Chapter 44 Callie
Callie
Once I’m in the car, I pull up the address for Zane’s new high-rise he moved into not long after filming started for his reality show with Gigi.
I’ve never been there before.
When he visits with Nora, it’s always at my place. Occasionally, he’ll take her to the park or out for ice cream, but those visits are short-lived. He panics if she cries, gets flustered when she refuses to eat, and has absolutely no idea what to do when she’s overtired or clingy.
It doesn’t escape me that River is the exact opposite. He stepped into our lives with quiet confidence, responding to Nora’s needs as if he’s been doing it for years.
As if he enjoys it.
As if he always saw us as a package deal and never questioned if it was too much.
A lump forms in my throat as I pull out of the lot behind the bakery and merge into the slow crawl of mid-morning traffic.
It’s hard not to compare the two men.
Zane may be Nora’s biological father, but River’s been showing up for her in all the ways that matter.
Right now, what I need more than anything is clarity.
And the truth.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of a sleek glass-and-steel high-rise a few blocks off Lakeshore Drive.
I maneuver into a metered space and then sit for a moment, staring up at the modern facade.
Gold-lettered signage glints in the sunlight, and two valets stand at attention in tailored coats, ready to open doors with gloved hands.
Even from here, it’s obvious this place is far beyond anything I could afford on my own. I grab my purse and step out of the SUV, nerves stretching taut with every step toward the entrance.
A doorman in a dark suit gives me a quick nod as I pass, his attention fixed on the cluster of photographers loitering just outside the revolving doors.
“Miss! Are you here for Gigi?”
“Is the wedding still on?”
“Can you confirm the pregnancy rumors?”
Their questions are fired off in rapid succession without time for a response.
I duck my head and push through the glass doors, the noise trailing behind me like static I can’t quite shake.
Inside, the lobby is stunning. Marble floors gleam beneath my shoes, polished to the point where they reflect every light and shadow.
Navy velvet chairs are arranged in perfect symmetry around low, brass-trimmed tables stacked with glossy magazines I doubt anyone actually reads.
Above it all, a massive chandelier drips from the ceiling like glass rain, refracting light in a thousand directions.
It’s the kind of space that feels curated. As I move across the lobby, I pass two staff members standing behind the concierge desk.
One mutters, “These reality TV people are a nightmare. Why did the board approve their application?”
“Don’t get me started,” the other replies. “There’s a camera crew coming again this afternoon. Third time this week.”
Their voices trail off as I keep walking.
I half-expect to be stopped, questioned, or redirected. But one of the photographers from outside manages to slip in behind another guest, and security rushes to deal with him.
The moment buys me enough time to step into the elevator and press the button for the fifteenth floor. My fingers tremble as they leave the panel, and the doors close with a barely audible whoosh. The car begins its smooth, soundless ascent.
In the mirrored walls, my reflection stares back at me with shoulders that are squared, eyes that are sharp, and a mouth set in a firm line. Determination wars with dread on my face, and I’m not entirely sure which one is winning.
Once the elevator glides to a stop, the doors open to a hallway wrapped in quiet luxury. Plush carpeting muffles my footsteps as dark-paneled walls glow under muted, recessed lights. Everything about this place radiates exclusivity and power.
It’s a far cry from the modest apartment Zane used to rent.
This isn’t merely a different address, it’s a different world.
My pulse stutters the moment his unit number comes into view, and I slow to a halt in front of the door. My knuckles hover in the air before I force myself to rap them against the wood.
Silence.
I wait ten long seconds and then knock again. It’s louder this time, the sound sharper than I intend.
Still nothing.
Unease twists low in my stomach, warning that maybe this was a mistake. But I didn’t drag myself all the way here just to turn around. Not when I need answers and there’s so much at stake.
I shift my weight, teetering on the edge of retreat, when the lock clicks and the door swings open.
Gigi fills the doorway, framed by chic, modern lines and a warm glow that spills from inside. A rose-colored silk robe hangs precariously off one shoulder, exposing golden skin and a fair amount of cleavage.
She looks me over with a flat, disinterested gaze. “So, where’s the food?”
I blink, momentarily thrown off by the question. “Sorry. What?”
“The takeout,” she snaps. “Aren’t you from Gold Coast Table?”
“No.” I straighten, trying to reclaim some sense of control over the situation. “I’m not here with food. I’m Callie. Nora’s mother. We met at the Railers event last month.”
