Chapter 11
I’m afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. Not for me, but for Lily. Afraid of what it will mean to involve Oren in her life, to invite the chaos that he brings with him—the hockey schedule, the unpredictability of his world, puck bunnies, travel, him never settling down, all of it. His lifestyle has always been about freedom, living fast, no strings attached. I’ve spent every minute since I brought Lily home from the hospital building a quiet, controlled life for her, away from all of that. And now… now I don’t know what will happen.
There is also this lingering fear of how much he affects me, too. The way my heart races when I see him, how my thoughts tangle when he’s near. All while he barely even seems to notice me. I’m just a problem he’s been saddled with. I can’t afford to let fear win. I can’t succumb to the anxiety that threatens to swallow me whole. I’ve got better things to be concerned about.
I make the most of our last night in Charlotte. I order myself room service—a decadent meal of loaded mac and cheese, a salad for health, and a slice of chocolate cake to top it all off. After Lily is fed, I let her entertain herself while I eat. It’s just us, no one else. The way it used to be. No pressure, no secrets, no fear. Once we leave this hotel, everything changes. I just hope that I am strong enough to handle it. The night stretches on, quiet and comforting, and I decide that no matter what happens, I’m going to protect this peace for her. Tonight, we’re okay. Tonight, we’re more than okay. We’re everything. And nothing, not even Oren, can take that away from us.
The next morning, we fly back to Atlanta, and nothing about it goes smoothly. I wake up feeling like I’ve barely slept and I drag myself out of bed. That’s when the real challenges begin. Getting myself, our luggage, and Lily ready for the airport feels like an impossible feat. All while keeping one eye on Lily, who has somehow managed to throw her pacifier across the room. Again.
By the time we get to the cab, I’m sweating, and my arms ache from carrying our bags while I awkwardly maneuver our suitcase and Lily in the stroller. Attempting to keep Lily from crying, I can feel the stares of the other hotel guests, some sympathetic, some annoyed. I keep my head down, focused on getting us to the cab, trying to ignore the whispers around me. The ride is a blur of stop-and-go traffic and my mind races with the possibility of potentially missing our flight. My phone buzzes.
Oren: Just checking in,
are you and Lily back
in Atlanta?
Rachel: No, trying to get
to the airport, can’t chat.
I feel another wave of anxiety wash over me. I can’t think about that now. I have to get us to the airport, get through security, get home. While standing in the line for security, I realize I underestimated how hard this would be. Shoes on, shoes off, trying to keep an eye on Lily, who’s now fussing and squirming in my arms. I shove our bags onto the conveyor belt, hoping I haven’t forgotten to remove any liquids that might trigger an alarm. Finally, we make it to the gate, and I think the worst is over. But I am quick, sure, and wrong. I swear the trip here was not this bad.
The flight home is nothing short of a nightmare. The moment we board the plane, Lily starts to cry—loud, piercing wails that turn heads and draw irritated glances from the other passengers. Her cries grow louder, more insistent, and I can feel my own anxiety rising with every passing minute. I want to melt into the seat, disappear from all the judging eyes around me. I know they’re thinking I’m some incompetent mom who can’t even soothe her own child, but they don’t know me or her. Lily’s tired, she’s cranky, and nothing is working.
By the time we land in Atlanta, I’m exhausted, every muscle in my body aching, my nerves shot to hell. I’m helpless, defeated, as I try to fight back tears of my own. I want to scream, to cry with her, to let it all out. But I can’t. I have to hold it together, for her, for me.
As promised, my phone buzzes with a call from Oren as if he just knows we’re home and I’m at my wits end. I hesitate, staring at the screen, I can’t ignore it. I take a deep breath and answer, my voice tight and controlled. “Hi, Oren.”
“Hey, Rachel,” he says, and I hear the uncertainty in his tone. “Is Lily… is she awake? Can I talk to her?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, she’s here.” I put the phone on speaker and lean in closer to Lily, who’s getting comfortable in her rocker. After the travel time, she is in desperate need of a nap.
Oren’s voice softens, and I can hear the awkwardness, the hesitation in his words. “Hey there, Lily… it’s… it’s Daddy.”
He stumbles over the word, like it’s foreign, like he’s not sure it fits him. I fight back a laugh because Lily stares at the phone, her expression curious, confused. She still smiles at the sound of his voice, innocent giggles bubbling up from her chest.
As she starts to fall asleep, I stumble through the conversation, awkward and unsure. There’s this distance that feels like it could swallow us whole. I hear him try to find the right words, like he’s afraid of saying too much or too little.
I clear my throat, deciding to share something, anything, to break the awkwardness. “The flight back was… horrible,” I admit, letting out a tired sigh. “Lily cried the whole time. I tried everything to calm her down. She finally settled down when we got home. I think she’s just relieved to be back.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I wonder if I’m oversharing. But then he responds, his voice softer. “I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine how tough that must have been… for both of you.”
“It was… rough,” I say, feeling the awkwardness creeping back in.
I give up, letting the silence stretch between us. I can hear him breathing on the other end, like he’s searching for something to say, anything to bridge the gap. He finally breaks the quiet.
