15. Valentina #3
“Howdy bestie,” Emma says cheerfully. From the background I can hear Seraphina cooing and the sounds of a baby sucking on something filling the receiver. Oh fuck me, this was a horrible idea.
I open my mouth to apologize and tell her I’ll call her later, but what comes out is not a word.
“Val.” Her voice changes completely and she sounds alarmed. “Valentina. What happened? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
“No,” I manage through tears, snot sliding down my face.
I wipe it away with my sleeve. “Not—the baby’s fine, I’m—” My voice breaks in the middle of me saying “fine.” “Emma, I’m so sorry to ask you of this, but I need you to come over.
Something happened and I—I can’t—” I press my hand over my mouth again but another sob breaks through.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—”
“Stop apologizing.” Emma says sharply. “Talk to me.” I hear movement in the background, the grumpy noises of a baby. “Tell me what happened,” she demands.
So I try. Between the crying I try to tell her. Claire at the door. Finn. Cillian walking in. Get out. Claire’s mask coming off and the first one, a boy, Finn was first, and the Plaza and the door closing again and me on the floor.
Emma curses so colorfully it almost makes me laugh. “Holy shit,” Emma breathes. “Okay. I’m coming right now. I’m putting Seraphina in the car. I’m coming.”
Guilt suddenly seizes me. Why am I so selfish? She’s going to drag her little baby over to me just because I’m having an emotional breakdown. “No, Em. You don’t have to. I’ll be fine—”
“Shut up,” Emma says firmly. “I’m already putting my shoes on. Stop talking and let me come.”
I stop talking.
I stay on the floor.
I don’t know how long I stay there for. Long enough that the crying does eventually run out because I’ve run out of tears. What’s left is that feeling like I’ve just been sent through the wringer. My eyes are puffy and my nose is stuffed. I sniffle then cough.
By the time I manage to get up, Emma’s two-tap knock comes at the door. I open it within seconds.
Emma stands there, red hair windswept but her green eyes alight with worry. She’s pushing a stroller and has a bag from the bakery on 67th loped around one of the handles. She takes one look at my face and her face crumples.
“Oh, Val,” she says sadly as she puts her arms around me. I lean into her and let myself be held. “I’ve got you,” she tells me.
Eventually, we make our way into the sitting room, Emma lifting Seraphina out.
Seraphina coos, dark blue eyes looking around curiously.
Emma keeps her arm around me as she steers me into a sofa and deposits the baby into my arms.
I immediately gather my niece close and breathe in her intoxicating baby scent, brushing a kiss on her round cheek.
Emma sits besides me and I can feel her eyes as I focus on the baby, using her sweetness to calm myself down. Emma says nothing because she knows me well enough to know that sometimes the fixing has to wait.
Eventually she says, carefully, “Do you think the boy is actually his?”
I look at where Finn sat and picture him. His brown hair. His warm brown eyes. There’s nothing about him that makes me think, yes, Cillian is your father.
Claire’s face when I said alleged. The tiny flicker. The recovery that was just slightly too fast.
Something has been sitting wrong in my gut since this afternoon, and I haven’t been able to name it. I still can’t name it.
“I don’t know,” I admit, turning Seraphina so her face is in my neck. The baby snuggles in close, tiny fingers clutching the neck of my sweater. “Something’s off. I can’t figure out what.”
Emma is quiet, biting her lip. “Be in that room when the results come back. Whatever happens, you need to be there.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Promise me,” Emma says urgently. “Do not let Cillian try to keep you from that room.”
“I promise,” I tell her. “I will be in that room.”
She nods. Seraphina starts to fuss, probably realizing I smell and sound nothing like her mother, and I reluctantly give the baby back. My arms feel empty.
“The paternity test,” I say. “That’s one thing.
” I look at my hands, my wedding and engagement rings glinting in the light.
I twist them, lifting them up and down my knuckle.
“But that’s not actually…” I stop, struggling to get my thoughts in order.
My throat tightens. “Even if it comes back negative and Finn isn’t his, he still lied to me for a month.
Every time I asked him what was wrong.” My voice cracks again and I close my eyes, trying to regain my bearings.
“He gaslit me, telling me it was nothing. That I was just tired and not thinking rationally.” I press my hand over my mouth for a second.
“That’s the part I can’t get past. That’s the thing that’s actually—”
I stop. Emma looks at me.
“Yeah,” she says sympathetically. “I know.”
I can’t get past how my whole life has blown up.
Outside, people walk around, completely unbothered. In here there is just Emma and Seraphina and the wreckage of my afternoon.
I sit there and I breathe, trying to figure out how to get through tonight.
Just tonight.
That’s all I have to do right now.