by Emilia Finn
“I’m sorry.” I laugh. “My point was that we were so caught up in ourselves that we didn’t give a shit about the consequences.”
“And Lyssa…” she murmurs quietly. “She was the consequence?”
I nod. “I love my daughter more than I love my life. But fuck, she wasn’t part of our plan. When we found out, we panicked for a minute. Or, well, I did. But Karla, she was skilled at rolling with the punches. Add in the fact that, young or not, having a baby is something that garners attention. Her mom damn near lost her mind when we told her, but I was sticking. I was never gonna ditch, so we provided a united front, talked her mom around, and suddenly, it was exciting as hell. Baby shower, baby gear, baby, baby, baby. Karla was still the sole recipient of my attention, but now she was getting attention from everyone else too. They say a pregnant mom glows, but I honestly wonder if her glow was hormones, or attention.”
I look to Brooke. Flatten my lips. “That’s mean of me to say, but I can’t let it go. Nine months, perfect pregnancy, and then we were in the delivery room. Alyssa arrived in the middle of the night, perfect and healthy, if not a little small. And thirty or so hours later, they were discharged, and we went home to the apartment I was pulling double and triple shifts to afford. The apartment wasn’t expensive, but diapers, formula, clothes… that shit adds up. All of those people that were so excited about the pregnancy flittered away pretty quick. Soon after that – it took less than a week for us to notice – Lyss wasn’t tolerating breastmilk well. Karla tried, but Lyss was getting sicker and sicker. Her butt was raw from whatever she did manage to eat running straight through her system. Turns out she’s got an infinite number of allergies, and the things Karla ate were hurting her. Instead of adapting her diet, which, for a couple years, I considered selfish and shitty, she insisted on formula.”
“You thought Karla’s refusal to change her diet was shitty?”
I shrug. “I used to. I was angry, because the formula Lyss needed was expensive, so I was pulling all of these shifts to afford it, and then coming home to being bitched out because I worked too much. It was a cycle I felt she had the power to break.”
“And now?”
“Now…” I sigh. “I realize I was being a dick when I suggested it.” I swallow the taste of guilt. “And when I say ‘suggest,’ I mean I shouted it at her mid-argument. We were tearing each other apart on a daily basis, we were both angry at the other, so on one of the days after I got home, she picked at me for something, so I picked right back. Now… I realize a few things. One being that she created our baby with her body. She’d already sacrificed so much. Expecting her to continue doing that was shitty. Second, the things Lyss requires, the things she can tolerate… it wasn’t fair to expect Karla to change her diet so drastically when I didn’t, when I wouldn’t. Add in the fact that formula was science-based and the best thing for our daughter under the circumstances; it was the right choice for us, and I should have sucked it up.”
“You were tired and overworked. It’s okay to make mistakes.”
I nod. “I know. And I’ve found my peace over it now. I see my faults in our relationship. Alyssa, back away from the water!”
Brooke jumps against me when I shout, then narrows her eyes as the sun sinks further and further in the sky and makes it harder to see.
“Sorry, Daddy!”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the smile she brings to my face.
“It was a hard time,” I continue for Brooke. “And I made mistakes. We both did. But I honestly couldn’t survive without Lyss anymore. She’s a part of me, a part of my very soul. So whatever happened with me and Karla, I’ll always be thankful for Lyss.”
“Where is she now?” she whispers.
“Karla?” I shrug. “Last I heard, she’d found her party, her fame. She’s hooking up with this rock band as they tour the country.”
“You mean, like, the singer or something?”
I laugh. “No, I’m fairly certain she spreads her talents evenly amongst the group. But whatever. That’s her prerogative. I don’t judge people because of how they spend their time in bed.”
“She doesn’t call you at all?”
I shake my head. “I literally have not spoken to her since she left for the store to buy diapers and formula. We were fighting, we were always fighting, but she said she’d be back in a bit… she never came back.”
Brooke pulls away, and stares into my eyes with horror in hers. “You must’ve been so worried.”
