36. For All the Daddies
36
FOR ALL THE DADDIES
DAISY
I open my eyes to find Willow sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed. Her red hair is tied up with a pen hanging from the loose messy bun, while her fingers tap rhythmically on the laptop before her.
“Is there any coffee left or did you drink it all?” I jerk my head toward the empty coffee pot on the nightstand.
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty. Plus, shouldn’t you be the last person to care about coffee right now?” Her furrowed brows slowly settle down.
“I care about you.” I loop my arm around hers. “So, tell me whose murder my bestie is planning this morning.”
“I’m not there yet. But if things don’t go the way I’d like, killing is definitely not off the table.” The serious, murderous look on her face has me laughing.
“I was joking, Wills!”
“I’m not.” She then abandons her laptop and fully turns toward me. “So? Anything?” She tilts her head in the direction of my tummy.
I’m not sure who out of the two of us is more eager for my morning sickness to kick in.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, a tad disappointed.
“Really? I thought pregnancy was supposed to be more dramatic.” And then she leans forward, eye level at my tummy. “You listen to me, champ. Your stuck-up dad, whose idea of a laugh is tilting his mouth to one side, has already ruined fifty percent of your chances of being a cool kid. But this aunt wants all the tantrums, so don’t be too shy in there.”
“You make that request when you’re having one of your own.” I laugh, pushing her away.
“That day is never coming. Don’t you know me at all?”
“How are we friends again?” A laugh slips past my lips at the sight of her serious face. “Me, a girl who couldn’t wait to have her own family, and you, who hates kids.”
“I don’t hate kids. I just don’t plan to have my own.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll see someday.”
Willow grins. “That’s what I’m saying. We won’t be seeing anything, any day.”
The doorbell chimes, and we both turn our heads toward the wall clock in sync.
“These two. Total clockwork these days.” Willow springs out of bed, pirouetting out of the room with a mischievous grin.
My gaze slants to the wall calendar, and the smile drops.
A week has passed since I sort of moved in with Willow because I had nowhere else to go. When I married Charles, I had to give up the lease on my old apartment. Keeping it would have meant leaving bait for the media and reporters who are always after Charles. And now, moving in with Dad was out of the question, since that would mean too much risk and explanation, especially when I have to keep my move under wraps.
It’s also been a week’s time to the day I broke the news of my pregnancy to Charles.
Also the day he walked out after saying I love you .
That date would be bold and highlighted in the brightest color if I wrote a daily journal.
Yet nothing has changed.
The divorce papers I requested are still MIA.
I remain employed at Hawthorne Holdings, even though I haven’t set foot inside the building for seven days and am completely oblivious to any potential corporate fires.
In the grand scheme, we’re living like strangers, and officially, we’re still bound together.
“Daisy! You coming?” Violet’s loud holler jerks me out of my mental freight train.
When I reach the living room, there’s a colorful and healthy spread of breakfast on the table like every other day this week. My friends have taken the notion of “they’re with me in this” to a whole new level. At least one of them, if not all, is constantly by my side.
We haven’t had this much girl time since our school days.
I plop down on the couch, and a familiar face stares back at me from Willow’s laptop screen.
“Why are you checking out Raymond Teager’s professional profile?”
Willow’s lips press together and eyes squint, but she doesn’t say anything.
“You are giving that look, Wills.” I raise an eyebrow.
“What look ?” she deflects, avoiding eye contact.
“The one that says you’re mentally cursing the guy without a filter,” Violet chimes in from her spot on the floor.
“Exactly that one!” I exclaim.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Teager. You look pretty hot in this picture.” Violet shifts the laptop for a better view, waggling her brows.
The Teagers and Elixir Inc. are as well-known in Cherrywood as the Hawthornes.
“Really? I thought he looked more like Satan or one of his demons.” Willow snags a piece of cheese from the platter Elodie is still arranging.
“And all the cute videos of puppies and kittens were unavailable this morning, so you were entertaining yourself with demonic men?” Elodie doesn’t break a smile, and I purse my lips to hold back my own.
Willow responds with a deep exhale, puffing out a heavy breath.
“Are you sure you’re not developing some secret crush on Daisy’s brother-in-law? No one would blame you if you are. Raymond is the hottest of them all.” Violet folds her arms over the edge of the table before resting her face on top.
Not from where I’m sitting. There’s never been anyone more handsome than Charles for me.
