Chapter 2
TWO
Brooklyn
Claudia
The descent feels endless. The plane rattles through a patch of turbulence that makes my stomach drop, and Savannah lets out a tiny whimper against my chest, but doesn’t stop nursing, which I take comfort in after doing the research on flying with an infant.
Feeding during take-off and landing is a lot like us chewing gum, yawning, and popping our ears, or at least the closest thing to it an infant can do.
I hush her quietly, my lips pressed to the soft fuzz of her hair.
The captain’s voice crackles overhead, announcing our approach to JFK. My heart pounds harder than it should. I tell myself it’s just the landing, but we both know better.
When the wheels finally slam the runway, I breathe out slowly, relief and dread tangled together.
Maui feels a thousand miles behind me—and it is—, but it feels even further, like another life.
There, it was just me, my daughter, and peace.
Here, it’s noise, gray skies, and the man who decided I was a gold digger before I could even finish a sentence.
His turning away was exactly what I had wanted, a gift I gladly accepted, and now…
now I have to do what I can to protect Savannah.
There’s no point in overthinking it, trying to make a plan; all I can do is hope that when he sees her, I can convince him that this is what’s best for her.
By the time we reach baggage claim, my arms ache, and my nerves are frayed. I sway Savannah gently while we wait for the carousel to bring our suitcases into view.
“Do you want me to hold her while you grab your bag?” Nalani asks, looking like she could use the calm Savannah brings, and since I also need two or more hands, I hand her over.
While waiting for my luggage, I watch as Nalani smiles at my daughter and talks to her as they pace back and forth, never leaving my peripheral vision.
I can tell she’s staying within eyesight to ease a worry she sees that I thought I was masking.
I make a mental note to mask up so that none of my fears can be seen when I meet with Kyle tomorrow.
I see my bags, Savannah’s stroller, and car seat, and quickly grab them.
As I head toward them, I see a very large man, who looks familiar, talking to her as she juggles her phone while holding Savannah against her.
As I approach, he and another large man walk away, and it hits me, they’re Bears players.
“Was that the NHL player they call …” I lower my voice, “The Cock?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Word of advice?” I say, taking Savannah and setting her in the stroller. “Stay away from the athletic ones; they’ll cause you nothing but heartache.”
“Why do I feel like you’re speaking from experience?” she asks, grabbing the handle of the luggage cart.
I feel my eyes burn, “My ex is a hockey player.” Ex is an exaggeration, but he is in fact an ex.
“Savannah’s father?” She asks.
“I was here for an internship. We only dated, or hooked up, or whatever, for a couple of months. I found out I was pregnant when I went back to start my last semester. I did the responsible thing and told him. He called me a gold digger.”
“Are you kidding me?” She asks, anger in her tone.
“Honestly, it was the biggest relief of my life. I would graduate with my doctorate in psychology a few weeks before she was born, and then it would be her and I. Now he’s demanding to meet her, which is fine, but I’m so afraid he will try to get shared custody.
I have a job lined up in Texas; he plays in LA. ”
“For the Lancers?” She asks.
“Yeah. He was traded from the Bears.” I shake my head. “He was so angry they kept Deacon and not him. Truth? Deacon is a legend.” I lift a shoulder. “Kyle’s flying in tomorrow, a day before their game, to meet Savannah.” I force a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m laying this all on you.”
“You going to the game?” She asks.
“Not sure it’s the best place for a baby. Why? Do you need a wing woman and a half to live out a puck bunny fantasy? If so, let me be your cautionary tale.”
She shrugs. “Koa Olu Kelekolio—aka, The Cock—never disappointed me. I disappointed him.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“I’ll tell you all about it on our way to your hotel.”
“Are you sure it’s not out of your way?” I ask again.
“Yep, she thinks I’m crazy.” Nalani laughs to herself as she pulls her phone from her pocket, manages to scroll a bit while pushing the luggage cart, and hands it to me. “I screwed up.”
I scroll through and see picture after picture of her and Koa and then I see my letters. “Wait—you were K.E.T?”
“Once K.E.T, always K.E.T.” I hold up both hands and make our sisterhood sign.
“We’re sisters!”
The city feels too loud and too gray after having Savannah and our time in Maui.
A distraction from the ease I expected as we moved to Houston and started our life, I not only imagined but promised to her.