I consider that. “I was worried enough to go see her mom, then the cops. They took me in for questioning, since our neighbors always heard us fight. It was the logical assumption. They kept me for twenty-four hours, they took my baby away and placed her with CPS for the night. But I never hurt my girlfriend. I never once laid a hand on her. Eventually they believed me, they let me go, and I was able to get Lyss back. After that, we just… went home. Lorna was up my ass every day. A mother’s worry, of course, since we still didn’t know where Karla was. She needed me, she needed Lyss, and God knows, I needed her. I still had to work, otherwise we’d be in the streets with no food and no diapers. A week or so after she walked, Karla called home. She might have been a mom, but she was also a minor. Amber alerts went up, her face was plastered on the news. She must’ve seen, or maybe someone told her. I don’t know, but she called home and told her mom she was fine.”
“She didn’t call you?”
I shake my head. “She didn’t want to speak to me. Which…” Now I nod. “Yeah, it stung. We argued a lot, but she was still a girl I loved. At one point, at least, I loved her. It hurt that she’d run, and that she’d refuse to speak to me.”
“What was her reason for leaving?”
“She didn’t wanna do it anymore. She didn’t want to be a mom. She didn’t want that to be her only identity anymore. She was ‘destined for more,’ she said. And Lyss,” I pause, watch the flashing shoes, and lower my voice, “Karla said that Lyss was a mistake.” I smile when Brooke hisses her anger. “She said that she didn’t want us anymore.”
“Bitch.”
I shrug. “It’s better that she walk, isn’t it, rather than lose her temper and do something to our baby that can’t be fixed? It took me a few years to come to that conclusion, but once I did, once I realized how truly selfless her actions had been at the end of the day, I was able to accept it easier. She didn’t want us, and we didn’t really want someone like that anyway.”
“That’s…” She draws a deep breath through her nose, lets it out again. “A glass-half-full conclusion.”
I snort. “Guess so. Maybe. But it’s better than being mad all the time. And really, what do I have to be mad about? The fact I get to live my life with my sweet baby girl? I’m not mad. I’m thankful.”
“Do you think maybe… You said she was the life of the party, all of that attention, the craziness and fun, and then she was lonely and alone all day with a baby while you worked. Do you think—”
“Post-partum depression?” I nod. “Yes, I think so. Which also helped me move on from my anger. It’s not her fault. She couldn’t control her feelings, her hormones.”
“Women suffer from PPD every single day in this country, Miles. She could control it. She could have asked for help, gone to a doctor, gotten meds that would have helped smooth things out.”
“But you’re missing the point; I’m happy with how it’s worked out. I get Lyss, I get zero interference from a parent that doesn’t want to be here. And Lorna… well, she tries to meddle. But we have a whole heap of distance between us now. She can chat with Lyss every now and then, but I get to supervise, and when they hang up, she’s gone again, and no longer my problem. Karla is alive and healthy, she’s happy, and she’s not my problem either.”
“Damn you and your glass-half-full.”
I laugh. “Would you rather I call her up? Ask her to the lake for chicken and pie? Maybe we could rekindle our old flames, and you can babysit our daughter so we can have a
minute alone.”
“Absolutely not.” Losing her scowl, and replacing it with a wicked grin, Brooke hooks a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer until our lips barely feather apart. “I’ve got dibs now. I wanna see how we do, and there is zero room for her when you and I are in the same room.”
“That’s what I figured.”
I slide my lips over hers, and sigh when she opens up for me. Her tongue darts out to play just like it did the first time, and her hand tightens when I return tongue for tongue. She turns into me, rests on a hip, and when she’s not done, hitches a leg onto my thighs, and half straddles me in the waning light.
Lyss’ laughter plays in the almost darkness, along with her chatter while she chases ducks, so I close my eyes for a moment and sink into Brooklyn Kincaid like I’ve waited my whole life to do so.
I offloaded a decade of baggage, shared it with her, and wasn’t afraid to speak of my own faults. And amazingly, she listened, she accepted, and she still wants me.
