Marek

by Sawyer Bennett

  "Lilly, honey," Gracen says softly, and there's no hiding the quaver in her voice. She's scared to death, and I wish I could make it better for her, yet I don't know how. I also don't want to make it better for her. This is her bed she made, so I have some satisfaction in letting her lie in it. I'm a twisted fuck. "You know we're living here in Marek's house, right?"

  Lilly nods her head, her lips pursed solemnly as she watches her mom with utter trust.

  "Well," Gracen continues hesitantly. "This might be hard to understand, but Marek is actually your daddy."

  Lilly's head slowly turns and she looks at me. I can tell she doesn't understand. My heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest.

  "He's your daddy just the way I'm your mommy," Gracen continues. "The way Pop-Pop is my daddy, Marek is your daddy."

  Lilly just stares at Gracen and I'm not sure she's comprehending. Gracen's eyes slide over to me and I nod of reassurance. She's doing way better than I ever could.

  Gracen shifts a little in the chair, cuddles closer to Lilly. She reaches her arm around Lilly's back in a protective cocoon. "You see, Marek and I used to be very good friends. And we made you together out of a whole lot of love. So he's your daddy and I'm your mommy."

  Fuck. I swallow hard against the emotion. We made you from a whole lot of love.

  I lock my jaw down hard and grit my teeth against the feelings bombarding me. It all comes rushing back...just how much Gracen and I loved each other.

  My eyes focus on Lilly. Of all the questions I expect her to ask...

  Where has he been all this time?

  Why didn't you tell me before?

  Will we live here forever?

  Will he be my daddy now forever?

  Does he love me?

  She floors me when she looks at Gracen with the utmost seriousness and asks, "Are you going to marry him?"

  Gracen doesn't even look to me for guidance. Her answer is immediate and swift. "No, honey. Your daddy and I are only friends who both love you very much. We're both going to take care of you and help you to grow up to be such a big girl. And I know this is hard to understand, but I'm really sorry you didn't know he was your daddy before. Mommy should have told you a long time ago and it was wrong of me--"

  Okay, can't fucking stand that shit anymore. I cut in right over Gracen, making my voice heard for the first time since we sat down. I call her name to get her attention, "Lilly."

  Her head turns to me, blue eyes just like mine looking at me with some confusion but mostly an eagerness to understand. I have no clue if these words are right for her because I've never had a serious talk with a toddler before, but they seem right to me. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before. I had to go away and leave you and your mommy for my job. But we're together now and I will be a good daddy. I promise."

  Gracen's head turns away and she looks out the window. Her fingers rub against Lilly's lower back.

  "Your mommy and I are trying to get things figured out," I continue, since I have her attention. I figure she's understanding only about half my words, but I need to get them out. "But we both want you to be happy and we're going to work hard to make that so."

  At this point I'd cue dramatic music and Lilly would scramble off Gracen's lap to launch herself into my arms. I didn't realize I craved something like that until just this very moment. I can almost even hear the music in my ears, but then there's the proverbial sudden scratch of a needle on an album.

  Lilly turns to gaze at Gracen, who looks from the window back to her daughter with a bright smile even though I can tell it doesn't fully reach her eyes.

  "Mommy...can I watch some more Paw Patrol?" Lilly asks, and my jaw drops.

  Seriously? The kid just found out she has a daddy who's not going to be that douche Owen, and she wants to watch Paw Patrol?

  "Sure, baby," Gracen says, and pushes up out of the chair. She turns to set Lilly back down into it and grabs the remote to aim at the TV.

  I stand from the couch, watching as Lilly becomes completely engrossed in some stupid show where dogs drive fire trucks and fly helicopters.

  Gracen walks past me toward the kitchen, but I snag her elbow and pull her into the formal room.

  "What the hell--" I start to say, then realize that Lilly can probably hear me despite the fact I'm fiercely holding to a whisper level.

  I pull Gracen into my bedroom and shut the door.