She squints, her perfectly glossed lips twisting slightly, as if she’s trying to place my face. There’s absolutely no flicker of recognition in her expression.
“Oh. Right,” she finally mutters.
I can’t help but wonder if she remembers Zane even has a child.
The robe slips again, this time leaving little doubt if she’s wearing anything underneath.
I quickly avert my gaze. “Is Zane here? Can I talk to him?”
Without answering, she turns her head and yells, “Zane! Your baby mama’s here!”
The words land like a slap. Before I can respond, she’s already walking away, her bare feet silent on the polished floors, leaving me standing awkwardly at the threshold.
I hesitate for only a moment before stepping inside.
The apartment is massive and pristine. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the lake in the distance as sunlight glints off the water.
The kitchen gleams, untouched and showroom ready.
Everything is minimalist and expensive looking, from the modern light fixtures to the oversized sectional sofa that looks like it’s never been sat on.
This place isn’t just nice. It’s high-end. Custom and luxurious.
It’s nothing like the one Zane used to live in, or the modest two-bedroom townhouse Nora and I called home. The contrast is stark.
While I’ve been clipping coupons and skipping meals to stretch our budget, he’s been living like a king.
A sharp pang twists in my stomach.
Even though I shouldn’t be shocked, I am.
Where was all this money when I needed help buying formula or paying the rent?
I take a moment to remind myself why I’m here.
The loan.
And the truth.
Zane appears in the hallway, tugging at the waistband of a pair of skintight jeans, the top button undone. His chest is bare, revealing the bruises and scrapes from last night’s game.
He drags a hand through his tousled hair, eyes widening slightly when he sees me standing in the entryway.
“Hey, Callie,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.” My weight shifts uneasily from one foot to the other.
His brow arches. “About what?”
My thoughts tangle in my head, too many crashing into each other to make sense of just one. I stare at him, stunned by how different this moment feels from the one we had last night.
I thought he’d know exactly why I was here.
That he’d be expecting an answer.
Instead, I’m standing in front of a half-naked man, fresh from someone else’s bed, after a woman in a silk robe called me his baby mama and then disappeared without a second glance.
Even though the truth is obvious, I still have to ask. “Last night… did you mean any of it?”
When he blinks and says nothing, my voice turns sharp. “What you said about wanting to be a family again. Was any of it real?”
His silence is deafening.
“I’m such an idiot,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
“Callie—”
I raise a hand to silence whatever pathetic excuse he’s about to offer. “Just answer one more question and then I’ll get out of your way.”
He hesitates. “Okay. What?”
“Did you pay off the bank loan for the bakery?”
His lips part like he’s about to lie, but a flicker of guilt, too quick to catch fully and too familiar to miss, flashes across his face. He glances over his shoulder, like maybe he’s afraid of being overheard before stepping closer.
“No.”
The word lands like a slap. “Then why would you tell me that you did?”
He shrugs, shifting on his feet. “I thought…”
When his voice trails off, something inside me snaps. “What? What did you think, Zane?”
“That it was probably River,” he mutters. “And I don’t like the thought of you two together. He shouldn’t be going after something that’s mine.”
I reel back a step, floored by the sheer arrogance. “I’m not yours. I’ve never been yours. You don’t get to claim me like property.”
“You don’t get it. I—”
“No, you’re the one who doesn’t get it,” I cut in, temper rising. “You don’t care about me or what’s best for our daughter. You care about control and spinning your life for some damn show. How dare you try and destroy someone else stepping up when you couldn’t be bothered.”
His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he bounces between defensive and pathetic. “He’s breaking bro code.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “That might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. River has been kind, loving, and steady to both me and Nora. And you tried to blow that up because you couldn’t stand the idea of someone else doing what you should’ve done all along.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is,” I snap. “You don’t get to rewrite history. And you don’t get to lie to me and take credit for something he did.”
My body shakes, but I don’t let myself cry.
Not here in front of him.
“You know what? I actually feel sorry for you.” My tone gentles. Not with sympathy, but with pity. “You’re missing out on your daughter’s life. The real moments. All the ones that matter. Someday you’ll realize that. I just hope it won’t be too late to undo the damage you’ve inflicted.”
Instead of giving him a chance to respond, I turn on my heel and head for the elevator. Even when he calls out my name, I don’t look back.
Because the man who actually loves me already gave me the truth without ever having to say a word.