than—I glance down at my phone that’s trembling in my lap—ten minutes. I’m nervous. So incredibly nervous that I feel like I’m going to be sick, and I’m pretty sure my armpits are soaked with sweat.
This was a horrible idea.
He’s never going to go for it.
Sucking in a lungful of air to quell my nerves, I force myself not to dwell. Instead, I try to remain positive. I don’t know what he’s going to say when he sees me. He could be cool about the whole situation. It’s highly unlikely, but it could happen.
I lock eyes with the receptionist, and I swear, I see a hint of sympathy in her eyes—or is that pity? That can’t be good.
The phone has been ringing off the hook since I got here ten minutes ago. She’s beyond professional and capable of her job. When the cab dropped me off here, and I had to crane my neck back to look at the whole building, I knew I was unprepared for what was inside. The building is in the middle of the financial district, and I may not know much about New York life, but I know enough to know that not just anyone can own a building here. Let alone build one so modernized that it stands out amongst the other ones. The modern décor inside is comprised of pristine marble with dark woods and furniture. Sleek and manly. Expensive. It is everything that makes me think of Callan.
The other night, Rosie explained to me that Callan owned his own architectural firm and was looking for an assistant. Over the years, it’s been an unspoken rule between Rose and me not to talk about Callan. No matter what. I didn’t want to know what he was doing with his life. I didn’t care if he was happy or not. Somehow, knowing the truth seemed like it would hurt more than it already did. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want the regret to seep in. The “what would’ve happened if I chose him?” or “what if he would’ve chosen me instead of Skylar?” I shake thoughts of him off, not ready to face my reality just yet.
Apparently, he owns the entire building, but she mentioned other floors are leased to other businesses. But of course, his firm is on the top two floors, overlooking the entire vibrant city beneath us.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I rode the elevator up, but it definitely wasn’t to come face-first with a bustling establishment. The receptionist was fielding calls left and right, all the while offering me beverages and biscuits. People came and went, some with appointments and others wanting appointments. It’s crazy to wrap my head around the fact that they’re all here to see Callan. The boy I grew up with.
The same boy who teased me relentlessly.
The same boy who taught me how to ride a bike.
The same boy who taught me how to kiss.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” My body tenses at the receptionist’s voice and the use of the name. Somehow, I always knew Fletcher wasn’t the right last name for me.
Why didn’t I do something sooner?
“He’s ready for you now, ma’am. Good luck.” She shoots me a smile, but it does nothing to subdue my nerves and the sudden bout of nausea. I push up to my feet, my legs trem
bling beneath me, threatening to give out on me at any moment. With shaking hands, I straighten my pencil skirt and run my hands over the silk blouse that’s tucked inside.
I follow her from the lobby seating area, past frosted glass-encased offices, all the way past a boardroom, to the biggest corner office of all. The glass is frosted, and the door is closed, just like the rest, but when she raps her knuckles, I hear his voice for the first time in years.
“Come in.”
Chills break out across my flesh. My heart wraps in a constricting vise.
I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily, trying to pull myself together before walking in. I can do this. It’s just Callan Reed. I have nothing to be afraid of.
I was so very wrong.
I had everything to be afraid of when it came to this man.
The second I step over the threshold, the air thickens, and I jerk to a halt. He’s sitting behind his desk, staring down at paperwork, unaware of my existence, but I can’t help the way my mind flashes back, sifting through memories.
I trudge along the sidewalk, walking aimlessly. It feels strange in my house. I have a new cousin slash roommate who isn’t at all what I thought she’d be like. She’s mean and bossy, and as much as I’d like to complain to my mother about it, I can’t. My mom is the whole reason she’s here.
“Why the long face, D?”
I startle at the sound of Callan’s voice. I hadn’t even heard him make a peep, which is just like him. He has a habit of sneaking up on you. “Just needed to get some air, I guess. Feels sort of…claustrophobic at home right now.”
He grunts. “I’m assuming it’s because of the cousin?”
“You’d assume right. I’m trying to stay positive and not let her get to me, but it’s almost as if she’s purposely trying to get beneath my skin. It’s like she wants me to be angry, and that’s just—”
“That’s just not who you are,” he finishes for me. Besides Rose, I don’t think anyone knows me better than Cal. I shoot him a sad smile, confirming I am, indeed, struggling with having my cousin in our lives, though I’d never tell my parents. “Look, I haven’t met her yet, but you’re Daisy Casillas. You can handle anything. I’ve seen it. Hell, I didn’t like you at first either, but you grew on me, didn’t you?” He nudges my side in jest, and I roll my eyes. I have to fight to keep the smile off my face.