  "What the hell?" I say again, this time in my normal voice. "You're just going to let her watch TV? What if she has questions? What if she doesn't understand what we just said to her? I mean, does she even really understand that I'm her father?"

  My hackles rise as Gracen's eyes pin me with what can only be deemed as pity. "Marek, she doesn't understand. She probably only picked up a minimum of that message. When and if she has questions, she'll ask them, and we need to be ready to answer."

  "If she only picked up a minimum, then we--"

  Gracen pulls her arm out of my hand. I hadn't realized I'd still been holding on to her. I jerk from the contact when she instead takes my hand and gives is a reassuring squeeze.

  "The conversation with her isn't over, but you'll learn this about Lilly and other three-year-olds," she advises me in a very patient, momlike voice. "Their attention span is that of a gnat. Her grasp of language is rudimentary, and we both probably said about twenty words to her she didn't even understand, daddy being one of them. It's a concept we'll have to teach her, and that will be through words and actions. For example, she may call you Marek. You need to correct her and have her call you Daddy, or whatever you want to be known as."

  "Daddy's good," I grumble, instantly knowing that she's right about this. But how could she not be? She's been a mom to Lilly far longer than I've been a dad, which technically has been all of five minutes.

  "Marek," Gracen says, and squeezes me once more before she lets go. "Lilly is super bright and inquisitive. She'll digest this. She'll have questions. We'll answer them. My best piece of advice to you is that now you need to get to know your daughter. Spend as much time as you can with her, because once the hockey season starts, that's going to cut into your time together."

  I nod dumbly, trying to figure out how to go about doing this. I wish I'd paid better attention to Lilly and Gracen while they've been in this house, because I'm not quite sure how to interact with my daughter.

  "Oh, and Marek," Gracen says softly.

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't tell her again that you had to go away for your job. Don't you dare take one ounce of the blame when she wants to know where you've been for three and a half years. That's mine alone to answer for."

  I don't even have time to respond. Gracen spins on her heel and walks out of my bedroom, leaving me feeling utterly alone and quite helpless as to what to do right now.

  Chapter 4

  Gracen

  I cover the ham with foil and place it in the oven. I've got homemade macaroni and cheese bubbling in the slow cooker and some broccoli steaming on the stove. I woke up this morning with a strong urge for a traditional home-cooked meal like my mom used to make, and I know that's nothing more than just a pure case of homesickness.

  It's Sunday, and when I was living with my parents, after church Mom would make a huge lunch for us that would provide enough food for us to eat throughout the day and evening--ham, pot roast or baked pork chops; sweet potato casseroles, baked beans, and rice pilaf; fresh vegetables from her garden in the summer or from her canned stock in the winter.

  And there'd always be a dessert: pies, cakes, or homemade ice cream.

  Sundays were my favorite day of the week when I was back in the modestly sized town of Wilkie, New York. Not only because of the food, but because the day was spent with just my parents and Lilly. Owen didn't go to church, and he didn't do family dinners either.

  At least not at the small, cheap dining table of Sheryl and Tim Moore.

  It was beneath him, although he would never come
out and say that. He always said he had to work or made some other equally lame excuse, and I let him.

  I let him because I didn't want him there, impeding on my family time with those I loved the most.

  I close the oven door, set the timer on my iPhone, and consider dessert for today. My eyes catch on movement outside the window over the sink and I can't help but smile as I watch Marek playing with Lilly. By playing, I mean she's walking around the yard and checking things out, picking flowers and such. He's following and watching. I can tell by his posture that he's totally ill at ease, but the smile on his face is genuine as he soaks her in. He has no clue what to do with Lilly, but I'm not too worried about it. She'll teach him soon enough.

  Yesterday's conversation was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. It's going to take some time for Lilly to get this, but she'll grow into the relationship with Marek. I'm sure she'll get there a lot more easily than he will.

  Last night as I was tucking her into bed, she said, "I like this house."

  I was expecting something like that. Not an overt question about learning Marek was her father, because that's also a concept she's going to have to figure out over time, but a roundabout way of poking to get a better grasp on things.

