Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Addie
Luc just left, and now, I find myself standing in front of the fridge, trying to decide what to eat. Before all this, I’d been hoping we would go out. It is Friday… Now, the apartment just feels quiet after the conversation I didn’t let him finish.
He’s still the father. That doesn’t change. But I broke any other ties between us. Our relationship won’t extend any further than what’s practical and essential for our child. There’s nothing more between us.
That’s what I know how to do. For a second, I rest my hand against the cold metal of the fridge, letting that settle in.
I finally pull the door open and take out the first thing I see.
But before I can open the container, the baby kicks.
It’s strong enough that I stop and put my hand on the counter until it passes.
I’ve felt movement for a while now, but this one was different.
It demands attention. It isn’t asking. This baby is making himself known.
“I know,” I tell the baby. “It bothers me what your daddy did too.”
At twenty-seven weeks, none of this feels abstract anymore, and Luc is right that I’m feeling the pressure. In some ways, it still surprises me how readily I’ve adapted to carrying this along with everything else. And I think he’s also right that what I haven’t learned is how to share it.
I sit at the kitchen table and rest my arms on the surface, needing something solid.
The baby rolls again, slower now. My hand moves to my stomach.
This isn’t just happening inside my body.
It’s happening inside my life. The thought is uncomfortable, but I have to acknowledge it. This isn’t only mine.
Not just emotionally, but in real, practical ways. Biological. Legal. There’s another person connected to this child. That doesn’t disappear just because the timing is messy or the boundaries aren’t clear. Or he’s not helping in the way I actually want.
And what way is that? a voice inside me asks.
Luc.
His name sits heavy in my mind.
He’s not just the man I’m annoyed with, not just the one who stepped in and made a decision for me. He’s the father of my child.
That’s the part I haven’t really let myself think about.
It’s easier to call what Luc did with Evie interference if I don’t follow the thought all the way through.
It’s easier to focus on how it felt to be managed than to admit that this stopped being just about what I want the moment I wasn’t alone in it anymore.
And maybe, just maybe, I pushed him toward this course of action because I won’t present him with any other that actually allows him to be involved.
The baby moves again, sharper this time, and I pull in a breath. That thought doesn’t feel sweet. It feels enormous. Every choice from here on has weight, and not all of it is mine to carry alone.
After the baby settles, I stay in my chair, considering the moment Luc stepped into something without consulting me. Not his words. Not even the result. The choice itself.
I’m sure at the time it felt efficient. Like he saw a problem and handled it so I wouldn’t have to. That’s the version I’ve been pushing against, telling myself he overstepped, that he crossed a line that wasn’t his to cross. Again.
Sitting here now, though, hand still resting against my stomach, I know that isn’t the whole truth. Luc didn’t just act as my partner. He acted as a father. And I may not like what he did, but I can’t deny that he does have a say.
Nonetheless, there’s a difference between someone standing up for you and someone speaking for you.
Between helping and taking over. When he went to Evie without us discussing it first, he didn’t just try to shield me from pressure, which won’t work, no matter what he thinks, he made himself the one who speaks. The one who decides for both of us.
From where I stood, it felt like the future he was trying to protect mattered more than my right to decide what happens now. The baby shifts again. This is still my body. I’m the one carrying this child, moment by moment.
And yet, perhaps that’s precisely his point.
I need the breathing room to make choices that are right for this baby and for the life I’ll have as I raise him after he’s born.
I can’t ignore that things changed the second I found out I wasn’t alone in this.
Luc being involved isn’t optional. It’s part of the biology.
Part of the law. Part of the life growing whether I want it to be or not.
That doesn’t mean Luc gets to decide everything, but it does mean his perspective has a different level of relevance now. And I’m not sure I would have been able to acknowledge that even if he had come to me before making this decision.
I push back from the table and stand, moving slowly, listening to my body as I cross the room. The baby stays quiet now, as if satisfied. I rest a hand against my hip and stare out the window.
Luc didn’t take something away from me intentionally. He believed it was already shared, whether I was ready or not.
I think that’s the part that scares me most. Not that he overstepped, but that from his perspective, his choice was worth the aftermath, whatever it might be.
Emma doesn’t ask what’s wrong when she calls, but it seems she hears it anyway.
“You sound off,” she says after a few seconds of small talk. “What’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her because that’s the reflex.
“That’s not what I asked,” she says. “Is this about Luc being at the vineyard?”
I lean back against the counter and close my eyes.
“Did Sera text you too?” I sigh. Everyone is still trying to manage me.
“Yes, it is. I’m trying to get past Luc going to Evie without telling me.
” I leave out that we’ve broken up if you can call it that.
“He told her to back off. No one wants to go head-on with Evie, but he did.” I sigh. “He decided for me.”
“I’m not saying the way he did it was right,” she says. “But he’s the father of your baby.”
“I know that.” Annoyance rushes through me.
“This isn’t just your body or your baby anymore.”