Fuck if that isn’t a miracle in itself.
Her breath tastes of apple pie, but it may as well be centuries-old liquor for how fast it goes to my head and makes me dizzy. I drop my hand to her bare thigh, her dress having ridden up, only to slide up and explore her panties. They’re cheeky, lacy, and skimpy enough to remind me I’ve been laid only twice in six years.
My breath comes out on a groan that she swallows down with ease, and her hand gets tighter on the back of my neck, more demanding as she tries to pull me impossibly closer.
“We’re in public,” I pant. “Dammit, Brooklyn. We’re in public, and Lyss is twenty feet away.”
“I know.” She pants just as much as I do. “Jesus, I know. Ever had sex on the first date before?”
I breathe out a fast laugh that surely burns straight down her throat. “Considering this is my first real date, I’m yet to know the answer to that.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?” My voice cracks, but at least the darkness shields us. “What’s up?”
“Why do cats and dogs have tails, but apes don’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daddy?”
Brooke buries her face against my chest and smothers her laugh.
“Did you know slugs have four noses?”
“Nope.”
“Did you know kangaroos can’t fart?”
I drop my hand out from beneath us and drop to the ground. “Fuck.”
“Daddy?”
“No, baby, I didn’t know that kangaroos can’t fart!”
“It’s true,” she singsongs. “Miss Parker told me so.”
Her voice grows louder, and when I peek up, her lights flash and move in our direction, so I fix Brooke’s dress and position us in a much more respectable way.
“Hey, Daddy? Oh.” She stops right beside me, and stands over us with a gentle frown and hands on her hips. “You sleepy, Miss Brooke?”
“Uh huh.” Brooke lies right to my daughter’s face, and fakes a loud, obnoxious yawn. “So tired, Lyssy-Poo. Are you ready for bed?”
“Can we make a wish on a star first?”
Miles
Rendezvous
I pull up to the gates of the Kincaid estate, and groan when Brooke flashes her security card over the sensor before I can use mine. It’s not a huge deal, everyone knows she’s with me. But scanning her card – by leaning over me and smiling for the security camera – is an extra level of sass I’m not sure I can back up if they step forward to put me on my ass.
And they will. I’m certain they will.
“Brooke,” I growl. “Sit down.”
But instead of complying, she giggles and palms dangerously close to my dick as she crawls back to her seat and I roll through the opening gates.
“Daddy? Can we watch a movie before bed?”
“No, baby. It’s late and time for bed.”
“But it’s the weekend,” she whines.
“And it’s still way past your weekend bedtime. Bed, baby. No exceptions.”
Brooke turns to me and grins. “I’ll help you unload the car before I head home. Pull into the garage if you want. Then we can use the internal door to cart the cooler and stuff in.”
“Mm.” That’s all she gets. A grunt from the sexually frustrated man that might never get to finish what this girl started two years ago when she first smiled for me.
I hit the garage button attached to my keys, turn into my driveway, and idle for a moment as the sparsely used garage door slides open. “Did you have fun tonight, baby?”
Lyss chills in her seat in the back, with her doll clutched tight to her chest, and her hands wound around and back through the seatbelt so she can almost give herself a hug.
She’s asking for a movie, but she’s wiped out. I should have said yes, because she’ll be asleep in five minutes regardless.
Her eyelids are heavy, her lips pouty, but she still manages a grin. “I had so much fun. I got to eat pie tonight, Daddy.”
“I know.” I accelerate forward once the garage is fully open, and slowly move into the dark space so my headlights reflect off the back wall and blind us. “It was good pie too, huh?”
“Mmhmm.” She rubs her belly and blinks owlishly; slowly, wide open, then closed. “It was so good. Do we have leftovers?”
“None in the cooler, baby. But Miss Brooke said there’s a whole tray at the diner, so we’ll drop by tomorrow and buy it.”
“Okay.” Sleepy, she turns her head a little to the side and sighs.
She’s three seconds from dropping out.
“Stay awake for a second, baby. Daddy will take you to bed.”
