21. TED
21
TED
T he days that followed were a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. I woke up every morning with Adele beside me—her silky hair strewn across the pillows, her soft breaths brushing against my neck. The coffee tasted richer, the sky seemed brighter, and life felt lighter with her in my arms.
Life was just fucking better.
Yet, there was always that gnawing anxiety lurking in the back of my mind—Elena. Not just Elena, though—the baby.
A fucking baby.
She hadn’t reached out since our last conversation, but her being pregnant shadowed every moment of joy with Adele. It was like rain clouds creeping in on a perfect summer’s day—distant enough to ignore, but ominous enough to remind me that the storm could strike any moment.
Still, I tried. I pushed myself to focus on the happiness in front of me because I was alive again for the first time in ten years.
Adele’s laughter—the way it erupted unexpectedly at the most minor things—filled the once-empty corners of my life. She’d brought colour and light into the shadows I didn’t even realise I’d been living in.
We spent our days making small moments feel big—breakfasts in bed, long, lazy walks through the park, her hand always finding mine as if it had been looking for it all along.
“You know, I still can’t believe this is real,” Adele murmured one quiet evening as we lay entwined on her sofa, eyes flickering to the glow of the candles she’d lit on the coffee table. Ernie, her ever-grumpy cat, was tucked at her feet like a sentinel, his eyes never too far from her.
“It is,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled against my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over the thin material of my shirt. Yet, I could feel her hesitation—the weight of unspoken things between us.
I got it—I did, but finally, we had each other...why couldn’t we concentrate on that?
“We need to stop pretending, Ted,” she said suddenly, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, her face illuminated by the soft candlelight. “I mean...about Elena.”
I’d been waiting for it. Hell, I’d been ready for it. And yet, the name still hit like a punch to the stomach.
“I know,” I murmured, running a hand through my hair.
“What’s going to happen with her? With...the baby?” Adele’s voice was steady, but there was a tremor beneath it, one I recognised well—fear, insecurity.
And how could I blame her?
It wasn’t an easy question to answer.
“I’ll support my child,” I responded firmly, meeting her gaze. “But I don’t want anything to do with Elena beyond that. This isn’t about us anymore—this is about my child. And, Adele...” I reached for her, lacing my fingers with hers. “You’re my future. We’re the future. Elena’s in the past.”
She looked down for a moment; her lips pressed into a tight line as she absorbed my words.
I hated seeing her insecurities laid bare like that, so vulnerable. They didn’t deserve to be dragged into the light, but I would’ve felt the same if our roles were reversed. If it were Adele’s belly swelling with someone else’s child... I clenched my teeth, tension rolling through me like a wave. Her hand squeezed mine, bringing me back to the present.
“I just don’t ever want to be the reason for...complications,” she commented finally, her blue eyes lifting to meet mine, searching for hope.
“There’s nothing about this that’s easy,” I admitted.
Understatement of the century.
“No shit,” she whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Still...I’ll handle it. I will.” I meant it, too.
I can’t lose Adele, I won’t.
But my child would need me, and I wouldn’t ever shirk away from my responsibilities. Not now. Not ever. Especially considering the world in which they would be brought up.
Her eyes softened, though the worry never quite left them, even when she leaned in to kiss me again.
The following days flew by in moments both bittersweet and perfect. I took her out to the Magnolia to see Orion’s band perform, and we laughed over too many drinks, Adele pressing her lips to my ear to whisper sweet insults about their questionable taste in cover songs.
In those moments—when her head was thrown back with unrestrained laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners—I felt the weight of everything fade away.
But it always came back.
Elena had yet to make her next move, but I knew her well enough to know she would. She was biding her time, probably crafting some new plan in her calculating mind.
I didn’t trust her at all.
I spent a night or two tossing and turning, wondering if she’d try to claim full custody of the baby—use any leverage she had against me. I wouldn’t let her. If my child was to exist in this world, I wouldn’t let it grow up in the toxic, manufactured world Elena had created around herself. Money, fame, all of it—none mattered to me anymore. It was all noise.
Adele was what mattered.
“Hey.” Adele’s voice broke through the haze of thoughts, and I turned to find her standing in the bedroom doorway, dressed in an oversized band T-shirt. Her eyes searched mine with quiet concern. “You with me?”
God, she’s stunning.
I nodded, pulling her into my arms. “I’m always with you,” I repeated softly, more to myself than her.
“Good,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against my chest. “Because Ted...we can do this.”
Her words were a lifeline, and I clung to them tightly, burying my head in the crook of her soft neck.
But still…the worry lingered. Elena was out there and wasn’t the kind to disappear without a fight.
And I had a feeling that fight would come soon.
But first, I had a different fight to have.
With my parents.
I’d managed to avoid them long enough. Hell, I had successfully convinced myself that their overbearing concern and opinions were part of a life I’d left behind. But I could feel the swell of inevitability at my back. It loomed, threatening to crash over me like a rising tide.
Adele and I arranged a dinner at the small Italian restaurant down the street, a place busy enough to drown out any uncomfortable silences with the clinking of plates and the murmurs of other diners. Still, I could almost hear the question hanging in the air before we even stepped inside.
“Are you ready for this?” Adele asked, her eyes searching mine as we walked.
I shrugged, trying to mask the growing knot in my stomach. “They’re my parents. It’ll be fine.” The words felt hollow even as I said them.
But the moment we sat down, all that bravado evaporated. My mother’s eyes widened as she took in Adele, her shocked expression nearly comical. “Edward…” she started, the disapproval so palpable that I half-expected it to materialize like a wall between us.
