18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Brody
I can’t help but pace my office like a caged animal, fists clenched, jaw tight. My gaze darts to the phone on my desk for the hundredth time, but it’s silent: no missed calls, no messages.
Tasha’s gone, just like that.
She left in the dead of night, leaving nothing behind but that damn letter for Gemma and the borrowed dress folded neatly on her bed.
How could she walk away so easily? How could she leave without even giving me a chance to explain, to make things right?
I can’t get the image out of my mind: me walking back to the table with Josh after our conversation, the three of us waiting for her to return from the bathroom.
But she never came back.
I’ve called her God knows how many times.
Gemma called too, trying to help.
Still, nothing.
The hostess confirmed she left, a soft look of pity in her eyes when she realized who we were asking about.
“She seemed upset,” she had told me.
Last night, sleep was out of the question.
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every look, wondering where it all went wrong.
I can’t stop thinking about her, about us.
We hadn’t even had a proper conversation about the baby yet.
Hell, we were barely starting to figure out what we were when she just…vanished.
I keep dialing her number, every ring that goes unanswered fraying my nerves apart even further. The thought of her alone, somewhere out there, pregnant and scared…it eats me alive.
I feel like a complete failure. I’ve tried to handle things the way I thought was best, but now I’m realizing I’ve been blind, oblivious to how lost she must’ve felt.
I’m supposed to have my shit together. I’m supposed to be the reliable one. But I can’t fix this if she won’t even let me in.
Worry twists in my gut, clawing at me from the inside out.
Every hour that passes without a word from her feels like a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up in our faces.
I’ve been through plenty of storms in my life: divorce, business downturns, crises that would’ve broken lesser men.
Nothing has ever made me feel this out of control, this desperate.
The day drags by in a haze of monotony; meetings, emails, phone calls, but it’s all just white noise.
I drown myself in work, hoping it’ll dull the edge of my thoughts, but nothing stops Tasha’s disappearance from ringing in my mind.
This office feels cold and sterile, lifeless without her presence.
Tasha was more than just my assistant; she was the steadiness to my chaos, the person who kept me grounded when everything else spun out of control.
Now that she’s gone, it’s like I’m operating on autopilot without a guidance system.
I miss her sharp wit, the way she’d roll her eyes when I was being an ass, the sound of her laugh that would sneak out even when she tried to hide it. I miss her.
My desk is covered with paperwork, piles of folders, and contracts I should’ve reviewed hours ago, but I can’t focus on anything.
All I can think about is Tasha, the way her eyes would light up when she was passionate about something. The way she’d look at me, like maybe, just maybe, I could be the man she needed.
If she could just bring herself to trust me.
My phone’s chime breaks through my thoughts, and I scramble to grab it, my heart pounding.
Finally, a message.
It’s from Tasha.
You can stop calling. I’m gone. Move on with your life.
The words hit me like a punch to the jaw.
I’m reeling, my fingers shaking as I type back, desperate for more than just that.
Where are you? Just tell me where you are.
Vegas.
Where in Vegas?
And then nothing.
Josh barges into my office, the door swinging open without so much as a knock. “Dad, let’s get lunch,” he says, a bright smile plastered on his face.
I’m staring at my phone, willing it to light up again, but it stays dark. There are no more messages coming through.
“Not today, Josh. I’ve got too much on my plate.”
“Come on, Dad. You need a break. Let’s just get some air. It’ll do you good.”
Finally, I relent, pushing back from my desk with a heavy sigh.
“Fine, but let’s make it quick.”
The cold air bites at my face as we step outside. The city feels darker today, the wind cutting through my coat, every breath stinging like I’m inhaling ice.
Holiday decorations hang in the windows of shops, twinkling lights, and sales signs screaming that Christmas is just around the corner. The streets are lined with bare trees, their branches skeletal against the overcast sky.
We walk toward a small sandwich shop we like to frequent, a deep silence hanging between us. I catch glimpses of families bustling past, the excitement of the holidays in the air.
For me, it’s all hollow. Tasha’s absence is a void I can’t fill. The thought of having Christmas without her…I realize now just how much I was beginning to rely on her emotionally.
Stepping into the warmth of the shop, the smell of fresh bread and coffee hits me, but it only reminds me of everything I’ve lost.
