Chapter 7 Baby Daddy
Seven. Baby daddy
Tamara
It’s been four days and I’m still reeling from my phone call with Patrick.
We’ve been texting. Technically, he’s been texting.
A lot. He doesn’t care about time differences and sends me pictures of parenting books he’s ordered so we can read them together.
He’s on a mission to ensure we’re ready for this baby.
It’s cute, but very disarming. I don’t know what I expected when I told him, but this wasn’t it.
Even if he seemed to panic when the words first came out, he was calm when he said we’d figure it out together.
Some might say it’s unfair to compare the two men I’ve loved, but after seeing Patrick’s support, I wish Kabir had been there for me more after the miscarriage.
He brushed the whole thing off like it was my problem, since it was obviously my fault I’d lost the baby neither of us knew about.
Even then, I didn’t see the mess of our relationship.
He was the first person outside of my family and closest friends who seemed to like me.
Love me, even. And I was craving companionship when he came into my life.
I know now moving in together was a part of what ruined our relationship.
Alone time was important to me while Kabir wanted to socialise constantly.
I wouldn’t let him host parties in the flat and he’d stay out all night with his friends.
The smallest things became big issues and when I lost the baby, he snapped.
At first I thought he was mad because he wanted the baby and blamed me for the loss.
Later I realised he was mad I’d interrupted his work meeting for something out of his control.
Is it weird I don’t miss or think about him more?
You know who I am thinking about? Patrick.
The video call was unnecessary, but a good reminder of how fucking beautiful he is.
His beard was well groomed and his hair was untied, but looked purposefully messy.
And those eyes. Fuck me, those eyes. Even when we were teenagers and falling in love for the first time, his eyes always got me to do anything.
A light brown with golden flecks, they’re unusual for Malayali men, but of course Patrick would be blessed with all the good things in life.
Including great bone structure, perfect eyebrows and broad shoulders my legs remember hanging off.
Good grief, calm yourself.
I shake my head, getting rid of the visuals from our one night together. That’s what got me into this situation. As much as I want to have this baby, I don’t need to think about the man any more than necessary. Almost like he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone buzzes.
Patrick
I’ve been looking up baby stuff and apparently at this stage, it’s a bean. Can we call them Beanie?
Do you have a little baby bump?
When’s your next appointment? Can it wait until I get home?
Maybe you should come to Paris and do an ultrasound here to find out if it’s a boy or a girl. Not that it matters to me either way, but shouldn’t we know?
Actually, I don’t want to know. I’d like to be surprised.
I stare at our chat until the three dots disappear and then flip my phone over.
We’re handling this unexpected development better than I thought we would.
Or maybe it’s easy to navigate this with all the distance between us.
His brief panic attack makes me think he’s going to need more time.
I sprung this on him and it’s a huge deal.
For one, we’re not together. Two, our lives are going in totally different directions.
And three, we’ve got a lot of history I’m in no mood to sort through.
We should be worrying, stressing about things and questioning whether this is a good idea.
Right? At least he hasn’t said it’s a mistake yet.
After I told Vera and Varun, I had to break the news to the rest of the family.
Tessammai and Jakesappapen were so happy, they made me believe I’d done the right thing.
They celebrated, then calmed down and asked if I was sure it was what I wanted.
I promised them I was making the decision to keep the baby with every possibility laid out before me.
The more terrifying part is knowing I’m pregnant with Patrick’s giant baby.
“Miss Chandy, your phone’s been ringing continuously,” my assistant, Pallavi, tells me as I step off the elevator. I frown and take the device from her, my heart jolting at the number of missed calls from Patrick.
“Can you please let Pavan know I’ll be a little late for our meeting?”
She nods and scurries away as I close the door to my office.
It’s early in Paris, so whatever this is, can’t be good.
I return the FaceTime call while untying my hair from the tight bun I pulled it up in earlier.
The call connects and I only see darkness at first, then I hear his heavy breathing.
I stare at my screen until he’s standing somewhere with more light.
This is not the Patrick I know. His eyes are unfocused, there’s a sheen of sweat covering his face and he’s tugging at his hair as he breathes loudly through his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m terrified,” he whispers. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
“You were born to play hockey, Patrick. You worked your ass off for this.”
“The baby, Lotus.”
My stomach bottoms out and I nod. I knew it was too good to be true; he hadn’t processed everything. He was clouded by his lust for me, or whatever.
“I want us to do this, okay? But what if…what if I’m so fucking bad at it.”
“Patrick…”
“You deserve someone amazing to be the father to that baby, someone who can keep his shit together and be there for you. Not…me.”
I frown at his words, the way he’s refusing to meet my eyes. He wants to do this, but he doesn’t think he deserves me or this baby? I sit down and prop the phone against my laptop and lean in so he can see me clearly.