“Vi, give your gossipy journalist brain a break! Since you all seem to be so wrong, let me tell you. I’m searching for his weakness, okay?”
“What did that handsome man do to you?” Violet pushes a grape into her mouth.
“That Lucifer hiding behind an apparently pretty face is the man backing my cousin Gus to take away my grandfather’s land from me.”
“What?” Three gasps blend into one another.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I…I could have helped you.” I turn to face Willow properly now.
“All’s under control, girls. I’m already talking to a lawyer. I’m not going to let those assholes steal what’s mine.”
There’s an absolute determination in Willow’s face, and as much as I admire her self-confidence, I’m worried about her. Ray is notorious in the industry. If he’s locked his eyes on any real estate property, there’s a minus one percent chance that it doesn’t get acquired by Elixir Estates.
I lay my hand on her arm. “I can still try something, Wills.”
“No! Not at all.” There’s a horrified look on her face at my suggestion. “You and Charles have more important things to discuss when you’re both ready to talk.”
My heart sinks a little, because that day is slowly getting farther and farther away.
“I wasn’t talking about Charles. I can try talking to Ray and explain what this land means to you.”
I’ve witnessed Ray’s softer side with his daughter. Perhaps I can appeal to that humane part of his personality.
“Absolutely not! Can you believe what that jerk asked me in the first meeting? He wanted to know if I’d be calling Charles, in tears, begging him to talk to his cousin.”
“He actually said that?” I wince as Willow nods.
“That man is a pompous ass.”
“I bet he’s also got a nice ass, especially when it’s not hidden behind those tight pants.” Violet raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve seen much better-looking men.”
None of us are convinced, but we all nod, watching the deadly expression on our friend’s face.
“Can we discuss something else? The thought of Ray Teager’s bare ass is enough to make me want to throw up.”
“How’s the prep for tonight shaping up, Daisy? Need any help?” Elodie asks, as if the topic has been on the tip of her tongue all along.
“Nope. Aunt Mel, Kai, and Dad won’t let me near the preparations. It’s like it’s my birthday, not Dad’s.” I smile, appreciating this day with Dad, where, despite his memory lapses, he still remembers enough to celebrate.
Who knows if I’ll be here next year.
“Did you try to keep it a surprise from Jason?” Violet interrupts my thoughts before they can completely get swamped by worries of the future, and I shake my head.
“No. I want Dad to enjoy every moment of today, including the preparations.”
“And what about him ? Is…he coming?”
It doesn’t take a genius to know who Willow is asking about.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “But Dad personally called everyone last month.”
“I have a feeling Charles will be there.” Elodie settles next to me on the couch, carrying two cups of her Yogi tea and handing one to me.
Someday soon, I’ll have to break the truth to her. This tea might just do the opposite of its intended effect. Instead of calming my absent morning sickness, it might just provoke it.
“Charles is the kind of guy who always does the right thing,” Elodie continues.
“Always?” Violet raises an eyebrow toward my flat stomach. “Since when does leaving your pregnant wife become the right thing?”
“Vi!” I exclaim. “Can you be a little less dramatic? I asked Charles for a divorce, not the other way around.” I ignore the gnawing voice in my head, reminding me yet again that he never stopped me. “And I’m not some helpless woman.”
“Since Willow and Vi have already picked their ‘man I plan to hate the most today,’ can I ask something else?” Elodie takes a sip of her tea and asks in an even tone, “Your dad doesn’t know about you two not living together, but what about his family?” Her gaze points at my finger, where my wedding band and engagement ring are still sitting snugly.
The right thing would be to take them off, at least when I’m in the house, away from the public eye.
My mind reminds me of that at least once a day, but I’ve yet to heed. Parting with these rings would mean snapping off the last thread binding me to Charles.
“I don’t think they know either. I received a text from Chloe last night. She was at Charles’ place, and he told her I was staying with Willow because she’s going through some crisis.” I pause and turn to Wills. “Is it possible that he was talking about this?” I jerk my head toward Ray’s photo on her laptop.
“How would I know?” Annoyance paints her face. “But would you be surprised if his asshole cousin told your husband himself?”
“Are you okay with this? Pretending in front of your dad,” Elodie cuts through Willow’s irritation.
“I have to be because I’m not telling Dad, especially not today.” I close my eyes, imagining the moment my dad learns the truth. Oh, Daddy. “He loves Charles too much.” My heart pounds in a painful rhythm, and by the look of concern on my friends’ faces, they’re not missing anything. “I also fear that he’ll forget, and then I’ll have to tell him again every day. Or worse, he forgets that this has to be kept under wraps and tells someone.”
