Chapter 15 Brunch
Eva
A vintage Maserati appeared in front of my choice of diner. People stared.
“A fucking Maserati. Too predictable,” I said to myself.
For the first time, I saw the man I’d only seen before in trousers or a full suit sporting nothing but a t-shirt, a Cubs hat, and khaki shorts.
He looked normal—a mere mortal. As he entered the diner, I gave him a small wave, and he slid into the booth across from me.
We didn’t hug like old friends or kiss like lovers.
We were neither. Despite the awkward dance, we focused on coparenting.
“Your car is… attracting followers.”
“It’s a 1971 Ghibli Spyder. It should,” Davey said, like I should know what that meant. “I inherited it. It was my dad’s. First, my grandfather’s, then my dad’s, now mine.”
“It’s nice,” I said. “And totally impractical given our discussion today.”
He grimaced. “Well, that’s not my daily driver.”
“So, the Bentley?”
“That’s my car when I’m not driving. I have a G-Wagon. You can put car seats in a G-Wagon, Eva.”
“Fine,” I said. “That is true. “How do you—one man—have three cars?”
“Lots of people have a car for nice days and a car for work,” Davey shrugged.
Lots of rich people.
“What do you drive? Are you investing in a mom mobile?” Davey looked over the menu.
A server with blue hair and anime tattoos appeared. “Can I get you coffee or anything?”
Davey looked over. “I’m ready to order if you are, Eva.”
“I’ll have an order of french toast with double the whipped butter and syrup on the side,” I said. “And you already brought my coffee, so I’m good.”
“I’ll have a mug of coffee and breakfast platter 5. I’ll have eggs and the hashbrowns not the home fries.”
The woman nodded and took our menus.
“So, what is your ride?” Davey pressed.
“I drive a 1997 Ford F-250. It is beat up, both mirrors are scraped to hell, there are no cupholders, and it sounds like a plane taking off.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Definitely not. I’ll show it to you if you want. It even has a bench seat.”
“How old are you versus that thing?”
“It’s a little wild,” I admitted. “But it’s our other vehicle. We haul hay with it and pull a horse trailer. It’s the car that taught me how to drive. But really, I just needed something until I had money to buy a car outright. Or enough of a paycheck to get less-shady financing.”
“What?” Davey cocked his head.
“I have very little money from before my split,” I said. “Not enough to buy a reasonable car. And I have no credit in this country—only in the UK. It counts for essentially nothing.”
“Shit. Well, we should remedy that.”
I shook my head. “David, I don’t want to do that. This is why we’re meeting. I will buy a car when I can get a good deal—”
“I’ll just buy you a car. It’s for our kid. You deserve to have a safe car. If that truck got in an accident—”
“What if your car got in an accident?” I asked. “Don’t police my body.”
He backed off.
“Okay, so here’s what I want,” I got back to business. “I don’t want to exclude you as you demonstrate sincere intent. I also need you to understand that babies are dependent mostly on their mothers. They need us for food and general welfare for the first few months.”
Davey nodded. “Yeah. The baby will need to feed every couple hours at first—at least once every 3-4 hours. And then it just depends. So, it’s not like you will be going far for awhile.”
I cocked my head. “What are you, Encyclopedia Britannica?”
He blushed. “I read some stuff.”
It was endearing beyond measure.
“So, I don’t think overnight custody exchanges are going to be a thing in the first year of life. That’s just being realistic. If it changes or we want to try some things, we can do that. I don’t even know if you want to be responsible for any of this. I don’t want to speak for you.”
“Why?” Davey asked as the server brought coffee. “I’m the baby’s parent. I should want to parent. That’s not my concern.”
“What is?”
“Bonding? It’s my baby, too. I will ultimately defer to you because your body has kept it alive and will continue to. I know that Cal has taken a rather hands-off approach on these matters, as Daphne is the one growing a human. I still want to bond, Eva.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what my situation is, and I am not sure how comfortable my parents will be with you dropping in.”
“Oh, you’re planning on staying… here?”
“Well, my parents are both retired. They can help me. You’ll be busy working. The commute doesn’t make sense.”
His face fell.
“Don’t start with the puppy dog eyes, Davey,” I sighed.
“Eva, I want to be there. I am taking leave.”
“CEOs don’t take leave.”
“Well, my dad fucking did!” Davey’s frustration bubbled.
I took a deep breath, not wanting to fight. His indignation came from a good place.
“You said your dad was involved—”
“My dad took leave even if he was also available. Don’t ask me how it will work, but we will figure it out.
Daphne will be back by then. I can jump in for the big things, but that first month should be all about you recovering and the baby growing.
I want to bond. Even if I must sleep on a motherfucking couch, I will do it. I just want to be there.”
He thought this through.
“You say this like it is instinct.”
“I’m the dad, so it is.”
I shrugged.
“Why are you so resistant to believing me?”
“I don’t know you,” I said.
“And?”
“I want to believe you. I want to also believe that you don’t feel the need to buy me or my child off. I don’t need your money.”
Davey groaned. “That’s not why I offer. Think about it this way, Eva. You work a full-time, demanding-ass job. Don’t you want help?”
“You work all the time.”
