Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Digits and letters embossed like a map on this tiny little card will lead me straight to the father of my child. His name is Matthew, and he works in finance. A fucking finance bro.
It’s been a week since I ran into him, and the weight of this secret has grown near unbearable. My mind is a battleground of emotions, torn between the desire to find him and the fear of imploding my life and hurting Quintin. That is the very last thing I want.
With trembling fingers, I pick up my phone and text Quintin.
The message is short, a plea for him to reach out to me.
The seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes stretch into eternity, but there is no response.
Panic creeps in, and I decide to call him, hoping for some reassurance or guidance in his voice, anything to help me figure out the mess that is my life.
The phone rings, and my heart thumps in my chest with each passing ring. As the call goes to voicemail, disappointment washes over me. Where is he? Why isn’t he answering?
With a sigh, I set the phone aside and bury my face in my hands. The uncertainty is suffocating, and I feel a sense of loneliness I’ve never experienced before—so I call my best friend.
I dial her number, and she answers on the second ring. “What’s up, puta ?”
Tears well in my eyes as I speak, my voice choked with emotion, even as I whisper under the weight of it. “I don’t know what to do.”
There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, and she lowers her tone as she speaks again. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on,” she soothes.
“Quintin gave me a business card from Paula’s event,” I confess, squeezing my eyes shut as I fly through the rest of the words.
If I don’t, she’ll ask questions I’m about to give her the answers to.
“It’s the man I had a one-night stand with—the father of my child.
I don’t know if I should tell him about the baby or not. ”
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line before Santana responds. “Oh, Dani. This is fucked up . Quintin’s been here this entire time. You don’t owe that other motherfucker anything.”
While Santana is far from morally bankrupt, her logic isn’t always sound when it comes to personal matters, a fact I choose to ignore in exchange for peace. “You’re right,” is all I say.
Is it fear pushing me to make the wrong choice to keep myself from potentially losing him?
Honestly, it feels like I’m already losing him. He said he’d give me space, but I’m starting to feel like it’s the last thing I need right now. He’s the person I want to talk to, my partner and best friend.
Which I will never tell Santana.
But the loneliness is so much more apparent now; it feels like it takes up more space than I do.
Santana’s voice is warm and understanding, patient and steady. She must be around those uppity old people at work. “Exactly. You two have something special, and there’s no need to jeopardize that because of a chance encounter with some guy from your past.”
I try to ignore the way my heart still feels heavy with the weight of my secret, but it’s hard. “What if this man deserves to know he has a child?” I question, reminded of Quintin’s words. I’d want to know.
“He doesn’t have a child, you do. And of course, it’s a natural instinct to think that way,” Santana acknowledges. “But let’s think about what’s best for the baby. A stranger, or the man who’s been here, creating a life with you, for the three of you?”
I sigh, trying to convince myself that this is solid advice. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right, bitch. That’s why you called me,” she replies, as if everything is now magically solved. Maybe she isn’t around those uppity old people. “You have a loving partner, a supportive best friend, and a beautiful child on the way.”
A wave of gratitude washes over me at her attempt to soothe me, even when she’s being una gran pendeja .
“Are you going to la parranda ?” she asks, and I shake my head before the answer leaves my lips, knowing I’m not in the mood for Christmas caroling.
“No. I’d rather stay home and feel sorry for myself,” I respond, picking lint off my pants, knowing she’s likely rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.
“Be boring, then. Now, I need to get off the phone; my dick appointment just got here,” she informs me before hanging up.
A big asshole, indeed.
I sit in silence, pondering the choices before me. Santana’s words echo in my mind, reminding me of the love and support I had in Quintin—if he even cares anymore.
I’m about to tear up the business card when my phone vibrates.
I know why you’re calling. Don’t worry about me. Tell him. It’s the right thing to do.
Fuck.
This shit is not what I was expecting when I got the call to come in. I was already starting to calculate what I could make on unemployment and how long I could stretch my savings until I’m able to go back to work after having the baby.
My heart pounds in my chest as I sit across from Remi, who just offered me the partnership I’ve busted my ass for years to get.
It’s a dream come true, the opportunity I’ve been working so hard for.
It would mean seeing my mother’s last name on a building, the same woman who sacrificed everything to come here and give me a far better life than I would’ve had if she’d stayed in Puerto Rico.
But it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. For some reason, that’s enough for me to hesitate, to not jump at the opportunity.
My priorities have shifted now, and while I’m not saying I’m going to quit, I just don’t know if I’m going to have what it takes to fill the position.
I don’t know what motherhood has in store for me, especially now that Quintin isn’t around.
What I do know is I don’t want to miss raising my baby.
I also don’t want to accept the role and do a shitty job.
So, for the first time in my career, I look before I leap.
“I...I need some time to think about it,” I stammer, feeling a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.
Is it even excitement? Or is it the flutter of what the hell am I doing here ?
Add to it the strain between us that has never existed before, one I don’t know how to maneuver, and it makes this meeting uncomfortable.
Remi leans back in her chair, studying me carefully, her fingers steepled. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is a life-changing decision.”
Her chin-length red hair is as sleek as ever, and she wears red lipstick on her pursed lips, her winged liner sharp and precise. I try to find recognition in the way she assesses me, but she feels so foreign now.
She’s always been my boss, but she used to feel more like a friend.
I nod, my mind racing with conflicting emotions.
“I appreciate that,” I say, trying to find the right words.
“It’s just... I know we’ve discussed your future plans, and now that I’m pregnant, I can’t help but wonder if this might be hard for you.
” The words are hard to say, and I stumble over them.
I don’t want her to assume I think she’s jealous of me, because that isn’t quite it.
More like she’s mourning the idea of motherhood.
Remi’s expression softens, her smile lines deepening as she reaches across the table to place a reassuring hand on mine. There’s the woman I know.
“I won’t deny, I’ve thought about having a family one day, but that doesn’t mean I’m not genuinely happy for you. You’ve worked hard, and this is a well-deserved opportunity, Dani.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips; I’m relieved by her response, even if it doesn’t fully diminish the awkwardness. “Thank you, Remi. I just wanted to make sure.”
I can’t fight the way the thought of being partner feels like willingly strapping myself into a straitjacket. When the hell did this shift in perception happen?
Am I going to ruin my own life?
She nods, her gaze steady, hands now resting on her desk. “I understand. If you need anything, whether it’s advice or support, know I’m here for you.”
As I leave Remi’s office, I can’t help but feel like the universe is aligning to offer me everything I’ve ever wanted. Still, it feels like it’s conspiring to show me that maybe all the things I wanted weren’t actually for me. Maybe I was meant to live a different life.
My workload is lighter now that’s it’s closer to my due date; our events are typically planned far in advance.
So, I take the opportunity to head home and get the nursery together.
Thoughts of doing this alone have me reaching for my phone to scroll through old videos of me and Quintin doing all the baby things.
It was so easy in the moment to take these videos, growing to trust he’d be here with me later in life to look back on them.
The fact that he isn’t pisses me off.
And I can’t help but miss him. His smile, his warmth, his presence, so much that it aches behind my ribcage. I’ve never felt anything like this before, both loving and hating someone.
It feels like he’s pushing me to do something I don’t want to do, even if it’s the right thing. And I do hate him for it.
Just not as much as I hate his absence.