Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
EVIE
I sink back into the couch in Alec’s living room and shift Juno from nursing on one side to the other, quickly burping her in between. She yawns before she latches back on, and I notice the perfect bow of her upper lip, shaped just like Devon’s.
Stupid, stupid Devon.
Months without a message from my ex-husband.
Months.
Months of living in the same city, of ultrasound visits and prenatal classes and doctors’ appointments. Then, after Juno was born, four more months of living with my parents in White Plains, learning how to be a mom, exhausted and emotional and barely keeping myself together.
And through it all, Devon never showed. I was a short train ride away from where he lived in Manhattan, and he never visited. Never laid eyes on his daughter.
And now he’s texting me.
Now , when I’m living in a different state, trying to start over and move on with my life, he’s texted and said he wants to talk.
The message came in an hour ago, and I’ve basically done nothing since. I managed to order dinner delivery, and the TV is on, but the volume is muted, and I haven’t glanced at the screen in ages.
I just keep staring at my phone.
Reading Devon’s message over and over.
Devon
Can we talk?
Only three words, but they could mean anything. My gut says they probably have something to do with him losing his job. But what does that have to do with me? The thought of finding out for sure makes me feel ill.
I don’t want to know because I don’t want him in my life.
Juno lifts a hand up and brushes it along my chest, her fist curling around the hem of my shirt and making my heart squeeze. She’s still Devon’s daughter, and he technically has visitation rights, at least according to the state of New York. If he’s come to his senses and wants to meet Juno, will I stand in his way? Will I keep him from having a relationship with her?
There’s no question that he’ll never have a relationship with me. Not after what he put me through.
But Juno? She’ll want to know her father. Logically, I know I should want the same thing. I just don’t want her to know disappointment from him like I have. And I don’t know how to protect her from that.
I screenshot the text and send it to Megan, followed by an all-caps HELP and a string of question marks. When she doesn’t respond right away, I toss my phone across the couch, letting it slip in between the couch cushions.
I don’t go after it, because I’d rather it stay there anyway. I’m not going to respond to Devon until I’ve consulted with Megan, and if I don’t see her response right away, I can stop thinking about it for a while.
I reach for the remote to turn up the volume on the TV, but I pause when I hear the front door open. I streamed Alec’s game earlier, but I didn’t expect him to show up anytime soon. I assumed he’d be out with his team, celebrating their win.
He strolls into the living room carrying a bag from a local burger place and an enormous diet soda. “Dinner delivery,” he says as he sets the bag on the coffee table, then drops his duffel bag onto the floor.
“What? Really?”
“You ordered it, didn’t you?” he asks. “I met the delivery guy in the driveway.”
“Yeah. I just didn’t expect it so soon.”
“Betty’s always delivers pretty fast.” He smiles at me. “Hi.”
Heat warms my cheeks because good grief, the man has an incredible smile, and my heart does a little shimmy. But no. Nope. No shimmying should happen—not based on the Instagram posts I stumbled across earlier.
It was purely accidental. I was scrolling through the Appies official account, looking at posts other people had tagged them in, and a woman named Riley popped up. Her post was relatively benign. Just a photo of her with the Appies game visible on the television over her shoulder. But the caption caught my eye, because she named Alec specifically. Watching Alec kill it on the ice today! Followed by way too many heart emojis.
At first, I thought she might be a really enthusiastic fan, but curiosity made me click through to her profile, and that’s when my stomach dropped into my fuzzy socks.
There were two posts pinned to the top, and both were of her and Alec looking extremely cuddly. In one photo, she’s kissing him on the cheek while he smiles wide into the camera.
She’s beautiful—because of course she is—something made perfectly clear by the dozen or so posts I scrolled through before Juno woke up from her nap and saved me from myself.
It is not in my best interest to compare myself to a fashion designer and influencer with more than twenty thousand followers. Not when my wardrobe is mostly stretchy pants and overalls because that’s all that currently fits. But the discovery did give me a much-needed wake-up call.
No matter how easy it is to talk to him, no matter how nice Alec is being by letting me stay here, he’s not for me.
“Hi,” I say, reaching for Juno’s blanket. I drape it over my shoulder, making sure I’m at least partly covered. Juno tends to get hot when she nurses, so I won’t cover her completely, but the way she feels about Alec’s voice, if he starts talking, I can’t guarantee she won’t pop off just to look around and see what’s going on. I’d rather avoid an accidental nipple flash if I can, so I feel better at least having the blanket close.
“Are you hungry?” I say, lifting Juno the slightest bit so I can reach for the bag without breaking her latch. “I had a hard time deciding what I wanted, so I actually ordered two burgers.”
Alec lifts an eyebrow as he drops onto the couch beside me. He traded his gameday suit for a pair of joggers and a pullover in Appies gray and turquoise, but he almost looks just as good in these. “You ordered two burgers?”