“Talk about a crisis.” Willow groans. “Charles Hawthorne should sort out his crisis first and then poke his nose into others’ business.”
It’s six in the evening and Dad’s living room buzzes with relatives, ex-colleagues, and friends from the neighborhood who have been witnesses to every twist and turn of our lives.
Kai manages the drink table, tactfully limiting the champagne intake of our geriatric guests and discreetly checking on their current medications before handing anyone anything.
“Wow! This turned out so much bigger than what I expected!” Aunt Mel fans her face with both hands.
“You’ve outdone yourself tonight. Dad is so lucky to have a sister like you.”
Her smile grows as my arms encircle her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, especially with Dad’s condition.” My throat tightens.
“Hey, Doodles.” She rubs my back with her usual motherly touch before stepping back. “Jason and you are my family. You never have to thank me for anything. Plus, your husband’s family just added more spark and zing to our evening. Did you see the cake Charles’ great-grandmother brought?”
Her eyes shine as her head slants toward the side table, where there’s a huge birthday cake with Dad’s name on top that Chloe and GG personally delivered. Right now, they’re both with Dad, and Chloe is busy taking pictures for their social media profiles.
I nod. “That’s really sweet of them.”
“It is. I’m so happy you found a loving family for yourself, kiddo. I must confess, when I first heard about you and Charles, I was skeptical. Everything was perfectly timed. He was pressured to marry, and a minute later, he conveniently announced you as his girlfriend. For a long time, I thought that man was blackmailing you.”
I freeze in my spot, the ball of nerves tightening around my throat like a too-tight necklace.
“But now I see you two together, and I feel so stupid to even doubt for a sec. That man loves you like crazy.” She pats my cheek affectionately, completely oblivious that I’m a second away from passing out. “Where is Charles anyway?”
I swallow hard a few times, my voice a bit shaky. “He should be here soon.”
In truth, I have no clue where he is or if he’s even coming.
She nods, giving me a warm smile, and then slips away to greet her friends as Violet and Elodie join us.
“Looks like we might get to see the only thing missing from this kick-ass party!” Violet grins before tipping her head toward the dark corner of the room. “Murder! Willow is one second away from ripping Raymond Teager’s head off, don’t you think?”
My mouth goes dry when I find Willow rising on her toes, her hands reaching for Raymond’s neck. Judging by her feelings toward the man, she’s definitely not trying to caress his face.
“Gosh! Are you crazy, Vi? Let’s go and stop them!” I’m all ready to intervene and prevent Willow from spending a night in jail, because I doubt Raymond will look the other way and not press assault charges if even Willow’s finger makes contact with him.
“You stay and see after the guests. I’ll check on Willow.” Elodie stops me from walking away. “And you, little quarrel connoisseur, help me, will you?”
My eyes are fixed on my friends as they pull Willow away from Ray, when a throat clears behind me.
“Hi.”
My heart catapults out of my body at the familiar voice—one that used to drive me crazy for four years, but now, after not hearing it for a week, I’m not sure how I survived these past few days.
I turn around slowly, my pulse beating at the highest rhythm.
Charles stands before me, looking more handsome than ever. His hair is slicked back, and he’s dressed in a sharp black suit, white shirt, a purple tie, and his signature Hawthorne crest cufflinks.
There’s an unmissable tightness on his face that I haven’t seen in a long time.
Since you moved in with him, you mean.
His gaze lingers on my face for a moment before dropping lower. Instinctively, my hands curl around my flat stomach.
Charles’ head snaps up, his eyebrows shooting high.
“Look who showed up at last!” Chloe’s playful jab draws my attention, and I find her standing between Charles and me. “Being fashionably late is practically a crime on your father-in-law’s birthday, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next year, sis.” Charles gives his sister a small smile.
Next year! Will we even be here like this next year?
“This is for Jason.” He presents a silver-wrapped box to me.
“Uh-huh. In case you forgot, it’s Jason’s birthday, not Daisy’s. If you want to gift your wife without reason, do that at your own home.” Chloe grins, as she links her one arm around her brother’s and the other with mine. “And FYI, the birthday boy is waiting for you, so you can eye-fuck each other later.”
My dad’s face lights up at the sight of Charles, and for just a second, I forget everything as my heart swells with happiness for my father.
