14. Brandon
CHAPTER 14
The pieces of this puzzle seems to fit together too perfectly, the chances of it all being mere coincidence are slim.
The thought of potentially discovering a child that I had missed out on raising filled me with overwhelming emotions. How could I possibly move forward if this little girl turned out to be mine? So many years lost, so much time wasted.
But that doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Whatever I’ve missed, I’ll make up for it by being there for her from now on. But first, I need to know the truth. I heard Anya loud and clear when she said Kira’s father was a guy she had a one night stand with and couldn’t reach afterwards.
While what we shared was a little more than just a one night stand, I’d say I fit the description perfectly.
My mom’s making pancakes when I enter the kitchen and go to the fridge to grab a can of soda. “Good morning.”
She twists her neck to me and smiles. “Morning. Everything okay?”
I uncap the soda and drink half of it in one swig. I belch as the fizzy drink hisses down my throat. "I'm okay." That's what I tell people, but the truth is, I haven't been okay for two years. But this is just a minor issue compared to everything else.
She takes out the last pancake from the pan and places it on a heap of other mouth-watering pancakes. Turning off the stove, she leans against the counter and folds her arms. “What is it, boy? Speak.”
I consider not telling her, but I need her opinion. My mother takes in surprises the easiest, and she gives the best advice. If there’s anyone I would confide in, it’s her.
“What would you do if I had a child?” I ask, rubbing my jaw. The skin is rough, as I haven’t shaved in a couple of days.
She scrunches her nose and her eyes narrow. “You have a child, Brandon. Did you forget Alessa exists?”
I slide my fingers through my hair. “That is not what I meant. What if I had another child?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s hard for me to understand you when you’re not saying anything sensible.”
I draw in a breath. There’s no easy way to tell her this, but I have to. She might be a little shocked, but she loves kids. She already loves Kira.
“I think Kira is mine.”
The silence that follows my announcement makes me feel uneasy. My mother doesn’t react, she just freezes and blinks at me.
“Mom?”
She doesn’t answer. She just keeps gaping at me.
“Mom, did you even hear me?”
“I wouldn’t be this stunned if I hadn’t heard you.” She heaves a sigh. “I’ve always found it surprising that she looks so much like you and Spencer when you were babies. One thing I don’t understand, though: how is she yours if it’s Spencer whom Anya dated?”
“Well…” I fill my mother in on the details of how I met Anya before my deployment. When I finish, she just sighs and goes silent again.
“What are you going to do if she’s yours?” she finally asks.
I take another long gulp of my soda. I haven’t thought through all the details yet, but I know that I’ll want to be a part of Kira’s life if Anya lets me.
Oh, fuck. I’ll also need to sort things out with Anya. I don’t know where our relationship is headed. I do know that I want to pick up from where we stopped, but I have to move at her pace. And I’ll have to resolve my own issues.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I’ll be Kira’s father if she’s mine.”
“I’m not judging you, Brandon. But right now, you’re barely even a father to Alessa. You’ve been off since you came back home, son.”
Does my mother know? Of course she does. She's always been observant and perceptive, but she only speaks up when she deems it necessary.
I open my mouth to argue, but she lifts a hand to stop me.
“I’m your mother. Do you think I don’t know about those horrible nightmares you have?” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not saying you’re a bad father, but Alessa is growing and she doesn’t have a mother. You can’t give her all the love she needs if you don’t work on your issues. And if Kira is yours too, then you’ll have to try twice as hard.”
I bow my head, refusing to look at my mother. If she knows, then she must’ve felt how much pain I’ve been in all along.
“There’s a lot we need to discuss, but I think you should talk to Anya and find out the truth first.” She grabs a plate, fills it with pancakes, and then tops it with some berries and honey. “Here, breakfast sweetheart.”
After finishing breakfast, I rush over to Anya's house. It's Sunday morning, so she should be home unless she has other plans, which I highly doubt. As I climb the steps of her front porch and lift my hand to knock, a sudden weightiness envelopes me. My chest tightens as anxiety floods through me. I can't gather the courage to tap on the door.
My head hangs in my hand as I suck in deep breaths. I have to remain calm, and I need to find out if Kira is really mine. I already know she is, in the back of my mind, but I still need confirmation from Anya.
I inhale one last time, filling my lungs with air. Then I hold my breath and knock. I hear something fall to the ground inside, then Kira’s giggle and footsteps. The door creaks open, and a beautiful pair of hazel eyes stares back at me.
Anya is wearing a simple blue oversized shirt with no bra. I quickly raise my gaze back to her face. Now is not the time for me to yearn for her body. I notice the dark circles under her eyes, and the messy bun her hair is held up in. She looks like she barely had any sleep last night.
“Brandon?” She shuts the door quietly and joins me on the front porch. “Why are you here so early?”
“We need to talk…” I hesitate.
She appears exhausted. “Are you alright?” I ask.
She shakes her head, stifling a yawn with her hand. “I'm not doing well. I made a mistake putting Kira to bed so early last night. She wanted to stay up and play.”
I feel a weight pull at my chest. I try hard not to show it. “Can we talk?”
She nods. “Sure. Come inside.”
Kira’s face lights up as soon as she sees me. She spreads her arms wide, and I lift her into the air with a smile. Her giggles are infectious, and I could hold her like this forever without feeling tired. As if by magic, the headache that was bothering me since morning has disappeared.