The place hasn’t changed in years. I smile down at the same black-and-white checkered floors, scuffed from the boots of construction workers who come in for a quick bite. The walls are adorned with framed photos of old Chicago: the skyline in sepia, workers balanced precariously on steel beams, smiling in the face of danger.
There’s sports memorabilia everywhere—old Blackhawks jerseys, Cubs pennants, and a signed Michael Jordan poster fading in the corner.
Josh starts chatting about something, probably work, maybe Gemma, but I’m not listening.
All I can think about is the text, the way she shut me out.
The woman I love is slipping through my fingers, and I have no idea how to stop it.
She’s slipping away with my baby across the country.
We step up to the counter, where a bored-looking cashier waits, scribbling something on a notepad.
Josh orders his usual Italian sub, loaded with hot peppers, and I mumble something about a roast beef sandwich with horseradish.
The decadent smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread fills the air, but my appetite is nonexistent.
Finding a small booth by the window, the cracked vinyl seats creak under our weight as we sit down. I lean back against the cool surface of the bench, staring out at the cold, bustling street, trying to shake off the knot of tension in my chest.
The girl who brings our sandwiches is young, probably a college student working weekends, and she flashes a quick smile, setting down our food and drinks. I can barely muster a nod in return. My mind is still stuck on Tasha, replaying the words from her text over and over.
Josh takes a big bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back. “Okay, Dad, what’s going on? You’ve been a mess ever since last night. Is this about Tasha?”
I try to sidestep him, shrugging it off. “It’s nothing, just work stress,” I mutter, but Josh isn’t buying it.
He’s got that look on his face, the same one he used to get as a kid when he was about to call me out on my bullshit.
“Come on, Dad, I know you better than that. You’re not this worked up over zoning permits.”
I take a deep breath, the words heavy on my tongue. “Tasha’s pregnant, Josh,” I finally admit, the confession hanging in the air between us. “She’s pregnant…and she ran off to Vegas. She left last night.”
The shock on his face is immediate, Josh’s eyes widen, and he sets his sandwich down, wiping his hands like he’s trying to make sense of what he just heard. “Wait, what? She’s pregnant? And she just left?”
“Yeah, exactly,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m a complete idiot. I didn’t see how scared she was, didn’t realize how much pressure she must’ve been under.”
Josh leans forward, his blonde brow furrowed. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asks.
Shaking my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know what the hell to do, Josh! She won’t answer my calls. I’ve screwed this up so badly, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see me again. I think she might have heard us at the bar last night.”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of my failure pressing down on my shoulders.
“You can’t just let her go, Dad.” Josh doesn’t let up. “You need to do what you didn’t do when Mom left. You need to go after her.”
I scoff, shaking my head dismissively. “That’s some idea, Josh. This isn’t a movie. She’s made up her mind. She’s scared, she’s hurt, and I’m the reason why.”
Josh slams his palm on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. “Dad, Tasha is terrified. She’s convinced you don’t want anything to do with her or the baby, and instead of sticking around to hear that rejection, she’s trying to protect herself by leaving.”
He leans in closer, eyes burning into mine. “Do you want her to leave?”
I stare at him, my throat tightening. “No,” I say hoarsely. “No, I don’t.”
Swallowing hard, feeling the words I’ve been too afraid to say rising up, unstoppable. “Josh, I love her. Not just the idea of her or the fact that she’s having my baby. I’m in love with her, all of her. She’s…she’s the best damn thing to ever happen to me, after you.”
Josh’s face softens. “Then you’ve got to go after her, Dad. You can’t just sit here wallowing in regret.”
Suddenly, it’s like something inside me snaps into place, and I push back from the table, the realization hitting me with the force of a freight train.
“I have to go get her right now,” I say, my voice filled with a clarity I haven’t felt in days. “I can’t let her walk away thinking she’s a mistake.”
Josh grins, leaning back in his seat. “That’s the spirit. Don’t let her slip through your fingers, Dad. You’ll regret it forever if you do. Don’t worry, I’ll handle things for you while you’re gone.”
I stand up, my half-eaten sandwich forgotten on the table as I rush to open the door. My heart is pounding, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I hustle down the cold street.
Tasha is out there, somewhere, thinking she’s all alone. But I’m not giving up on us.
Not now. Not ever.