There hasn’t been a single face he failed to recognize this evening.
I’m sure he’s feeling proud of himself.
“Hey, everyone, that’s my son-in-law.” My dad’s friends make room for Charles on the couch. “You all know him as one of the best businessmen in the country, but let me share a secret about Charlie—he’s the best son a man can ask for. I don’t worry about my Doodles.” Dad’s gaze finds me, and he beckons me over. “Hey, kiddo, what are you doing over there? Come here.”
He extends his hand, and in a heartbeat, I’m nestled between him and Charles.
“As I was saying, I no longer worry about my Doodles. I know this guy will take care of my daughter, her happiness, and her dreams even after I’m gone.”
“Dad!” I release a heavy breath, my lungs burning and my body trembling with overwhelming emotions. I’m on the verge of crying like a child when Charles’ hand gently rests against the small of my back.
When did his presence, his touch, become my anchor? The entire last week was a blur, going through the motions of life without much thought. Yet in this moment, my brain is acutely aware of everything.
His warm hand, the subtle circles he traces on my back—I missed him. I missed us.
“You’re making my wife emotional, Jason. I don’t like it,” Charles says in a lighthearted tone, but I catch the underlying seriousness.
Laughter ripples through everyone, even Dad, who affectionately pats my cheeks. “That’s why I love him so much. He’d fight for your happiness even with your own damn dad.”
“Did someone call for champagne?” Like a lifesaver, Kai appears, holding a huge tray of drinks.
Thank God, my poor heart can’t take any more of these emotional hits.
“A special drink for the most special man tonight.” He hands Dad a martini glass with clear soda and an olive. They share a wink. Before I can appreciate Kai’s presence in my parents’ home once more, he hands me a champagne glass like everyone else.
So much for being a lifesaver, Kai.
So far, I’ve managed to avoid drinks, either by discreetly leaving them on the table or surreptitiously tossing them into various indoor potted plants. I’d planned to apologize to all the flora for their imminent hangover later.
But right now, with all these people facing me, I have no clue how to get out of this.
“Cheers!” someone says, and before I know it, there’s a clinking of glasses, including mine.
“Hey, Daisy. You don’t like it?” Kai raises his eyebrow as I sit with my untouched drink.
Gosh, he’s watching too.
I’m about to bring it closer to my lips when Charles gets up, placing his empty glass on the table.
“Awesome, Kai. Can’t wait to have another one, my man.” He gives our temporary bartender a friendly pat on the back before extending his hand. “Mind if I steal Daisy for a moment?” he asks, but his tone is final. He’s not expecting anyone to interrupt him.
My breath stutters at the unexpected interruption. I rise on shaky legs, my brain debating for a second whether to stay or follow him, but ignoring Charles is not something I can ever do.
Charles stops in a corner behind a heavy beam, away from prying eyes.
Without a word, he snags my glass and throws back the drink.
“Let’s go.” He takes my hand, leading me away.
What in God’s name just happened?
I can’t tear my gaze away from the back of my husband’s head as he guides me back to my dad before settling down beside me.
I don’t get too much time to think, as the next round of drinks is served quickly.
Throughout the night, by one excuse or another, Charles manages to pry away the alcohol from my hand and empty it into his own mouth.
“Now that’s a pretty sight.” Ray snaps a picture of Charles leaning against the porch wall. One arm is thrown over my shoulders, keeping him upright.
“Go away,” Charles mumbles, eliciting another laugh out of Ray.
I’ve never ever seen Charles drink irresponsibly. Knowing there’s a slim chance of a repeat performance, Ray’s enthusiasm makes complete sense.
“Did you just figure out tonight that party drinks are free and decided to make up for all the missed opportunities, brother?”
“Some dads quit drinking, and some get drunk for their babies. You should feel guilty for making fun of me, Daddy I-don’t-drink-anymore,” Charles slurs, head thrown back, eyes shut.
His hearing must be impaired too, because there’s no way he missed my loud, untamed gasp. All I can do is gape at him, struggling to find the words to express the strange feeling in my chest.
Did he just indirectly refer to himself as a dad?
“Do we both agree your husband is more intelligent when drunk, Daze?” Ray smirks, tipping his lips to one side.
“Stop bothering my wife, and by the way, her name is Daisy. D-A-I-S-Y,” Charles enunciates before growling, and his hand tightens around my shoulder as he pulls me closer. “You’re not allowed to call her by any other nickname.”
