73. Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-eight
Brynn
Leo’s apartment—well, my apartment now too, I guess—is rich with the scent of wood and earth, an aroma that, somewhere along the way, I’ve grown to associate with home. Even Isabella’s floral perfume isn’t strong enough to dilute it.
A week has passed since my minor freak-out that led to Leo’s declaration of love. A week of soft kisses stolen between bouts of anxiety, the knowledge that we need to tell my brother about our relationship ticking away at us like a doomsday clock. Another week of Isabella working hard to build a connection with Salem.
There’s been some progress on that front, though not a huge amount. Issy seems a little more relaxed around her daughter now, though there’s a distance to her gaze that lingers every time I see her.
It’s there now, as she leans back into the plush cushions of the couch. “I need to tell you something.”
“Oh?” I look up from my spot on the rug, legs spread with Salem sitting between them as she smashes her fist into the keys of a toy piano I now regret buying for her.
Issy rubs her hands together then squeezes them between her knees. “I kissed Alex.”
The shock of her statement makes me jolt.
She gnaws on the corner of her thumbnail, leaving it lingering by her mouth when she continues, “That’s not strictly true, actually. I tried to kiss Alex. He pushed me away.”
“Dude.” I blink at her in astonishment. “Why are you telling me this? That’s your business.”
“I don’t know. We’re friends. I just thought you should know.”
“The less I know about my brother’s sex life, the better. Frankly, the idea of him kissing anyone gives me a rash.”
“But it’s weird, though, right?”
I can’t help it. Laughter bubbles from the depths of my lungs before exploding so hysterically it startles Salem.
Issy frowns. “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m fucking your baby daddy. I don’t think it gets much weirder than that.”
“You’re so direct sometimes, you know that?”
She doesn’t say it as a criticism, more as a stunned observation. She’s known me long enough now that my bluntness shouldn’t be a surprise to her, but I guess it hits differently when the situation is as complicated as ours is.
I shrug. “It’s more efficient.”
“You really don’t care?”
“No.” I truly don’t. “I’m not my brother's keeper. I don’t consider it my responsibility to dictate who he can or cannot sleep with. I’m a little surprised, though. I didn’t realize you liked him that way.”
But then again, she’s been staying with him for the last few weeks. And I know as well as anyone what forced proximity can do to two single, objectively attractive individuals.
“I don’t.” She sits back, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her face on them with dejection. “I mean, he’s hot, sure, even with the man bun, but it wasn’t like that.” She rolls her eyes when I stick my finger in my mouth and pretend to vomit. “It was last week. The day we took Salem to the playground. We’d had that chat about how I’m struggling with this new mom thing, and even though you helped with that, I don’t know… It’s pathetic, but I guess I was just feeling sad.”
My heart sinks for her. I knew she’d been struggling, but I truly thought our conversation last week had made a difference. I see now that I was being na?ve.
Truth is, as hard as I try to empathize with Issy’s situation, it’s impossible for me to understand exactly how she’s feeling. It doesn’t help that I still haven’t completely forgiven her for abandoning Salem the way she did, no matter her reasoning for it. That, mixed with the jealousy I’m constantly trying to smother, on top of knowing that Leo is still wildly uncomfortable with her presence, makes it damn hard to remain impartial all the time.
I’m only human, after all.
But I try. God, do I try to put it all aside for the sake of giving Salem a real chance to have a mother. When all is said and done, it’s her that will have to live with the consequences of the decisions made by the adults in her life, which is why, when Issy’s face begins to crumble and tears well in her eyes, I’m at her side within seconds. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Salem watches me go, frowning before picking up her toy piano and crawling to sit at my feet. Issy’s gaze flicks to her, thick with guilt and sorrow, before settling on her own hands crossed tightly in her lap. “I’m scared.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m scared I’m getting this all wrong.”
“That’s literally how every mom feels every second of the day. We talked about this, remember? You just have to give it time to—”
“No. That’s not what I mean,” she interrupts, releasing a quivering sigh. “I’m scared that I was right the first time.”