  "You like living here?" I asked her with a smile.

  Lilly nodded. "I like my bedroom. And I've got more toys here than back at Mimi and G-Pa's house."

  I snicker to myself. When Marek dumped us here and took off to the beach, I put his credit card to good use outfitting Lilly's room. I figured a professional hockey player had no limit on his credit, and thus I bought her a new bedroom set that was fit for a princess, plush bedding, fantastical pictures for the walls, and a shitload of toys, stuffed animals, and books. Marek never said a word to me about it.

  "Well, I'm not sure if we're going to stay here or not," I told Lilly. I didn't want her to see this as a permanent place for us, because my gut instinct said we should get our own home sooner rather than later. My only problem was that I didn't know how in the hell I was going to swing that without any income or savings.

  My iPhone--which I'm still holding in my hand as I look out the kitchen window--rings loudly, which startles me into almost dropping it. My lips break apart into a huge grin and I answer, "Hey, Mom. You and Dad just getting back from church?"

  Warm and comforting, my mother's voice fills me with peace. "We did, and I'm making a meat loaf for lunch. Just getting started and thought I'd give you a call first."

  Mmmm. I love my mom's meat loaf, and maybe I should make it this week.

  "How are things going?" she asks, her voice dropping an octave with built-in mom concern. She's not worried about my safety, or Lilly's for that matter. She's not worried that I'm plunged into a new world five hundred miles from the comfort of home. In fact, I'm sure she was so relieved I wasn't marrying Owen, she'd have almost sent me to the doorstep of hell, as that would have been preferable to Owen in her mind.

  No, my mom is worried about Marek making me suffer for my past sins. After five years of our hard-core dating, my mom knows Marek almost as well as I do. He spent as much time at our house as he did at his own. But then again, I spent a hell of a lot of time at his parents' house too. They are amazing and I missed them the way I missed Marek when he left.

  "Things are fine," I tell my mom, but then again, Marek could be beating me and I wouldn't worry her with it. She's done enough worrying about me over the last few years and deserves a break. "We told Lilly last night that he's her daddy."

  "What did she say?"

  "Not much. I think she gets it somewhat, but it will be a process."

  "I miss my Lilly Bug," my mom says wistfully. "I miss you too, of course."

  My laugh is soft and sad. "We miss you a lot."

  "Will you be staying there?" she asks, trying to hide the tiny sniffle on the end of her question.

  "At least until I can help Lilly understand who Marek is and give him an opportunity to solidify a relationship. I owe him that at least."

  "Oh, honey," my mom murmurs into the phone, and her sympathy makes my eyes water. "You did what you thought was best at the time and with the information you had. I think it's time to stop beating yourself up over it."

  I cough to clear my throat and change the subject to something that's even more depressing to me than thinking of all the ways I've wronged Marek. "Have you heard from Owen?"

  My mom gives an exasperated harrumph sound. "He's been by twice."

  It never crossed my mind that Owen would go by to check on my parents to see how they're doing, because Owen would never do that in a million years. The only reason he would go by is if it benefits him, because he's selfish that way.

  "Wants to know where your head is at and if you're coming home," my mom continues, her disdain for Owen evident.

  "And you told him exactly what I told you to tell him, right?" I ask her.

  "I did. That I didn't think you'd be there long and hoped to have you back within a few weeks. He seemed satisfied with that."

  I let out a tiny sound of temporary relief. As long as he stays off my parents' backs for a while, it will give me time to figure out what to do.

  Owen Waller is the biggest mess I've ever made of my life. I don't love him and never did. I did, however, rely on him for reasons that were far more important than my happiness. What started out as a casual dating relationship because he seemed so damned charming at first snowballed into a situation where I didn't have any way out but to marry him.

  "Don't come back, Gracen," my mom says quietly but urgently into the phone. "I know you think you are obligated to marry Owen, but you're not. I promise you you're not."

  I avoid committing to anything one way or the other. "Well, it's not something we have to worry about right now. I'm going to worry about Lilly for now, and I'll deal with the fallout from Owen when I can."