“Alright, well… I’ll let you go,” he says, his voice resigned. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow?”
“Yeah… sure. Tomorrow,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodbye, Rachel,” he says softly.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur of exhaustion. After the call with Oren, my nerves are shot, and I’m trying to hold it together, but Lily is having none of it. She’s overtired and difficult, squirming in my arms, refusing to settle down. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to find a calm center, but it seems to be lost forever.
First it's a bottle, then it's a soothing lavender bath. Each time it looks like it might be working, but as soon as I think we’ve turned a corner, she starts crying again, her face red and angry and her tiny fists flailing. I feel like I’m failing, like I can’t do anything right. I’m running on fumes and she’s still fussing. I’m just starting to lay her down in her crib when there’s a knock at the door. My heart sinks, and I glance at the clock. Ziggy. Of course. I forgot she was coming over. For a brief moment, I consider pretending I’m not home. But that’s not fair, not to her, not after everything.
“Hold on, little goose,” I whisper to Lily, gently placing her in the crib, even though she’s still awake. I hurry to the door, trying to smooth my hair and wipe away the stress and frustration written all over my face.
Ziggy bursts in with her usual energy, concern etched on her face. “So, spill,” she demands the moment she steps inside. “What happened in Charlotte?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze on me, scrutinizing every inch of my face, and I know she’s not going to let this go easily.
“Hold on,” I say, buying myself a few moments. “Let me just check on Lily.”
I slip away before she can press further, moving quickly down the hall to Lily’s room. I peek inside, holding my breath, and find her finally, blessedly, asleep. I tiptoe out of the room, careful not to make any noise that might wake her, and close the door softly behind me. But the moment I turn around, I see Ziggy standing there, arms still crossed, a worried look on her face.
I walk back to the living room, taking a deep breath, and sit down on the couch. Ziggy sits beside me, her expression still serious. “So,” she says again, softer this time, “what the hell happened? Your texts made it seem like something major went down.”
I bite my lip, and begin slowly, trying to find the right words. “I went there to cover the game, and everything was fine until… until I saw him.”
“Him? Him, who?,” Ziggy repeats, leaning forward slightly. “Wait….Lily’s father?”
I nod. “Yeah. There at the hotel. The last place I expected to see him. And… he saw me with Lily.”
Ziggy’s eyes are as big as saucer plates. “Oh my god. What did he say?”
“He asked if she was his,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. I look down at my hands, twisting them nervously in my lap. “And I couldn’t lie to him. I told him the truth.”
“And?” Ziggy presses.
I shrug, feeling the knot tighten in my stomach. “He… he was shocked, obviously. Hurt, definitely? But said he wants to be involved in her life. To be a father to her.”
Ziggy nods slowly, digesting this information. “And how do you feel about that?”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know, Ziggy. I’m scared. I’ve worked so hard to build this life for Lily, to keep things stable and quiet. I don’t know what it means to have him in her life… what it could mean for us.”
Ziggy’s face softens, and she reaches out to touch my arm gently. “Rachel, you don’t have to do this alone. But you also don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just… take it one step at a time. See if he’s serious.”
“I know,” I murmur, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “But what if he’s not? What if he just… disappears. I don’t want to get Lily’s hopes up. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Ziggy frowns. “Rach, she’s still so little. She doesn’t understand any of this yet. It’s you I’m worried about. Don’t let him jerk you around and get hurt either.”
I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I don’t want to let him in, Ziggy. I don’t. But… he’s her father. He deserves a chance.”
Ziggy lets out a slow breath, thinking. “Maybe, but I don’t get why he’s so shocked and hurt by seeing her in person. That ship sailed when he wasn’t around while you were pregnant.”
“About that,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I never told him I was pregnant.”
“WHAT?! But, you,” Ziggy starts.
“I know, I know,” I cut her off. “I lied, I suck, I know. I just… I didn’t know how to handle any of this. So, in a lot of ways I did it poorly.”
“Oh, Rachel,” Ziggy squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know all the answers yet. But you do need to give yourself a little grace, okay? You’re a great mom, Rachel. You’re doing everything you can for Lily. And whatever happens, you’ll find a way to make it work. I know you will.”
I nod again, feeling a bit of the weight lift from my shoulders, despite the uncertainty. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I just… I needed to hear that.”
Ziggy smiles softly. “I’m always here, you know that. And I’ll be here every step of the way, no matter what. Seriously, Rachel… You’re not alone in this.”
Ziggy pulls me into a tight hug, and I feel a surge of gratitude. I don’t know what the future holds with Oren, but at least I know I have someone in my corner, someone who will be there no matter what. And for tonight, that’s enough.
The next day, I’m due back at work, and for a moment, it feels like everything is slipping back into its usual rhythm. I throw myself into my segments, bury myself in meetings, trying to keep my mind off everything that happened in Charlotte. I keep my head down, focus on the work, and pretend like nothing has changed. But deep down, I can feel the peace starting to slip away, like sand slipping through my fingers.