I blink, confusion holding my words captive, because surely she isn’t saying what I think she is.
I’m trapped between wanting to comfort her the way a friend would and condemning her for the things she’s done that I still struggle so much to understand. No matter how hard I try to see things from her perspective, a part of me will always wonder how she could walk away from Salem so easily.
And now she’s considering doing the same thing again?
My palms sweat as I process her words, trying to find the right thing to say and coming up short. I want so desperately to offer her comfort and guidance without judgment, but I’m awfully unqualified to do so.
I didn’t take one psych class in college—namely because I never went to college in the first place. Maybe if I had, I’d be more equipped to deal with this conversation or at least have a starting point from which to build on.
As it is now, I simply don’t know what the fuck to say.
“You know what? Never mind.” She wipes her tears abruptly and fakes a smile. “It doesn’t matter.”
Guilt churns like nausea in my stomach. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just… This is… I—” I breathe deeply through my nose to settle myself. “I just can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your position, and I’m trying not to let my own feelings get in the way of anything. It isn’t my place to influence you in either direction, whether you stay or go. That’s not my choice to make.”
“But you can tell me what to do, can’t you? The right thing to do? You can tell me that, at least?”
I can’t.
Simply because I don’t know the answer myself.
Isabella has fucked up. She doesn’t need me to tell her that. She fucked up by not trying harder to contact Leo while she was pregnant. She fucked up again by showing up here when no one was prepared for it. To do all that and then change her mind? Yeah, she’s fucked up there too.
But despite all that, she isn’t a bad person.
I truly believe that she’s only ever wanted to do the right thing by her daughter. She simply doesn’t know what the right thing is.
“Things really aren’t getting better?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head, so bitterly sad. “No.”
I nod slowly while I think. Chewing on my bottom lip, I absentmindedly run my fingers through the curls on Salem’s head. The little girl looks up at me, bright-blue eyes sparkling as her lips spread into a joyous smile.
She has no idea what’s going on. She has no idea that the conversation taking place right now will affect the outcome of the rest of her life. She’s just content to sit on the floor between my feet, hitting the multicolored keys of her tuneless plastic piano while I stroke my fingers through her hair.
I can’t help but think that if Issy is ultimately going to leave, wouldn’t now be the best time to do so? While Salem is still oblivious instead of further down the line when she’s aware of who Isabella is to her, when she’s built up that love for her mom? Wouldn’t it be better now, when it won’t break her heart into unmendable pieces?
I know what it’s like to have a parent ripped away from you, and I don’t want that for Salem.
“I’m trying really hard, Brynn,” Isabella says, her voice quiet and cracked.
“I know you are.”
“So, what do I do?” she whispers.
“I don’t know, Is. Only you can make that decision. All I can say is that the right thing doesn’t always look like the right thing. It’s only the right thing if it’s right for you .”
We fall into silence. It’s stilted, uncomfortable, and smoky with the weight of Issy’s admission, but neither of us can find it in ourselves to break it.
Salem, thankfully, is none the wiser. Tugging at the leg of my pants, she hoists herself up to standing and pats her hands against my knees.
“ Hungee .”
My lips twitch, despite the heaviness I feel in my heart. “You’re hungry, ladybug?”
She nods, eyes alight with expectation. Pulling her into my arms, I stand to take her through to the kitchen when my cell rings.
Miss Jessica.
My stomach sinks, worry twisting painfully inside me at the realization that something must be wrong with Ivy. I haven’t had much time in the past couple of weeks to see her—a fact that hurts me just as much as it makes me feel guilty.
Ivy has so few people in the world, and I’ve been too preoccupied by the situation with Isabella to be there for her the way I know she needs me to be.
Issy looks at me quizzically, noticing the flash of concern on my face. “Want me to take Salem, so you can answer that?”