If I had the power to freeze one moment of my life, it would possibly be this. On my dad’s special day, my husband is not just defending me but also our unborn baby.
A shiver races down my spine, and my skin prickles with a mix of heat and cold. It’s as if every nerve ending is on high alert, desperate to remember this rare moment for eternity.
“If I didn’t love you, Charlie, I’d have shot a video of you and shown it to everyone.” Ray holds his cousin’s head with both hands and places a kiss on top.
Am I freaking dreaming or did Raymond Teager, real estate shark, just kissed his cousin’s forehead?
His cheeks flush as he tucks his hands back into his pockets, stealing a glance at me. “I just got carried away. Don’t mention this to him or anyone. Please.”
“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I did. I’m having a hard time believing what just happened wasn’t a dream.”
He grins before motioning toward Charles. “Good. Do you need any help?”
I shake my head. “Steve and Dave will swing by Charles’ place. Once he’s settled in bed, they will drop me off at my friend’s. If we leave separately, my dad will get suspicious.”
Ray’s chest heaves as he releases a weighty breath. “I hope my dumbass brother realizes fast that he’s losing the most amazing time of his life.” He turns to leave, pausing on the first porch step. “You take care, Daisy. I look forward to meeting my nephew or niece in a few months, and I can’t wait to see my Quillbug play with a little brother or sister.”
“You and me both, Ray.” My voice cracks at his genuine smile.
With a final nod, he leaves. I can’t pull my gaze away from the man whose vulnerability for his daughter echoes that of any other dad, when in every other sense, vulnerable is not a word one would use for Ray.
“Daisy. Charles. Are you two still here?” Dad steps out of the door, now dressed in his nightclothes.
“Yes, I wanted to wish you a good night before leaving.”
The conversation seems to wake up Charles, who encircles Dad in a hug. “It was a freaking awesome party, Jason.”
Dad’s eyes crinkle with suppressed laughter. “You take care of him tonight, Doodles. I’m sure he’s going to regret it in the morning.”
“I will.” Pulling Charles back and settling him against the wall, I hug my dad. “Happy birthday, Daddy. I’m already looking forward to next year.”
“Me too, kiddo.”
“Me three,” Charles slurs.
Charles is almost asleep as I guide him to his bed. Leaning him against the headboard, I remove his shoes and gently place his feet on the bed.
“Help me a little, Charles,” I groan, struggling with the task of removing his jacket.
“Are you trying to take advantage of me, my dear wife?” he mumbles, eyes closed, a grin playing on his face that can only be described as cute.
I’ve always loved it when he called me those three words, my dear wife .
I belong to him. I’m dear to him.
After I untie his tie, my hands move to his collar, and I unbutton it. His eyes open, and our gazes meet, his blue irises locking with my browns. The nerve endings at the back of my neck tingle.
I break the contact first, putting an end to the growing sense of longing that consumes me the longer I spend in this room.
“This week was horrible. I fucking missed you, butterfly. I lo…” Charles’ voice trails off as my eyes flutter open to find his head hanging low.
Oh, Charles.
Gently, I help him lie down and cover him with the comforter. As he begins to breathe deeply, my gaze drifts from his calm face to the other nightstand, exactly as I left it a week ago. The entire room feels unchanged—my purple towel still hangs on the vanity chair, and my makeup and skincare that I left behind in my rush are neatly arranged on the table alongside Charles’ cologne and accessories. Why hasn’t he thrown my things out yet?
Something heavy clogs in my throat, giving me false hope. I look away and pour him a glass of water, placing a pack of Advil next to it.
I know I should go, but my legs won’t move. My brain continuously screams at me that I’m being foolish to leave Charles and this place that has started to feel like mine.
“Take care.” Leaning in, I plant a kiss on his forehead. I turn around again, ready to take a determined step away from the man who’s completely stolen my heart, but he snags my hand.
“Stay, butterfly,” he whispers, his eyes closed, yet his grip on my hand is tight. “I wish I was enough for you.” His words linger in the air.
“Charles,” I whisper back, my voice breaking. “Please don’t do this.” A hiccup escapes me as his eyes slowly open.
“Do you know how much I fucking love you?”
It’s the second time he’s said those words, and a tear spills from my eyes at the raw vulnerability on his face.
“Does that not count for anything?”
“It means everything to me and so much more, Charles.” I get down on my knees, our faces merely inches apart. Leaning in, I whisper against his lips, “I love you too. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” My lips touch his, causing him to inhale sharply.