“Don’t judge,” I say, trying and failing to get my straw open using only one hand. “Nursing makes me feel like I’m starving. I couldn’t decide between the barbecue burger because it has an onion ring on it and hello, that sounds delicious, and the one with a fried egg and smoked gouda.”
“You should eat that one,” Alec says, reaching over and helping me with my straw. “It’s my favorite.”
“You like Betty’s Burgers?”
“Of course I do. They’re the best in Harvest Hollow.”
“You have to eat that one, then,” I say, reaching into the bag and pulling out the paper-wrapped burger marked with a scribble of magic marker that simply says egg.
“But then you won’t get to try it,” he argues.
“But it’s your favorite. I’m sure the other one is amazing too.”
“I’ll do you one better.” He stands and takes both burgers into the kitchen. A minute later, he returns with two plates, each holding half of two different kinds of burgers. “Now you can try them both.” He looks from me, to Juno, then back again. “Are you going to be able to eat this with one hand?”
Right after Juno was born, when she first started nursing, it was hard for me to feel comfortable feeding her in front of anyone. But it’s definitely gotten easier over the last few months, or maybe I’ve just gotten used to it? Either way, it’s notable that Alec doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Unless he has a secret life I’ve never heard about, I doubt he’s been around a lot of breastfeeding women, but he doesn’t seem thrown at all.
“Just put it on the coffee table,” I say. “She’ll be done in a second, and then she’ll hopefully sit in her seat long enough for me to eat. But don’t wait for me. You go ahead.”
“You sure?” He reaches for the fries and dumps them all on my plate.
“No fries for you?”
“It’s your dinner,” he says, but something in his tone makes me think that’s not his entire reason.
“And you’d rather not eat greasy salty fries?” I lean over and grab one and pop it into my mouth. It’s hot and delicious and perfectly crispy.
“I cheat every once in a while,” he says. “But eating healthy is part of the job.”
I grab another fry. “I think I’d have to get a different job.”
He chuckles. “Says someone with the metabolism of a twenty-three-year-old.”
“Whatever. You probably burn a billion calories a day. Your metabolism is just fine.”
He grins and takes a huge bite of the barbecue burger. He lets out a little groan that makes a tiny ribbon of heat unspool in my belly. “Oh man. Okay, that one is really good too.”
“Where are Theo and Carter?” I ask.
“At a team dinner,” he says before taking another bite. “At Felix’s.”
I frown. “You didn’t go?”
“Nah. I stayed back at the Summit to ice my knee, then just came home instead.”
There’s definitely something Alec isn’t saying. While it would be nice to think he came home just so he could hang out with me, I don’t think that’s it.
Juno finally finishes and leans back, craning her neck the slightest bit like she wants to look at Alec.
I shove my boob back into my bra and tug my t-shirt down.
Alec glances my way as I lift Juno to my shoulder to burp her, and his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink, a contrast to several days’ worth of stubble growing along his jawline. I glance down and realize my t-shirt is still hiked up, the bottom half of my bra only half concealed by Juno’s body. “Oh gosh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to flash you there.” I shift Juno to the side and adjust my shirt.
Nothing like exposing Alec to the more glamorous sides of motherhood right out of the gate.
“It’s fine. You didn’t,” he says quickly. He clears his throat, and I suddenly wonder if my earlier assessment was wrong, and Alec really isn’t comfortable with me breastfeeding in front of him.
I’m not going to be happy if he isn’t, but this is his house, and beggars can’t be choosers, so I feel like I have to at least ask. “Does it bother you that I’m feeding her out here?”
His eyes widen. “No! Absolutely not,” he says quickly. “Feed her wherever you’re comfortable. I was just wondering if…” His words trail off, and he clears his throat. “Actually, never mind. I’m not going to ask you that.”
“Does it what?” I repeat back. “Just ask me.”
He looks at Juno, then takes another bite of burger, chewing and swallowing before he finally asks, “I was just going to ask if it hurts.”
I lift my eyebrows as Juno lets out an enormous burp. “Good girl,” I say, patting her on the back. “What? Breastfeeding?”
He nods.
I stand and buckle Juno into her bouncy seat, then reach for my plate, balancing it on my knees. I’m surprised that Alec is asking, but I’m also glad. A lot of the friends who came to see me after Juno was born mostly just seemed uncomfortable with all the ways my body has changed. “It did at first,” I say as I reach for another fry. “The first few weeks or so. She made me bleed.”
I don’t realize how shocking my words sound until I look up and see Alec’s horrified expression.
Maybe this is why my friends were uncomfortable.
But I don’t want to diminish the things my body has endured. There is a grittiness to motherhood, a vulnerability that has left me bold and bare and honest in new ways. This is my reality now. There’s no reason to sugarcoat it.
“Are you serious?” Alec asks. “That’s horrible.”
I shrug and let out a little laugh. “Honestly, after everything else I went through to get her here, bleeding nipples didn’t feel all that bad.”