“Is it okay to talk in front of Kira?” I turn to Anya.
“She’s just a baby; she won’t understand much. Just try not to use any swear words or anything inappropriate.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Something on the floor catches Kira’s attention. She starts to struggle to get to it, and I put her down.
“What I need to talk to you about…is Kira.” I don’t know if that’s the right way to begin a conversation like this one, but I’m too anxious to think of a better way.
Anya' body visibly tenses as I prepare to reveal what I have discovered. "Go on," she urges me.
I take a deep breath, knowing that my next words will change everything. "Am I Kira's father?"
She swallows hard before responding, "How did you find out?"
Damn it. That confirms it, I am definitely Kira's biological father. My mind races with a mixture of emotions - sadness for not being there for my daughter, relief that I finally know the truth, gratitude towards Anya for raising her, guilt for not being in her life, and anger at myself for not realizing it sooner. "Just look at her, Anya. She looks just like me, and my calculations confirm it," I say with a heavy heart.
As I stood in front of Anya, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the inevitable. I suspected this would happen, but it doesn’t make the blow any easier to bear. “How could you keep it from me?”
She scoffs. “I didn’t plan to keep it from you, Brandon.” Her eyes water, and her voice croaks. “You disappeared after that night, and there was no way to reach you.”
I know she wouldn’t have kept it from me for the fun of it, and I know I’m to be blamed for everything. But the cowardly, weak and selfish part of me wants to blame something—someone for all of it. “You could’ve told me when we met again.”
“I should have, but it’s not that easy. When I met you, I was angry and hurt.” She takes a moment to calm herself and wipes the tears spilling down her face. “As if that wasn’t enough, you’re my ex-boyfriend’s older brother. Do you think I enjoyed doing all of this on my own?”
My fists clench as raw emotions come crashing down on me. I’m not mad at Anya. I understand her, I understand how hard all of this must’ve been on her. I know because I went through so much after Alessa’s mother abandoned me with her. I had my parents, but it was hard.
Anya had no one, which means it must’ve been a lot harder on her. I’m mad at myself, and I’m furious at how things could’ve been different if I hadn’t gone on that deployment.
I only ended up hurting Anya, and missing months of my daughter’s life. I hate myself for it. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. My voice is as low as a whisper, but that is the loudest I can sound right now. “I’m so sorry for everything, Anya. I would change everything if I could. I would’ve been here for both of you, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”
Anya's piercing hazel eyes meet mine. Her hand rests gently on my chest, offering comfort and understanding. "It wasn't your fault, Brandon," she reassures me. "It wasn't anyone's fault. Circumstances unfolded that were beyond our control."
The logical part of my head knows that she’s right. I shouldn’t have left her that morning, but I had my fair reasons. Still, I can’t shake off the guilt that all of this would have been avoided if only I’d done something different.
From the other room, I hear Kira crying for attention. Anya rushes to her side and demands that I fetch some milk from the fridge. As she tends to Kira and puts her to bed, I stand by the door and observe quietly.
Anya is a natural mom. The warmth and love in her eyes when she looks at Kira is divine. The tenderness in the way she pats Kira’s back and lays her down on her crib pulls my heartstrings.
“What?” Anya’s voice draws me back to the present.
I raise my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been looking at me without blinking for minutes.” Her gaze bounces from one of my eyes to the other. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just that watching you…being a mother suits you, Anya.” What Kira has is the one thing that Alessa never had. I can tell just by looking at Anya that she would burn the world down for our daughter. I’m grateful for that.
When Anya finishes tidying the small pink vanity where she sat to feed Kira, she heads for the kitchen and I follow her. She tosses the bottle in the sink and turns around.
Her shoulders lift. “Thanks. What now?”
“Anya…” I walk toward her, standing so close that her sweet flowery scent filters into my senses. I try to remind myself that this is a serious moment and I shouldn’t think of anything else, but my attraction to her has just quadrupled.
This woman in front of me carried my child and gave birth to her all on her own. She kept Kira alive while still working to take care of them. She’s way stronger than I imagined.
I take Anya’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry for everything, and thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Brandon. She’s my daughter too.”
I squeeze her hand gently. “I know. Still, you did it all on your own. If it’s okay, I’d like to help out from now on. I want to be here for both of you. I want to be a part of Kira’s life, and I don’t want you to do this on your own anymore.”
Her eyes sparkle with tears. “You have no idea how much it means to me hearing you say that. I was afraid you wouldn’t want her.”
I wipe her tears. “Why wouldn’t I? We made her together. She’s perfect in every way.”
“Are you trying to brag about how she got her good looks from you?”
A smile plays on my lips. “She would still be perfect either way.”
I sense her nodding in agreement, but then she abruptly pulls away from me. "Spencer won't be happy about this," she says with a worried look on her face.
I cup her face in my hands and gently stroke her cheeks with my thumbs. "It doesn't matter what he thinks right now. My priority is making things right with you."
I know I'll have to tell my family eventually. It might take some time for Spencer to come around, but I'm prepared to handle it."
Just as I am about to reassure Anya of any concerns she may have, a wave of overwhelming guilt washes over me once again. My breathing becomes labored and sweat starts to form on my chest and forehead. Anya seems to notice my struggle and reaches out to hold my hand, asking me with a worried expression if I am okay. I bite my lip and quickly excuse myself before I risk breaking down in front of her. I remind myself that I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow and need to focus on recovering for the sake of my children and Anya.