“Yeah, if that's okay.” I curse under my breath when the incoming call cuts off. “Would you mind grabbing her a snack from the kitchen while I’m gone? There’s some fruit and stuff in the fridge.”
I’m already hitting the callback button before she has a chance to respond. I don’t know how I feel about leaving Salem and Issy alone after our conversation, so I vow to be quick and duck down the hallway to Leo’s office.
“Brynn?” Miss Jessica’s voice drifts down the line as I fold myself into the chair at Leo’s desk, curling my legs underneath me.
“I’m here. Is Ivy okay?”
“She’s fine, but she has been begging to call you for a week now, and I tried to tell her that you’re busy, and we shouldn’t disturb you, but well…you know Ivy, and she can be quite persistent.”
I give a relieved laugh in response. “She can call me anytime. You know that.”
“Miss Brynn! Miss Brynn!” Ivy’s excited little voice in the background hits me straight in the heart. “Miss Brynn, I lost my first toof!”
There’s some fumbling down the line as Miss Jessica passes over the phone, giving way to approximately seven minutes of Ivy chatting relentlessly about the “toof” fairy, until she cuts herself off mid-spiel to ask me very solemnly, “When will I get to call you mommy?”
Ah, fuck.
I hate it when she asks me this, which, recently, has been every single time I’ve seen her. She’s so certain that I’ll adopt her one day, and I don’t have the words, or the strength, to break her heart.
To break both our hearts.
In the back of my mind, a small voice whispers that things might be different now that Leo and I are together. I have a home now. I earn a good living from my influencing work to raise her comfortably, and I know the apartment is safe for children because Leo has made it so for his daughter.
But while my new relationship with Leo has cleared all the roadblocks to adoption that I had previously, it has thrown up a bunch of new ones.
We’ve only been officially together a week. And while he’s been incredibly steadfast in his conviction that we’re a family, that doesn’t give me the right to make decisions that will affect his daughter. I don’t doubt his love for me, but I can’t ignore how quickly we’ve reached this point.
It’s only been a handful of months since I started working as Salem’s nanny, back when he could barely stand the sight of me. If things between us can move so quickly, then who’s to say they can’t change back just as fast?
And it’s not that I think they will, but that’s not a risk I can afford to take with Ivy. She deserves stability, and I’m still not in a position to confidently give that to her.
Plus, I can’t say Leo would take it well if I told him I wanted to adopt a second child so early on in the game. Talk about moving fast. The man would run for the hills.
I think my words through carefully. “It might be a very long time before that’s possible, sweet girl. And you might find another mommy before then.”
Even without seeing her, I can tell she’s pouting. “I don’t want another mommy.”
I’m trying not to cry when we end the call with the promise that I’ll come and see her this weekend. My eyes sting even as I find my way back through to the kitchen, where Issy has Salem set up in her highchair at the island.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, tracing the marble lines of the countertop distractedly with my finger. “Sorry about that. Was everything okay with Salem while I was gone?”
She shrugs. “She fussed for a bit when you left, but I gave her some grapes, and that seemed to cheer her up.”
“Yeah, food is the way to that girl’s heart,” I chuckle. “Did you slice them first?”
“What?”
“The grapes. They’re a choking hazard, so you have to slice them first.”
She pales. “I didn’t know.”
I’m sure to clear my voice of admonishment when I say, “Well, that’s okay, we can just do it—” My words die on my tongue when I look at Salem’s face for the first time since rejoining them after my call.
I should have noticed when her babbling stopped a few seconds ago. Should have looked at her sooner, should have never left her alone with Issy in the first place. Not after her admission. Not when she was so distracted.
“Brynn!” Issy grabs me, her long fingernails puncturing the fabric of my shirt and piercing the skin of my shoulder.
But I don’t even notice the pain.
Because Salem’s eyes, that usually shine brighter than the surface of the ocean, are wild with panic. Her body is rigid, her hands flailing at her sides. And her skin…
It’s turning blue.