10. Destiny
10
DESTINY
A very’s cries pierce through the quiet of my apartment, dragging me back from the edge of sleep.
I force myself out of bed, muscles aching from the past three days of restless nights. I hurry over to her room, the carpet soft and comforting under my bare feet.
“Shh, cupcake,” I murmur, lifting her gently. Her tiny body quivers with sobs, and I hold her close, inhaling her sweet baby scent. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
We settle into the rocking chair by the window. The rhythmic creak of wood against floorboards mingles with Avery’s soft whimpers.
I hum a lullaby, one I’ve sung countless times since she was born. Slowly, her cries fade into contented coos.
I can’t help but think about Adam’s face in the courtroom. The way his eyes darkened with anger, his jaw clenched.
How did we get here? The man who once looked at me like I was his entire world now wants ‘a clean break.’
I sigh and glance at my phone on the nightstand, half-expecting it to buzz with another call from Barrett or even Adam’s lawyer. Instead, it remains silent—a brief respite.
Avery squirms in my arms, her eyes fluttering closed. I carefully place her back in the crib and tiptoe out of the room.
The kitchen is dimly lit by early morning light filtering through the blinds. I pour myself a cup of coffee and lean against the counter, savoring the warmth spreading through my hands.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. I set my coffee down, taking a moment to collect myself before heading to answer it.
I set my coffee cup down and open the door to Barrett’s concerned face.
“Hey,” he says, stepping inside. “I wanted to meet in person. You okay with that?”
“Yeah,” I nod, closing the door behind him. “It’s just... easier here.” I sink into a chair opposite him, my hands trembling slightly. “I can’t face Adam, Barrett. Not when he doesn’t know the truth.”
He leans forward, his expression softening. “This is exactly why you’ve got to tell him. Plus, you need to know that they’re pushing for the next date because nothing was achieved the last time.” He sighs. “Also…the judge wasn’t impressed with you storming out. It looks bad, if I’m being honest.”
I know I made things worse, but everything just came crashing down so suddenly. Tears blur my vision as I stare at the floor. “You know how hard it was to stand there while he looked at me like I’m... like I’m some sort of cheater. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic. It’s like everything we had means nothing to him now.”
Barrett reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. “He needs to know, no matter how hard facing him is. The longer you wait, the worse it’ll get.”
“I know,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks. “But every time I think about telling him, I freeze up. He’ll want to get back together for Avery’s sake, and I don’t want that kind of life for her.”
His eyes are kind but firm. “It’s not just about what you want anymore, Destiny. It’s about what’s best for Avery too.”
I pull my hand away and wipe my tears with the back of my sleeve. “And what if he hates me even more when he finds out? What if he thinks I kept her from him out of spite?”
“You’ve got to trust that he’ll understand eventually,” Barrett says gently. “He might be angry at first, but Adam loves you—or at least he used to. That counts for something.”
I stand up and walk to the window, looking out at the bustling street below. “I never thought it would come to this,” I say softly.
Barrett stands too and comes up beside me. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve built an amazing company while raising a beautiful daughter all on your own. You can do this too.”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he replies. “Just don’t let it stop you from doing what needs to be done.”
I take a deep breath and turn to face him. “Okay,” I say finally. “I’ll do the right thing.”
He smiles, a mixture of relief and encouragement in his eyes. “Good. We’ll get through this together.”
We go silent and he watches me with that patient look he’s mastered. “Look, I’ll hold find a way to hold them off a little longer,” he says, his tone calm. “But you need to talk to Adam soon. He should know that Avery is his.”
I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Barrett. I know I’m making this more complicated.”
He shakes his head. “You’re doing what you think is best for Avery. No one can fault you for that.”
The tension in my shoulders eases a bit. “I appreciate you understanding that.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Jackie and I are having dinner at our place this weekend. Why don’t you come? Bring Avery. It’ll be good for you to be around friends.”
I hesitate, the idea of socializing feeling foreign after months of isolation. “I don’t know, Barrett…”
“Come on,” he insists gently. “It’ll be fun. Marionette’s been asking about Avery since the last time she saw her.”
His words warm me in a way I didn’t expect. Marionette is always so sweet with Avery, and Jackie’s presence is always calming. “Alright,” I say finally. “We’ll come.”
Barrett grins, relief evident in his eyes. “Great. Saturday at six?”
“Six it is.”
He stands up and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door. “You will get through this.”
As the door closes behind him, the apartment feels quieter than ever. I walk back to Avery’s room, where her soft breathing fills the space with a sense of peace.
I pick her up from her crib, cradling her against my chest. Her tiny fingers grasp at my shirt, and I feel an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness.
I carry her over to the rocking chair again and sit down, rocking us both gently back and forth. The motion soothes my racing thoughts, if only for a moment.
As much as I dread it, Barrett’s right—I need to tell Adam that this beautiful baby isn’t another man’s. He deserves to know his daughter exists. But how do I face him after everything that’s happened? How do I look into those piercing blue eyes and admit that I’ve kept something so monumental from him?
I press a kiss to Avery’s forehead and let out a long breath. “We’ll figure it out together, baby girl,” I promise softly.
Avery stirs again and opens her eyes, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that are so much like mine.
“We’ll figure it out,” I repeat more firmly this time, feeling a spark of determination ignite within me as I watch her fall asleep again.
With Avery finally asleep, I tiptoe out of her room and head to my laptop. It sits on the kitchen table, surrounded by sketches and fabric swatches—a reflection of my attempt at juggling motherhood and running a business.
I open the laptop and navigate to the folder labeled “Avery.” Hundreds of photos fill the screen, each one capturing a moment of her short yet significant life.
There she is in her dinosaur onesie, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity. Another shows her first smile, toothless and pure. I click through them, my heart swelling with every memory.
“Let’s do this,” I whisper to myself.
I start arranging the photos into a slideshow. Avery’s first bath, her tiny hand gripping my finger, her first steps—every image tells a story. I add a soft instrumental track in the background, something gentle that won’t distract from the visuals.
A photo of Avery sleeping in her crib pops up. Her little face is peaceful, framed by a halo of dark brown curls. I linger on it for a moment, imagining how Adam might react when he sees it.
“This won’t make up for lost time,” I murmur, “but it’s something.”
The next image is from last week: Avery sitting in her high chair, covered in mashed carrots. She’s grinning ear to ear, and I can almost hear her giggles. The memory brings a smile to my face despite everything.
The house is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak from the wooden floors. It feels like these moments are stolen from reality, existing in a bubble where only Avery and I reside.
My fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, adjusting transitions and timing. The slideshow starts to take shape, a digital scrapbook of her life over the past year.
As I work, emotions swirl inside me—regret for not telling Adam sooner, fear of his reaction, but also hope that this gesture might bridge some of the distance between us.
I pause, fingers trembling over the keys. What will he think when he sees this? Will he be angry? Hurt? Is there a way he might understand why I kept this secret for so long?
I push those thoughts aside and focus on finishing the slideshow. The final image is of Avery in her Halloween costume—a tiny pumpkin suit that she absolutely hated but looked adorable in nonetheless.
After about an hour, the slideshow is complete, but the knot in my stomach remains. This isn’t just a collection of photos; it’s an olive branch, a way to bridge the chasm between us.
I save the file and lean back in my chair, mental exhaustion washing over me. The weight of everything presses down hard—our past love, our current estrangement, and the future that remains uncertain.
But for now, I’ve done something tangible. A small step toward reconciling two worlds that seem so far apart. Maybe it’s not enough, but it’s a start.
And sometimes, that’s all you need.