She’s saying all the things I’ve just spent the better part of the afternoon telling myself, but now, they’re making me irritated, defensive.
“That doesn’t mean he gets to take over.” I look at the mural I’ve begun transferring as a sketch on the nursery wall.
“No. But it does mean his perspective matters now. And so does yours. He didn’t do it only for you,” she adds. “He did it for the baby.”
“He doesn’t get to go around me,” I say. “Not about this. Not about the baby. Going to Evie—” I shake my head. “That was… It crossed something.”
“I understand why you feel that way,” she says. “Just put yourself in his shoes. Think about how you would feel if you were in his place.”
I let out a short breath that doesn’t go anywhere. “I don’t know,” I say. “That’s not…” I press my lips together, searching for it and coming up short. It’s not just what he did. It’s how easy it was. How quickly everything shifted around me without anyone asking.
Emma doesn’t say anything. The silence expands.
“I just need him to stop deciding things without me,” I say finally, quieter now. “Even when he thinks he’s helping.”
After we hang up, I pace back and forth across the room once before calling Ric.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always. What’s going on?”
I grip the edge of the counter. “Luc went to Evie. He went to see her at the vineyard.”
A beat. “Okay.”
“He told her to back off before I could. Or instead of me. I don’t even know.” I let out a breath. “And I ended it.”
“Ended it how?” Ric asks.
“I broke up with him.” The words sit there, heavier out loud. “We’re done.”
Another beat, longer this time.
“Okay,” he says again, but it’s different now. Slower. Taking it in. “Walk me through that.”
I push off the counter and start pacing. “He went around me. Took it out of my hands. I’m not doing that with someone. I’m not building anything with someone who moves around me like that.”
“And that was enough for you to end the relationship.”
“Yes.”
Ric lets that sit for a second. “Do you feel settled in that decision?”
I don’t answer right away. “I feel clear.”
“Those aren’t the same thing,” he says.
I stop pacing. “I’m not second-guessing it.”
“I didn’t ask if you were,” Ric replies. “I’m asking if you’ve thought through what it changes.”
My grip tightens on my phone. “It changes everything.”
“In what way?”
“In every way,” I snap. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Right,” he says, steady. “So the relationship is over. But what’s your plan for everything that isn’t?”
I go still.
“He’s the father,” Ric continues. “That part didn’t end when you broke up with him.”
“I know that,” I say. “He’ll be able to see the baby, but he doesn’t need to be involved beyond that. He doesn’t have the right to step in and start making decisions for me.”
“No,” Ric agrees. “But it does mean he has a say in anything that affects the child. And right now, the way you handled this has made those conversations a lot more complicated. Are you sure removing him from your life as much as you can is really what you want?”
“He removed me when he went to Evie.”
“And you removed him back when you ended it,” Ric says. “Both things can be true.”
I press my lips together.
“What were you trying to get when you told him you were done?” he asks.
“I wanted control back,” I say before I can stop myself.
Ric doesn’t react right away. “Okay.”
“I’m not letting him—or her—run over me,” I add.
“I hear that,” he says. “But control and outcome isn’t the same thing.”
I look away, already knowing where this is going.
“You got control of the personal relationship,” he continues. “You don’t have control of the situation. That’s still shared whether you like it or not.”
I exhale slowly. “So what, I just…keep him in my life after what he did?”
“I’m not telling you to stay with him,” Ric says. “You made that decision, even if it wasn’t intentional. I’m asking you to think about what version of him you want to interact with because you have to have one of them.”
Silence stretches.
“And if you don’t define that,” he adds, “it’s going to get defined for you.”
I lean back against the counter, the edge pressing into my spine. “I’m not ready to figure that out with him.”
“Then don’t do it with him yet,” Ric says. “Do it for yourself. Decide what access looks like. What communication looks like. What your response will be when he crosses your line again.”
“Again,” I repeat.
Ric doesn’t soften it. “You think this was a one-time move?”
I don’t answer.
“This is a long game now,” he says. “Not a one-off fight you can win and walk away from.”
I shake my head. “I hate that.”
“I know,” he says. “But that’s where you are.”
“Okay,” I assure him. “I’ll think about it.”
We promise to meet for breakfast soon and then end the call.
I don’t move right away. The phone stays in my hand, the screen gone dark while I stand there like I’m still mid-conversation, like there’s something else coming that might make this easier to sort.
Emma said it. Ric said it.
I can feel their words pressing in, though not in a way that settles anything, just in a way that makes them harder to dismiss. Like I’m standing in the same place, only now, the ground isn’t as solid as it was a few minutes ago.
Eventually, I cross to the window because I need something to do with my restlessness, but it follows me anyway. It’s something I can’t make smaller no matter how many angles I turn it from.
And yet…
I exhale slowly, staring out without tracking anything beyond the glass.
My position isn’t the problem. That part is set. I know how I feel.
It’s everything around it that won’t fall in line.
How do I make this work with the reality I have coming?