“Trick, I want you to listen to me. Hey, look at me.” His eyes swing to mine and there’s something more than fear and panic I can’t identify.
“You are not obligated to do this with me, okay? If this scares you, I understand. I didn’t tell you about the baby so you’d take responsibility for them.
Or us. I told you so it wouldn’t be a surprise down the line.
We’re going to be in each other’s lives because of Vera and Elias. ”
I cringe at how ridiculous I sound and Patrick nods, oblivious to my own turmoil.
“What if I’m not a good father? I’ve been googling and thinking about this for hours and I’m not sure you made the right choice with me.”
I want to ask him who he thinks would be a better choice?
And better yet, why does he think I had a choice with him?
The truth is, if I was to get accidentally knocked up and have a kid with someone, I’d pick Patrick Joseph.
We don’t know the adult versions of each other and it’s going to take us some time to navigate, but I remember the boy I once loved.
He cared about people he barely knew and was so gentle with me.
I know he’s an incredibly gifted athlete and his generosity has extended to helping underprivileged kids.
He would put his family first every single day and lay down his life for them in a heartbeat.
What he doesn’t know is even though I was ready to kill him at the beach house, when I saw him, my heart practically leaped. She was ready to jump back into his arms, like we hadn’t been apart for twenty years or that he ripped her to shreds.
“You’re my only choice, Trick.”
He blinks once, twice and gapes at me.
“I know this is scary and trust me, I’m feeling all those feelings too.
I don’t even need to meet your father to know you’ll turn out really great too.
You’re still the generous, kind, big hearted boy from camp.
You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re a good person.
You’re the best person and our kid is so lucky to have you as their father. ”
Patrick swallows and bobs his head in a gentle nod. He exhales loudly and dips his gaze, before his deep voice echoes through my soul. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up in a smile and he notices. His face transforms as he returns it. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. I clear my throat and blink back tears that have been hovering at the edges this whole call.
“Win me that medal.”
“Every win has been for you,” he rumbles and I bite my lip hard. “Thank you, Tamara. For calling me back, for helping me through this.”
“Can’t have my baby daddy mess up on the field can I?”
A low growl reaches me and my core clenches. “Say it again, Lotus.”
“Goodbye, Patrick. Good luck today.”
“Bye, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
Before he can call me any more nicknames and terms of endearment to make my defences crumble and my body react, I hang up.
I lean back in my chair, hands pressed to my face.
Damn this man and the whiplash he’s putting me through.
I allow myself a few minutes to catch my breath, then gather my things for my next meeting.
We’re in the second quarter and the score is 0-0, but of course someone on the Indian team fouls and Spain gets a free hit.
I’m sure if I ask Patrick, he’ll sit me down with a drawing and explain it in excruciating detail.
My mouth twitches into a smile and I catch myself, pressing my lips together to keep it at bay.
Everyone groans when Spain makes the goal and I sigh.
Since the whole Thomas clan and Elias know about the pregnancy, nobody’s asked why I’m so quiet.
But I still see them sneaking glances at me.
All assurances that I’m fine have been accepted with disbelieving nods, so I stopped saying anything.
Instead of the multiple glasses of wine I usually consume, I’ve got a large mug of tea that’s helping me stay awake and keeps the nausea at bay.
“Tamara, are you okay?” Tessammai asks as she settles onto the sofa beside me.
I lean into her and she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Been a long week and I’m really tired.”
“You work too hard,” she says for the millionth time. All of us—her kids, as she calls us—work too much and too hard.
“You sound like Velliamma,” I tease and she swats me playfully.
“One day you’ll sound like me, and I’ll remind you of this.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek, leaning away as she gets up to return to her husband.
I glance at them and smile, loving how open they are with their affection.
On the other side, Vera and Elias hold hands as they stare at the TV screen intently.
I’m so glad she found her person, because if there’s anyone in this world who deserves all the good things, it’s my cousin.
With my hand on my stomach, I turn to the TV in time to see Patrick score a goal.
The living room erupts, but I stay seated.
My lips, however, have finally given up the fight and curve upwards.
We’re tied with Spain and they have the opportunity to win it all.
In the third quarter, the captain scores a goal, giving the team the boost they need.
Thanks to the second goal, the tension is high and I’m leaning forward as I watch the defenders block every attempt and shot, moving around the Spaniards skilfully.
No matter how many times I’ve watched the matches, it’s mind-boggling to see grown ass men moving so fluidly across the turf.
When the final whistle blows, signalling the end of the game and India’s big victory, I get to my feet as everyone hugs each other.
My tummy twists and I know it’s my anxiety, but I’d like to think my baby is happy for their dad too.
The team is on the pitch and it’s a blur of white and blue as they all celebrate.
Me
I’m making space in my flat for the medal. Congratulations, Patrick.