Chapter 4
FOUR
Walks
Claudia
It was so interesting to find out that Sofie and Nalani met in college, and both were also KET.
We had brunch, brought Paul home lunch, and I looked for a hotel.
Then they insisted that they go to the park with me, and pretend to have a picnic — far enough away not to be seen, but close enough that if I needed them.
How could I say no to that? They are truly amazing.
They also know that I keep in contact with, what I assume they just suppose, is family, Lydia, and Maya. They’ve taken a million pictures of Savannah and I and send them to me so I could text them. Sofie is dead set on me having good memories here on Savanah’s first trip to NYC.
I knew they were keeping me busy, and yes, I appreciate it.
He’s already waiting by the fountain, phone in hand, sunglasses on, the picture of practiced nonchalance. Even from a distance, he looks like someone who’s used to people noticing him — standing a little too straight, smiling a little too easily.
The closer I get, the more my stomach knots.
“Claudia,” he says, lowering his glasses just enough to look me over. “You came.”
“You told me to,” I answer evenly.
He smirks. “Still literal. You always were.”
“I’m consistent,” I correct.
“Consistent,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
I don’t rise to the bait. I just adjust Savannah’s stroller canopy to block the wind.
He crouches to peek inside. “So, this is her.”
“This is Savannah.”
He studies her for a moment — really looks. “She’s got my hair and nose.”
“She has her own,” I say softly.
He stands again, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “You look good.”
I know he’s being a dick, I’m carrying ten pounds I didn’t before, and I am not toned at all. But the truth is, I like this me better. “Motherhood will do that to you.”
He chuckles. “You make it sound like some kind of spa treatment.”
“No. It’s work.”
He smiles like I’ve confirmed something for him. “You always liked a challenge.”
“I liked peace,” I say. “There’s a huge difference.”
“Peace looks good on you,” he says, then gestures toward the path winding around the park. “Mind if I take her for a walk? Just around the fountain. Get to know her a little?”
My instinct screams no, but I study him carefully. His tone isn’t soft — it’s calculated. He wants control, a small victory.
“She doesn’t know you,” I say quietly.
He straightens. “She’s a baby, Claudia. She’ll be fine.”
“She’s my baby,” I remind him.
He lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly impatient. “Look, I’m trying here, okay? I flew you two here. I’m standing here in a park full of strangers because I’m doing what is right — showing up. You could meet me halfway.”
His words slide in like a knife disguised as reason. I hate that he still knows how to make something sound like my fault.
I look down at Savannah. She’s watching him, curious, her little mouth forming an “O” as she babbles softly.
“Five minutes,” I say. “Stay where I can see you.”
He grins like he’s won something. “Sure. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
He takes the stroller handles and starts walking — slow at first, then drifting farther than I’d like. I follow from a distance, pretending to check my phone, pretending not to hover. Yet also not giving a damn if he feels I am.
He bends toward Savannah, saying something I can’t hear, and for a fleeting second I let myself hope he’s saying hello and goodbye. That maybe, just maybe, he needs that.
But then I see it — the flash of his phone. He’s taking pictures.
My chest tightens as I walk closer. “Kyle.”
He glances up, all fake innocence. “Relax. I just wanted one for me.”
“You could’ve asked,” I say, reaching for the stroller handle.
He pulls it back slightly. “You still don’t trust me.”
“You haven’t given me a reason to.”
He smirks. “You really think I’d hurt my own kid?”
“No,” I say, “but I think you’d use her.”
The smirk fades. “Wow. That’s what you think of me?”
“I think you love control and your image more than people.”
He exhales sharply and lets go of the stroller. “You’ve changed.”
“I had to.”
He looks down at Savannah one last time. “She’s beautiful. Guess you did something right.”
I don’t flinch. “I did everything right.”
For a moment, he just stands there — silent, searching. Then he nods once and starts to walk away.
Relief floods me, shaky and false. It’s over. I made it through this.
But before I can exhale, a man in a navy suit steps into my path, holding an envelope. He’s polite, efficient — detached. “Claudia Holloway?”
“Yes,” I answer, already knowing I won’t like what comes next.
He hands me the thick envelope. “You’ve been served.”
The words hit like ice water.
“What is this?”
“Custody petition.” His voice doesn’t waver. “Filed this morning.”
I glance past him. Kyle’s already far enough away that I can’t throw them at him and hit him in that enormous head of his. He doesn’t look back, shoulders squared like he just finished a game and thinks he’s won.