Alec coughs, his eyes widening like he’s starting to choke. He’s clearly moving air through his lungs, so I don’t think he needs the Heimlich, but his distress is still pretty obvious.
I scoot closer and thwack him on the back a few times. “You okay?”
He finally recovers, a fist lifted to his mouth as the coughing subsides. He wipes tears from his eyes. “I’m good. Sorry. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I probably should have given you more of a warning before mentioning my nipples.” I wince. “Oh geez. I keep doing it!”
Alec laughs. “It’s okay. I did ask.”
“I think something happens when you’re having a baby. I thought I would be so private, that I wouldn’t want anyone in the room with me. But then when you’re in labor, it becomes about so much more. Your body is doing this incredible thing, and…I don’t know. With so many people coming in, poking, prodding, I guess I stopped caring as much. It was more about function, about allowing them to take care of me.”
I stand up and reposition Juno in her bouncy seat. She’s kicking her feet, sliding herself closer to the bottom edge, so I tighten the buckles to keep her in place. “What are you so excited about, huh?” I squeeze her little toes. “Are you in a good mood?” She smiles and gurgles, kicking a few more times and making the seat bounce up and down.
Alec is quiet for a beat, his expression reflective, before he says, “Honestly, I think your body is pretty amazing.”
I lift my eyebrows, fighting a grin. “Do you, now?”
“Wait. That’s not what—I mean, yes. I do in that way too. But I meant that it’s amazing what your body can do. What it did. ”
If Alec weren’t being so incredibly adorable right now, I might get hung up on the fact that he just admitted he thinks my body is amazing. If he saw me naked, he might not think so, because everything from my collarbone down to my hip bones is a roadmap of stretch marks. But there’s a sincerity in Alec’s eyes that forces that shallow thought away and holds me in the moment.
He really means it.
I know my body is amazing. Bringing Juno into the world was practically a sacred experience. And of course, it was incredible to have Megan and Mom there with me, cheering me on, wiping away my tears and celebrating with me when Juno took her first breath.
But it still feels good to hear Alec acknowledge it. Maybe because he’s a man, and I’m not sure men always get it. At least not until they see a woman do it. Maybe because Devon wasn’t there. Now, Alec is validating some part of me I didn’t know needed validation.
“You grew a whole person,” Alec continues. “That’s big.”
I shrug. “I did, but…honestly, that’s not what changed me the most.”
“No?”
I tilt my head toward Juno. “She did. There are lots of ways to become a parent, and not all of them include pregnancy. I think your heart changes through the process no matter how it looks.”
Alec holds my gaze. “That’s pretty deep, nerd.”
I grin. “Shut up.”
“No, I mean it. I really do,” he says. “I like what you said. My mom is no less my mom because she wasn’t my birth mom. I get what you’re saying.”
I lean my elbow on the back of the couch. “Sometimes I forget your parents are actually your grandparents. I never think of them that way.”
“We really don’t either.”
“Do you see your birth mom any more frequently than Megan does?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. She isn’t interested in seeing us. She’s got a different life. Other kids. But it’s fine. I’m glad she’s happy.”
“That’s very mature of you,” I say, because it honestly is. Though knowing what I know of their parents, Alec and Megan probably had a lot of support processing and understanding their circumstances. Megan had a therapist when we were in middle and high school, and her parents were loving and supportive, fully engaged in her life. It stands to reason Alec would have had the same. If he and Megan’s birth mom left a hole when she left, I have no doubt their parents filled it.
Somewhere across the couch, a vibration sounds deep in the cushions, and Alec’s eyebrows lift. His phone is sitting on the coffee table next to my soda, so the buzzing has to be coming from mine. He sticks his hand in between the cushion and the arm of the couch and rummages around before pulling the phone up in a triumphant gesture. “Got it.” He glances at the screen, his expression shifting just slightly before holding it out to me. “Yours?”
I take the phone, wincing when I see another text from Devon on my notification screen. This one is only two words long.
Devon
Evie, please.
“Thanks,” I say to Alec, but then I shut off the screen and lean forward, dropping the phone face down on the table.
I shouldn’t be comparing the two men, but I can’t help it. Devon and I talked a lot, but most of the time, we were talking about him. His life. His auditions. His friends.
As soon as I found out I was pregnant, everything changed because Devon couldn’t be the center of the universe anymore. He hated the idea of sharing me, hated that I was prioritizing someone else’s needs over his. Even when those needs were my own.
Alec is the complete opposite. Even with his fame, his following, his role as the captain of a very popular hockey franchise, he has prioritized me and my comfort over and over again, and we aren’t even in a relationship. He’s just a genuinely nice guy.
My phone buzzes one more time, and a question flashes in Alec’s eyes. But he must sense I don’t want to talk about it because he doesn’t ask or push for information.
It’s the right move because I don’t want to think about Devon right now.
Instead, I smile and shift my focus back to Alec. “So tell me about the game.”