Not that Houston is a small town, but New York is just so big, and yes, I know what the chaotic feelings I am beating back with a damn stick are all because of Kyle and whatever confrontation will be had.
By the time the cab pulls up in front of the hotel, my nerves are frayed, but Savannah is peacefully sleeping in her car seat, her tiny head tilted to the side, soft breaths steady in the dark.
When the vehicle pulls in front of the hotel and stops, I step out first, squaring my shoulders against the wind, and look up at the building Kyle booked for us.
Nalani stretches beside me, rubbing her eyes as she slides out. “Looks nice.”
“You don’t have to come in. Go see your new place.”
“I will when I know you two are all set.” She quirks a brow as if to say, try me.
I adore her.
Inside, the lobby is warm and elegant, full of hushed conversation and the faint scent of citrus polish. The kind of place that makes you feel like you should whisper. I wheel the stroller to the check-in counter while Nalani lingers near the seating area, keeping an eye on Savannah.
The man behind the desk greets me with a professional smile. “Welcome to the Calloway. Checking in?”
“Yes,” I say, smoothing my hair back. “Reservation should be under Dingy.”
He types for a long moment, the faint click of keys, a questioning look at the screen, and then more clicking. Then his expression changes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t see any reservation under that name. Are you sure this is the right location?”
I tense. “Yes. Kyle Dingy. He said he booked it two days ago.”
He shakes his head politely. “I’m not showing anything. And unfortunately, we’re fully booked this evening.”
I force a calm smile. “Could you check under Holloway?”
Another stretch of typing. Another slow shake of his head. “Nothing under that name either.”
Behind me, Nalani has come closer. “Everything okay?”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Apparently, there’s no reservation.”
The clerk looks genuinely apologetic. “We’ve had a few walk-ins tonight due to flight cancellations. I can recommend a few nearby hotels, but most are at capacity.”
“Of course,” I say, though my voice sounds thinner than I intend. “Thank you anyway.”
I turn the stroller away from the counter, pretending to check on Savannah. Her lips are pursed in sleep, oblivious to the mess.
“Here you are,” he says.
I turn and take the paper. “Thank you.”
By the time we reach the doors, the embarrassment hits full force — that sick, familiar burn that comes with realizing you trusted someone who you shouldn’t have.
Outside, the air is cold. I grip the stroller’s handle tighter. “I am so sorry about this,” I say for the fourth time since we left the desk. “I swear he said he booked it.”
“This is not your fault at all. It’s his.” Nalani’s tone is firm. She takes my shaking hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’d be perfectly within your rights to block his ass.”
“I could go back to the airport and try to change my flight,” I say, half to myself. “Maybe go straight to Texas. Avoid the whole disaster.”
“You could,” she says easily. “But now I’m stoked that my first night in my new place will be spent with a sister.”
I look over at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “God, I loved undergrad.” I sigh, glancing down at Savannah’s car seat where she still sleeps, perfectly untouched by the chaos. “But I love you even more.”
Nalani smiles softly, settling back into the car once we climb in. “I just met her, and I love her more than undergrad.”
Her words make me laugh despite myself. It comes out tired and genuine.
She leans her head back, eyes drifting toward the window. The city lights wash over her face in flashes of white and amber.
“You’re quiet,” I say after a moment.
“I am tired,” she admits. “You?”
“Exhausted.”
The cab slows in front of an old brownstone, and Nalani leans forward to look through the window. “This is it,” she says, sounding uncertain.
I follow her gaze. The building looks like it’s been standing here since the turn of the century.
The bricks are dark and weathered, and a single light flickers above the door.
The steps are cracked, and the railing lists slightly to the side.
I can tell from Nalani’s expression that this isn’t what she expected.
She turns to the driver. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
He taps his GPS. “213 Waverly Place, right here. Heart of Greenwich Village.”
Nalani doesn’t answer. She just exhales and reaches for her purse. I open my door and step into the cool air. It smells like wet leaves, old pavement, and city smoke. Savannah stirs in her seat.
“Trash day’s tomorrow,” the driver says as he pulls our bags from the trunk. His tone suggests he’s said that before.
Nalani gives him a polite smile. “Good to know.”
I take the larger suitcase from him before she can. “You’ve got a baby carrier, I’ve got this.”
She starts to protest. “You just had the longest day—”
“Exactly why you’re not carrying anything,” I say, trying to sound lighter than I feel.