Chapter 3
HAYES
Ispotted Elodie at the party and felt an instant rush of elation that I unexpectedly found her, but it was quickly replaced by confusion and anger. Now, I'm on a bench with a woman as beautiful as ever—except she’s had two years with my daughter that I never got.
She seems nervous, and rightfully so. I'm not being the man who holds himself up to a high caliber. Because all I feel is determination not to make this easy for her—I want her to feel my anger for losing two years with my daughter, missing her milestones, and knowing I can't turn back time.
The last hour, I've been questioning my approach to the situation.
I could be a man who hesitates, demands a paternity test, and puts his life on hold until evidence provides clarity.
Or I can be a man who takes control of the situation, calls the shots, and approaches the news as I would with everything else in my life.
Be determined and avoid failure. There is no middle ground for me.
It's not in my nature. I'm doing my damn best to talk myself out of this approach, but my emotions keep winning the battle.
Fatherhood? It has everything to do with honor and responsibility. Fatherhood and protectiveness are also simply a natural instinct that apparently I had and didn't even know it. I want this.
There is another reason deep down, but I’m not ready to fully confront it.
Sometimes in life, surprises awaken inner aspirations, right?
But holy mother of… I didn’t know I had a daughter.
And I want to get straight to the point because my mind is running a thousand miles a minute.
“When did you find out?” I begin, my voice steady.
“When I was six weeks pregnant. I had a lot of nausea.”
I’m beginning to take in the details. Elodie is younger, early in her career, and I wasn’t in the picture. That begs me to wonder. “And you wanted to keep her?”
Her eyes move to cut right through me. “Yes.” She’s frustrated that I would even ask.
“You should have tried harder to find me.”
Elodie sighs as we both look forward, probably at the stack of hay with a scarecrow sitting on top outside the coffeehouse called Foxy Rox.
“Except privacy laws really make hotels unwilling to comply, Hale. Do you really want to go around in circles? What’s most important is that you know this wasn't intentional.”
It's a fair point. I look at her, and she meets me halfway. A quick memory of her in my arms, laughing and smelling of coconut, flashes by. We never ran out of things to say that night. But facts remain. “We barely know each other,” I admit.
I can't read her facial expression, but she seems to accept it.
“I don’t know what to do now,” she admits. “I don’t need your money or expect—”
I chuckle under my breath, bitterness tightening my voice because the facts of the matter return.
"It’s simple how this is going to go. I want you to know I’m determined to set things right with regard to Lola.
Everything has come to mind while I waited for you.
There are logistics. You will receive child support for all the years of missed payments.
Lola can have her last name changed. A trust will be set up for her.
My name is sure as hell going on that birth certificate, and I expect 50/50 on custody. " Each word lands sharply.
She stands with her fists clenched and her face beginning to turn red. “No! You can't just waltz right in and uproot our lives. Her life.”
I stretch my arm along the bench, jaw set. "‘Waltz’ is generous, sweetheart. I never even knew she existed. I lost two irreplaceable years, and that’s not something I can just accept."
Elodie grasps that I’m not backing down with my requests and quickly sits down with panic glinting in her eyes.
She angles her body to me, intent on making me listen.
“Will you stop! I get it. You missed it all and I didn't, but you need to take a step back. This is a lot to process. I clearly move at a different pace than you. And you have yet to meet Lola.” Her eyes pinch shut, then open, at the reality.
“I mean properly, not spontaneously across a yard.”
“Then we make that happen,” I say, direct, even if every word she said is chipping away at this exterior I've chosen to wear today.
She grumbles in frustration, and in another fucked-up world where this wouldn't be our topic, I would consider it sexy as fuck.
Her hand movements signal for me to calm down. I pause, breathe, and reflect on where this conversation is heading. I perhaps need to take my foot off the gas pedal a bit. And I do, but I’m left in a cloud of curiosity.
“Allergic to pineapple,” I say faintly, remembering our earlier conversation. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.
A subtle ease finds her. “Yeah. Not serious but enough to keep being cautious.”
Is this our starting point to step away from the legal talk of custody and those things? For me to calm down?
“When did she start to walk?”
“Thirteen months, though walk is an understatement—she ran. She’s learning to talk: animals, people, cookies. She has a stuffed bunny named Bagel.”