“I missed you.”
“Me too. But our situation still hasn’t changed, or has it?” I keep the annoying hope that starts to build away from my voice.
For the first time tonight, it’s Charles who makes the first move to pull away. He rests his head against the pillow.
“I can’t do this, Daisy.” There’s sheer pain in his voice, as if something inside him is tearing him apart.
“Why? Is it all because of your mom?” I blurt, not expecting a response, but he opens the nightstand drawer and takes out a metal box. He hands it to me before closing his eyes.
“Good night, Daisy.”
I step into the living room with the box tucked under my arm to find Mrs. K sitting at the dining table.
“These are date cookies I made a few days back. If you have a craving for sweets, these are healthy.” She hands me a paper bag.
“Thank you so much.” My voice cracks, and she cups my cheek with her hand.
“Everything is going to be all right, dear. He loves you too much to let you go.”
I nod, knowing Charles does love me, but there’s something else that is much stronger pulling him away from me.
When I arrive at Willow’s place, she’s perched on the floor in the middle of her living room, surrounded by her laptop and a stack of papers.
“How did it go with Charles?” she asks, setting aside her work.
I shrug, hanging my coat on the rack and avoiding eye contact. “He was passed out most of the time.”
“And what about you? How are you?” She studies me closely as I turn around.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Do you want to talk?”
I shake my head. “No, I think I want to be alone for a while.”
“Gotcha. But if you need anything, like a pair of ears to hear you out, just holler, okay?”
“Thanks, Wills.” I smile, then motion to the stack before her. “Um, and I wish you the best of luck with whatever you have planned for tonight.”
“Thanks. The perfect plan would have been to murder Raymond Teager, but since I heard the jails are fully booked these days, I’ll settle for doing serious damage to his reputation and a body part he’s so proud of.”
“Be careful, Wills. Ray has a reputation for being ruthless.”
She waves a carefree hand at my concern. “We’ll see who’s more ruthless between the two of us. And, Daze, this came for you a few days back.” She grabs an envelope from her stack of unopened letters. “Sorry. In all the stress, I missed checking the mailbox.”
My hands shake as I grab the white cover that has a Hawthorne seal on the back.
Did Charles finally send me the divorce papers?
Looking at the metal box and the unopened envelope placed on the bed, I know I can’t ignore them any longer. I’ve already changed out of the dress and into my pajamas and done more skincare tonight than I did the whole week.
My hands shake and my eyes betray me as I repeatedly blink, but the wetness never disappears.
Fuck it.
This is what you asked for, Daisy. Now face it.
I grab the envelope and tear it open without pause. Brushing a hand over my cheeks and wiping away the tears, I read the text.
What the heck?
I reread it as my lungs start to burn. The words make no freaking sense.
Charles Hawthorne transfers 100% of his current and future wealth to Daisy Price-Hawthorne.
Oh, Charles! What have you done?
But why are you surprised, Daisy?
Charles has always been fair in business, but when it comes to relationships and family, he’s unprecedented . He’s the same man who cooked with my dad, threatened reporters for me, and destroyed Jax’s business.
So, of course, when it comes to his own child, how would he make any exception?
But he never wanted to be a dad!
I drop the pages onto the bed and open the latch on the metal box, hoping it’ll have an answer to why Charles’ lawyer is playing such a bad joke on me.
There are envelopes—fifty, maybe even more—in various sizes and colors, and all addressed to the same name. Monica. I turn the first one around and take out the letter. My gaze immediately drops to the bottom of the page.
Your loving son, Charlie.
My heart sits back so deep in my chest that I fear it’ll stay there forever.
These are letters from Charles to his birth mother!
I sift through the envelopes, which seem to be carefully chosen, and based on Charles’ writing, I make an assumption about his age for each one.
My hands stop when I find the one that seems to be the oldest of all.
Dear Mom,
I miss you. A lot.
Your loving son,
Charlie.
The words are written on a lined paper in a child’s broken writing. Knowing the confident man that Charles has grown into, it’s almost impossible to imagine him as a kid. Someone who would make simple mistakes, like write his letters wrong. But these letters are proof that behind the unflappable exterior beats a heart that once pined for affection.
My eyes burn as I put all the letters back into their envelopes and bring the box close to my heart. Tears spill from the sides of my eyes, getting lost in my hair, and slowly things start to piece themselves together.
He’s scared.