He didn’t even have the courage to face me while doing it.
I hold the envelope against my chest, the weight of it heavier than it should be. Savannah lets out a soft coo from her stroller, a tiny sound that steadies me. I crouch beside her, brush my thumb over her cheek, and whisper, “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
People pass us — couples, students, tourists — and no one has any idea that my life just split cleanly in two.
By the time I make it back to where Nalani and Sofie insisted on being, Sofie’s the first to spot me. “Well? How’d it go?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat feels tight. I just push the stroller closer and hand Nalani the envelope. “I can’t talk right now. I just,” I fight back tears. “I have to pee and feed —”
“Say no more,” Sofie says. “Let’s roll.”
The three of us pack up in silence. Not one question. Not one word. Just movement—steady, quiet, necessary.
Back at Nalani’s, I barely register the climb up the stairs or the sound of Sofie cursing at the “piece-of-crap, out-of-order elevator.” I go straight to the bathroom, shut the door, and lean against it.
The second I hear the latch click, the tears come. Not loud. Not messy. Just the kind that burn—slow, steady, relentless. I turn on the faucet, more for cover than need, and breathe through the ache. Savannah’s soft coos echo in my mind. I focus on that until the tears fade into quiet resolve.
Through the door, their voices drift in—muffled but clear enough.
“He can’t do that, can he?” Sofie asks, her tone sharp, indignant.
Nalani answers, calm but uncertain. “I’m not a lawyer, but it doesn’t seem like he could. She has a job, too.”
“I can’t believe he insisted on taking Savannah for a walk around the park alone,” Sofie says, the disbelief thick in her voice. “He just met her. How was she so calm?”
I rinse my face, dry it with a hand towel, and open the door.
They both look up. Sofie’s pacing. Nalani’s sitting on the couch, her expression gentle, careful.
“I have Air Tags in the stroller and the diaper bag,” I tell them, my voice hoarse. “In case they got lost at the airport. He had both.”
Nalani exhales, her lips parting slightly as understanding dawns. She moves over and pats the spot beside her.
I sit down, run a hand through my hair, and finally let out the truth. “I’m so fucking—”
“Don’t you dare say sorry,” Sofie interrupts.
“Pissed,” I finish. “Angry. I should’ve never told him. Why has he suddenly decided he wants to be part of her life?”
“Maybe he grew a conscience?” Sofie offers, though her tone makes it clear she doubts it.
I lean back and stare at the ceiling. “I loved his confidence until I realized it was arrogance. I don’t want Savannah to grow up thinking she’s less important than his game, or get used to him being around and then disappearing.
We agreed on that. I promised when she asked, I’d tell her I used a donor. ”
Sofie, ever the blunt one, asks, “How does your family feel?”
I close my eyes for a moment. “I don’t know. I never met my father. And my mother…” I shrug, the motion small, practiced. “She liked to party more than she liked being a mother. She OD’d when I was five.”
“Oh my God, Claudia,” Sofie breathes out, her voice breaking with sympathy.
“I don’t remember much of her,” I admit quietly, “but she’s the reason I’ll always choose my child first.”
Nalani studies me for a long moment. “Are you an only child?”
“I am.”
Sofie nudges me gently with her foot, her voice softening. “But you’ve got kick-ass sisters now.”
That makes me smile. Small, tired, but real. “Yeah,” I say, looking between them. “I sure do.”
Savannah wakes with a small fuss, the kind that’s half hunger, half stretching her little body ready to enter the world again.
“I’m going to go feed her if that’s okay.”
“Do it right here, we’re all women.” Nalani shrugs. “Totally normal.”
She’s not wrong. I settle onto the couch, lift my shirt, and help her find her latch. Her soft sucking sounds fill the quiet space, that peaceful rhythm that always pulls me back from the edge.
Nalani moves around the small apartment, tidying absentmindedly, her presence calm and grounding.
“You know,” she says softly, leaning against the counter, “you’re one of those women who doesn’t need a bit of makeup.
You don’t even look like you tried today, but somehow you’re glowing. That’s not fair.”
I laugh quietly, my hand rubbing slow circles over Savannah’s back. “Trust me, I tried this morning. I just lost to exhaustion.”
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s taking mental notes. “You carry yourself differently, though. Confident. Like even when you’re apologizing, which is annoying by the way, you know exactly who you are.”
I shake my head. “I think that’s called survival.”
She nods knowingly. “Maybe. But it looks a lot like strength from here.”