My mouth cracks into a half-smile from that. “Bagel?”
Elodie shrugs, smiling. “She named her at brunch a few weeks ago, and it stuck. Lola loves blueberry bagels with strawberry cream cheese.”
It slips into my mind. The fact that this woman in front of me carried my child for nine months and brought her into the world. “Labor went okay?”
She nods. “Yeah, I mean, I guess average. Savannah was there. She’s Lola’s godmother.” Our circles are even more entwined.
“Why the name Lola?”
Shrugging, she still maintains a soft smile. “I wanted something similar to me. Kind of had this view that it would be her and me, best friends hopefully. Plus, it’s a cute and playful name.”
“It’s not going to be just you and her anymore.” My voice is soft because the idea of her doing this all alone pings inside me. It's what she has been doing, but I'm in the picture now.
I like hearing things about Lola. I'm melting a bit. I can't help but wonder what it would've been like to witness her milestone moments. What would I have felt? Now, I can only imagine, as anger refuels inside me.
But then I recall seeing Lola for the first time and the lightning strike without doubt that she’s mine. The shape of her mouth and nose was the giveaway; her eyes are far too familiar to my own. I tamp down my emotions and shock because I crave to learn every little detail about her.
“You'll send me photos?” I'm eager.
“Of course.”
“What else does she like?”
“Playing. I think avoiding naps might be her hobby. She loves the small slide at daycare.” Elodie’s affection shows in her tone. I remember her as angelic and bright.
"Daycare?”
She glances sidelong at me, but with reassurance. “Yeah, Haven Crossroads has one. I'm sure you know all of those things, Mr. New COO.”
Shit, I am.
The mother of my child works there, and no one knows I’m Lola’s father—but that’s about to change.
"We are going to have to address that dynamic. The office one. But Lola at daycare is perfect. I can check on her anytime.”
Elodie inhales a sharp breath. "Right.” Her voice is unsteady. “We have to go slow. You can't just show up when you want. She needs structure… I need to, well, figure you out and your intentions.”
My lips quirk out as I consider. “Makes sense, but I'm not backing down from my original thought. I'm entering her life—because I have to, for Lola and for me—and I won't let this be simple. There's too much at stake to just let it go.”
“Can we slow down? I'm also overwhelmed. I didn't think I would see you again. This is big. Not just for me but for Lola, and she has no idea.”
An instinct has my hand moving to comfort her, but I pull back before I touch her. We should keep a respectable wall between us while we figure out the basics. I’m probably being stubborn—any friend would say unreasonable—but right now, I ignore it. This situation stings.
“I'm not going to wait long. I want to meet her properly soon. It's a big week with the announcement of my joining Haven Crossroads, but now, Lola is an even bigger event.”
She scoots away like I'm suddenly a hot plate. We both glance quickly at a car going by. This town is almost eerily calm. People say “good day” in passing, even if they notice that two people are in the most important conversation of their lives.
“By chance, in the city I got a place with three bedrooms, and there’s a pool in the building. There’s space for Lola.” And you. That comes to my mind for a second, but that's a mistake. Or is it? We have to get to know one another a lot better.
Elodie tightens her sweater around her slim curves, disgruntled. "I'm at a loss for words. You'll meet her in a few days. After that, I hope we can find a way forward. It doesn't have to be messy, but it's always been her and me. I can't just let her go half the time."
I feel like an insufferable jerk, but the ache is still there—I want to scream, to demand why it had to be this way. Alas, this is the hand I’m forced to play, and I’ll fight for every bit of lost time.
I stand, making my resolve unmistakable. "I warned you you’d hate me, but I keep my promises. This is happening—my lawyer will be in touch."
Her face turns pale, and her jaw drops. She stands, infuriated.
“You have every right as her biological father to know Lola and play a role in her life if you’re serious.
But you know what? I'm getting the gist that so far today you are not being the best version of yourself. So figure it the fuck out so we can move forward.”
And she storms away.
“You're being an asshole,” Julian berates me as he sits behind his desk overlooking the city.
There’s coffee and croissants on the table, but this breakfast meeting tanked in seconds.
“Am I? Tell me, oh wise one, what would you do in my shoes?” I challenge as I unbutton my blazer on my three-piece suit and saunter to the desk.