“Mum, it’s...it’s good to see you.” I tried to keep my voice steady, willing my heart to stop racing like a runaway train.
“Who’s this?” my father, with his heavy brow and steely gaze, cut in, the disbelief in his voice sharp enough to slice through the chatter.
“This is Adele. She’s…someone I care about.”
“Care about?” He leaned forward, brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me this is the woman you’ve chosen after everything with Elena?” His words were like a cold slap.
“Dad, please. Not now.” I felt Adele’s hand slip into mine beneath the table.
“You need to be careful,” my mother interjected, her placating tone an uneasy mix of empathy and reproach. “You have responsibilities now…with the baby.”
Like they gave a shit about the baby. All they cared about were appearances.
Adele squeezed my hand tighter, her warmth grounding me amidst the storm. I could feel her anxiety mingling with mine. I had to be the one to break through my parents’ judgment—shield her from this.
“I know what my responsibilities are, and I will take care of them,” I replied, forcing calm into my voice, but feeling the edge of frustration. “What I need is your support for once, not judgment.”
My father’s mouth tightened into a line, his expression firm. “This isn’t just about you. This is about us and your child. Our reputation is on the line here.” His irritation was evident, and instead of bowing my head like I always did, I shook it.
“Actually, this is about me.”
My parents stared at me with matching stunned expressions, but my mother spoke first, glancing at my father warily.
“Edward, you’re engaged to be married . We discussed this years ago. Everything is arranged.”
“Arranged?” Adele echoed, visibly paling.
I gritted my teeth and squeezed her hand. I should’ve told her about the arrangement. But I got swept away in everything...
“Yes, dear.” My mother smiled at Adele, but it has no depth to it, no real meaning. She was afraid, like she always had been, of my dad. “Elena is good for Edward.” Her gaze drifted over Adele like she was vermin, and I lost it.
“More like your reputation and bank balance,” I snapped back.
Adele’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and admiration radiating from her as she glanced at me. I could sense her surprise—she hadn’t seen this side of me, the defiant son refusing to bend under the pressure of established expectations after years of abiding by it.
“Mum, stop. You don’t get to arrange my life, and neither does Dad.” I let the tension roll off my shoulders and looked straight into my father’s piercing gaze. “This isn’t about you, or the past, or some fabricated idea you’ve created in your heads. It’s about me and my choices now. About this incredible woman I care about. Not Elena. Not some obligation.”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. It almost felt like the restaurant had dimmed its lights, shifting into a strange twilight, all sound fading into a distant hum. I could almost hear my heart pounding in that pause, the thud echoing in my ears.
My mother’s face began to crumple, torn between outrage and sorrow. “Edward, please. Think about what you’re saying. You’re throwing away everything we’ve built for you.”
“Everything?” I remarked, incredulity slipping into my voice. “You mean everything that was built for you. This is my life. I’m not a pawn to be moved on your chessboard anymore.”
Adele’s hand felt warm in mine, a steady reminder that I wasn’t alone in this fight. She was my angel. I turned to her, grounding myself in her presence before facing my parents again.
“Mom, Dad, I’m grateful for everything you’ve provided, but I need to carve my own path. Life doesn’t fit neatly within the box you’ve created, and neither does love.” I could see the flicker of fear in my mother’s eyes, the flicker of something she’d hidden behind years of expectations and appearances.
“Love?” my father scoffed, his voice cutting through the lingering tension like a knife slicing flesh. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Edward. This—a child with Elena hanging like a shadow over you—this’ll ruin you.”
“In what fucking world?” I shot back, struggling to rein in my emotions. “Why would you assume that taking responsibility makes me weak? I’m doing everything I can to break this pattern, this cycle of fear and obligation. It ends with me.”
Adele was tense beside me, but she tilted her head, closing the distance between us. “Edward,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the sharp edges of the confrontation. “It’s okay.”
Her words seemed to ignite a spark within me, reigniting the courage I thought had been washed away by years of their disapproval. I turned to face my parents once more, unwilling to back down.
“You may not understand my choices, but I’ve found someone who sees me for who I am, not for who you want me to be. Adele is a breath of fresh air, a chance for something real, and I’m not ready to let that go.”
“Edward,” my mother started, her voice trembling, “What if this ends badly? What if you’re making a mistake?”
“Then that will be my mistake to make,” I responded, my resolve swelling. “I won’t die a slow death trying to please you. I deserve happiness, and so does my child.”
“Mistakes have consequences.” My father’s jaw clenched, the very mention of consequences a weighty reminder of our family’s past.
“I understand that more than you know,” I replied, my voice low but steady. “But living without authenticity is the biggest mistake of all. I refuse to let fear dictate my life any longer.”
I could see my mother wrestling with her emotions, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she wanted to argue but was caught in the net of her own uncertainty.
Adele’s fingers tightened around mine, and I felt her steady, grounding presence ripple through me. This was my moment—a moment not just for me, but for us.
Just then, a server approached, dangerously oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “What can I get you folks?” he asked, flashing an innocent smile.
I took a deep breath, the tension in my body easing under the mundane interruption. “We’ll have a bottle of the house wine, please,” I said, a hint of defiance slipping into my voice. “And some bread.”
As the server walked away, my mother attempted a softer approach, her features softening at the edges as she sighed. “Edward, if this woman genuinely means something to you, then maybe...maybe we can try to understand.”
I gazed at her while stroking Adele’s hand.
“Good. I suggest you start trying.”