“It’s okay,” Brooke whispers. As soon as I cut the engine, she pushes her door open and moves to Lyss’. “Can I take her up?” She works on Lyss’ seatbelt even before I can answer.
“To bed?”
Leaning over my daughter, she gently – like she’s a bomb that needs precision movements – feeds her arms through the straps. “Uh huh. Her room is upstairs, I imagine. Your house and mine are laid out exactly the same, so it won’t be hard to figure out which is hers.”
“But…” I unsnap my belt, and hate the slash of guilt that slides through my stomach. “That’s my job.”
Silently laughing, she pulls a half-asleep Lyss from her chair and maneuvers her carefully so she doesn’t bump her head. “You’re allowed to share sometimes, ya know?”
She pulls Lyss up, and immediately, Lyss’ arms go around Brooke’s neck, her legs around Brooke’s hips, and her cheek on Brooke’s shoulder. The doll hangs between them, and I stand on the other side of the car… redundant.
“Don’t look like that, Miles.” She walks around to my side of the car and sidles up so I get to hug them both. “I’m not taking her from you. I’m just…” She shrugs. “Asking to be included. But if it’s a big no, then that’s cool too.” She leans into me, this time presenting a way for me to take Lyss for myself. “Your call, Daddy. It’s always your call.”
“It’s okay.” I lean in and press a kiss to Lyss’ forehead. And when that’s not enough, I press a second and a third, and I hold them both close enough that Lyss groans from being squished. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”
“Love you,” Lyss mumbles. “Night, Daddy.”
“Goodnight, princess. Do you need to pee?”
“Nuh uh.”
Brooke snickers. “We’ll discuss it some more on the way up, but if she doesn’t go, is it the end of the world?”
I shake my head. “No, she’ll be fine.”
“Alright, back in a sec. I’ll help you unload the car before I leave.”
I watch them pass through the internal door and into the kitchen. The house is dark, as is the garage, but she turns a light on in the kitchen, so it spills out and covers a couple feet of the garage floor.
On timer, and a sensor, I suppose, to make sure the car has passed, the garage door slowly begins to lower behind me. Silent, zero squeaks, it rolls
down and seals me in the almost pitch blackness. So I head to the trunk of my car and open the door.
Station wagons are not cool. On no planet, in no time frame, has a station wagon ever been cool, but they’re practical. Spacious for a small family, and this particular model, reliable for a dad that needed something he could rely on.
I raise the back door and bend at the back when it’s up, then I reach in for the leftover food. Empty soda cans roll around in the cooler, and the soft bang of the cutlery and plastic plates joins it. But I get everything in one load, straighten my back, and head into the house to put it all away.
Lyss may have been tired, but she gave into bedtime easier because she didn’t want to help unload the car. She’s sneaky like that. And no kid in the history of ever has wanted to help unload a car after a fun day out.
I slide the box of chicken into the fridge and shut the door before I take a leg and make a pig of myself. Then I set the cooler on the counter and contemplate emptying it out, but soft whispers upstairs make me pause.
I strain my ears, trying to listen when it’s not really my business. But then what I thought were whispers turn out to be a song.
Brooke is singing for my baby, and it makes me realize that she’s never had that. Lyssa has never had someone sing her to sleep. Not even me, because it simply never occurred to me.
I admit to not being a perfect dad. I was thrust into the job with no experience, no training, and no supervisor to catch me before I made mistakes. I admit that, sometimes, I flat out suck as a dad, and this, right now, while Brooke gives my daughter another gift – first was the pie – I realize that I dropped the ball when it comes to nighttime routine.
We have our own routine, of course. And it’s special in its own way. But now she gets a woman singing to her, a good woman, so I stand by the kitchen counter and listen. I absorb the sound, the love that Brooke gives a little girl she doesn’t have to love, and, closing my eyes, I rewrite my “failure” of not singing for Lyss, and replace it with this win.
I found a woman, a kind, beautiful, smart and sassy woman who sings for Lyss.