  "Is he contacting you?"

  "We've chatted via text." I keep it vague with my mom, as I don't want her to know the anxiety he's been causing me. He's been vacillating between being overly concerned and sweet to practically threatening. Of course he wants me to come back. He still wants to marry me, and he'll use the leverage he has over me soon enough. He's texting several times a day, and so far I've been keeping him at bay with promises that I need to get the situation with Marek and Lilly resolved before I can come back.

  That's the only thing keeping Owen satisfied right now. He knows Lilly is and always will be my main priority, even over Owen and keeping my parents secure. He knows not to push me too hard on that, but I know there will come a day when he'll get tired of waiting. I just hope I get my shit straight with Marek before then and have a decent game plan that will get me out of the situation with Owen.

  The side door that leads from the laundry room out to the side yard opens, jolting me out of my thoughts. I blink and realize the yard is empty.

  I turn just as Lilly runs into the kitchen. "Look, Mommy. I picked you some flowers."

  Lilly holds out a fistful of dandelions in her tiny hand. My heart melts, as it's often prone to do anytime Lilly is around me. I couldn't have asked for a sweeter, more thoughtful child if I'd tried.

  "Those are gorgeous, Lilly," I tell her as I squat down in front of her. I pull her in for a quick hug and she nuzzles into my neck. God, I love that.

  My eyes catch on Marek walking into the kitchen. His expression is neutral as he watches our interchange.

  When I pull away, I take the flowers. "Let's put them in a glass with some water."

  "Okay, Mommy," she says brightly, and follows me to the sink. "I picked them, but Marek showed them to me."

  I reach a hand out and touch Lilly's cheek. "How about you call him Daddy or Dad? Okay? It's nicer than calling him by his first name."

  "Okay," she chirps in an overly agreeable voice. "I like Daddy better. Sounds like Mommy."

  Turning slightly, I look at Marek. Again, his face is inscrutabl
e as he stares at Lilly. But then she turns to look at him, and he instantly slides a smile on and levels it straight at her.

  "I like Daddy," he tells her, his voice a little gruff. "Has a nice ring to it."

  Lilly puts a finger to her mouth and lowers her eyes shyly. She's a people pleaser, but sometimes doesn't know how to handle praise. It's because she never does something just for affirmation in return. She's just a sweet kid who likes to do and say nice things.

  Ruffling Lilly's hair, I turn to grab a small glass from the cupboard. "I'm going to make a pie, Lilly Bug. Want to help me?"

  "I do, I do," she says exuberantly. Every Sunday she would always help my mom make dessert, and now it looks like that tradition will carry on with me for the time being.

  After I fill the glass with water and add the pathetic little yellow flowers--probably the most beautiful flowers I've ever received--I take Lilly by the hand. "Let's go upstairs and get washed up first."

  As we walk past Marek, I tell him, "The ham will be ready in about an hour."

  He stares at me a moment, his handsome face once again a mask of nothingness. No clue what he's thinking.

  I wait for perhaps a grateful smile that I cooked, or even an acknowledgment that he appreciates my gentle reminder to Lilly that he is more than just Marek to her now.

  Instead, his eyes turn aloof and icy. "I'm actually headed out to a Labor Day party at a teammate's house."

  The words are ambiguous, but his tone is not. He's giving me a pointed reminder that I'm nothing more to him than a houseguest taking up some space. I tense up, ashamed of myself that I could possibly think that things might have warmed slightly between us given that we now have a common bond and goal with Lilly.

  "No problem," I say lightly as I turn away from him, taking Lilly gently by the shoulders and pushing her toward the staircase.

  "Can I talk to you a minute?" he asks, but let's be honest, it's a command.

  I bend over, whisper in Lilly's ear. "Go on up to your room and I'll be there in a minute."

  Lilly nods and heads up the stairs, her little legs taking one step at a time as she holds on to the railing. My parents' house is a single-story bungalow and I remember being so worried when we came to Marek's that Lilly would fall down them. She's mastered them, though, like a champ.