“So? We hire a nanny.”
“A nanny that works where?” I asked.
“Eva, you need to either hire a nanny or put the child in a center. I don’t want our newborn in a center. The germs alone—”
“Why are you such a germaphobe?” I asked.
“I had awful childhood asthma and hospitals terrify me.”
“Kids go to the doctor a lot,” I said.
“I am a grown man. I can handle it,” Davey protested. “I want this to work, Eva. I am willing to do what you need, but there need to be some basic assumptions.”
“Go on.”
“You need a place of your own, a car of your own, and we need to hire a nanny,” Davey said. “I don’t have to pay for the first two unless you want me to, but I think that is the point of child support, right?”
“Yes.”
“Given I don’t think you’re a particularly spendy sort, I want you to tell me what it costs, and I will cover it.”
“I don’t want to be a kept woman. I’ve worked my ass off—”
“Well, I’m the one who got you pregnant. I have means. I want our child raised in a nice, safe home and I want his mother to be well-taken-care-of even if we’re not together.”
“Oh my God, the savior complex on you!”
“It’s not that. I mean, maybe a little. I’m me. I’m going to provide for you because I can and it’s the right thing to do, but it’s also because happy mothers have happy babies and well-adjusted kids. We both want that, don’t we?”
The rant was never-ending.
“You can think I’m a classist prick, but money makes life easier. Has no one ever taken care of you before? This is not a gift. It is support for our child.”
Our food arrived. I sat, thoughts milling. Why was I so bothered by his desire to spend money? Mona spoiled me. I never told her not to. I lived in our nice house in a beautiful neighborhood. I ate at good restaurants. I wore the clothes she bought happily. So, why now was it different?
“It’s because you’re a man, I guess. I don’t… it always feels like a transaction. It gives me the ick. You’re a prince. I’m a peasant. The imbalance of power isn’t just about class, either. You are my boss, Davey.”
“I know, I know. But I don’t think about it like that.”
“That’s because you’re the king of the hill. You don’t fucking have to, David. I do. And when this news comes out, we both will.”
Davey
After breakfast, we milled through stalls at the farmer’s market, trying to relate, I couldn’t help but feel alone.
Eva had no place to live, no car, no childcare plans, and she wouldn’t compromise.
Last night, I gave her vulnerability, and she trusted me.
Now, she dug her heels in. As I was about to ask what it was she needed, she rubbed her temples and stopped.
An admission came that changed the tenor of our conversation.
“Look, I don’t want to agree to much right now. I’m frightened it’s a bad omen. And while you probably would see it ending prematurely as a blessing in disguise… I don’t.”
“I don’t feel that way. I’m invested,” I said. “It would be worse for you, I’m sure. But for me, it would hurt, too. You’re afraid to hear the worst?”
She nodded as tears welled. “Two weeks. Two more weeks to know if this can continue.”
“Is this when you got the news last time?” I asked.
Eva’s voice grew small, “Yes.”
Unexpectedly, she hugged me. I wrapped her in my arms. She cried—losing herself in public. I thought by planning, I was being a grownup and proving she could trust me. Instead, I pushed buttons. Every attempt threw salt in her wounds.
I rubbed her back. “I am sorry. I pushed.”
“You didn’t know,” Eva murmured.
“I know now. You can tell me anything about what happened if it helps.”
“All you should know was that at the scan—alone—I found out the pregnancy was unviable. There was no heartbeat. I scheduled surgery to end the pregnancy without my ex’s support. And when I told her, she said it was for the best. She told me she didn’t love me anymore.”
I pulled back. “Eva, baby, that is… cruel. No one deserves that. I will be there. If you want Ellie there, too, I understand it.”
“Ellie cannot make it. She has got to be back home for a teacher’s meeting. She told me last week.”
“I will be there if it kills me.”
“Thanks.”
I cupped her face. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re burdening me. We’re doing this together. I have no idea what you need from me most of the time, but don’t feel bad for asking. If I cannot do it, I will tell you, but have I told you no yet?”
“No.”
“Then trust me.”
Her intense eyes focused on mine, as if finally hearing my words—all of them. And for a moment, I felt the urge to kiss her. I was still so drawn to her—even when she infuriated me.
“Okay. Can we just agree things will need to work different in the future but put off the big things until we know more? And just survive the retreat?”
“Sure,” I agreed.
As if by reflex, I kissed the top of her head.
Eva pulled back, her eyes meeting mine. She took me in once more—inquisitive, unsure, probing—before pulling me into a kiss.
Unable to resist, I ran my hands through her soft, honey-blonde hair and soaked her up. It felt as good as it had the first time.
She upended the moment with trepidation. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“You can always impose,” I said.
She turned to rush away. “No. It’s complicated. I should… go.”
I trotted after, catching up. “At least let me get you back to your car—”
“I’m good.”
“Eva, talk to me. Don’t run!”
We rounded a corner. Eva speed walked.
She stopped before a blue pickup. “Here I am.”
“Eva, tell me that didn’t feel like anything,” I said.
“I… I just… I cannot do that.”
She hopped in the truck and slammed the door. I watched her drive off, confused. How did we go from an argument to a fabulous kiss to more arguing? Why did she always flee?