30. Carrie
THIRTY
CARRIE
Since I was heading back to the city with the rest of the support staff, I flew commercial, jammed in between two passengers near the back of the plane. Back to reality. The trip was quick and uneventful, but I was still exhausted by the time I got off the train and considered the half-mile walk back to my house. I could definitely make the walk with my small duffel on a good day, but tonight wasn’t good. The cab ride was extortionate for how short it was, but I paid the fare without complaint.
And when I opened the door to our condo and heard my daughter’s elephant steps pounding down the stairs, a bit of weight lifted from my shoulders.
“Mom!” she cried, barreling toward me. She crashed into my legs and wrapped her arms around my waist. “You’re back!”
“I’m back,” I echoed, stroking her hair .
“Hailey did my words tonight and I spelled ‘dispute’ right! That’s a third-grade word!”
“Good work,” I said, grinning as pride swelled in my chest. “Are you excited for Friday?”
“I can’t wait!” she said, hopping like a bunny in her glee. She wore her favorite pajamas—white flannel with little bumble bees buzzing all over the fabric—and fuzzy black socks.
I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight, feeling like I’d just stepped back into real life after a trip to another planet. It was a bittersweet feeling. “Let me put my bag upstairs and wash up, and then we can read a book together. Have you brushed your teeth?”
“Yes,” Evie said. “Can I have three books?”
My lips twitched at the familiar negotiation. More books meant she could eke out a slightly later bedtime—but I was feeling slightly wounded and indulgent, so nodded. “Sure. Go choose your books and I’ll meet you in bed.”
Evie took off up the stairs, and I turned to look at my cousin, who was leaning against the wall. She spread her arms and I hugged her.
“You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” she noted.
I huffed. “Something like that.”
“You want to talk about it? Seth got a case of fancy wine as a thank-you gift from a client. We could crack it open and catch up.”
“That sounds good,” I said, squeezing her again. “But I don’t want to drink all the fancy wine before you get to have any.” I glanced at her bump, which seemed to have grown in the few days I was gone .
Hailey shrugged, smiling. “There’s plenty of wine to be had in the future. But you look like you need some now.”
Laughing, I relented. “Fine. But I owe Evie three books, and I desperately need a shower.”
“I’ll have your glass ready and waiting,” she promised, and an hour later, I found out she did just that. I sank down on the sofa next to Seth and Hailey, who were snuggled up on the other end of it, and let out a long sigh.
“That bad, huh?” Hailey asked, nudging the glass full of ruby liquid toward me.
I shook my head, eyes flicking to Seth.
Hailey grinned. “Is this a girls-only type of conversation?”
Seth—gentle, kind Seth—put up his hands. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
“Stay,” I said. “I can’t just drink your wine and kick you out of your own living room.”
“I’ve got some work to finish up,” he said, kissing Hailey on the forehead before bidding us goodnight.
I watched him go and let out a long sigh. That was exactly why I needed to move out and give the two of them space. They deserved privacy while they grew their family—not me trundling in, drinking their booze, and kicking them out of their own living room.
“You have that look on your face like you’re choking on your own guilt,” Hailey pointed out.
I jerked, meeting her gaze. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Carrie. You always do this. You agonize over things that should be simple. Now spill. What’s going on?”
“I was just thinking about how you two”—I glanced at her bump—“soon to be three, deserve your own space. You deserve privacy.”
“Carrie, you know you’re welcome here. We love living with you. It helps our finances, for starters. You pull more than your own weight. And besides,” she added, stroking her belly, “you’ll be a built-in babysitter!”
I laughed, then glanced at the stairs, thinking of Evie. “I guess I owe you about forty thousand hours of babysitting duty by now.”
“You owe me nothing,” Hailey said. “We’re family.”
My heart ached. How would I have made it without her and Seth? Me, who was weak and selfish and cowardly. I didn’t deserve to have such good people supporting me. I didn’t deserve my daughter or my cousin or my life.
“Carrie,” Hailey said, scooting closer to me. “Something happened, didn’t it?”
I slugged my wine and put the glass down. Then I took a deep breath, faced my cousin, and said, “I slept with him.”
She inhaled, wide-eyed. “Oh,” she said.
“And I haven’t told him about Evie.”
“ Oh ,” she repeated.
“And he ended his engagement.”
“Oh, dear .”
I leaned back against the couch and groaned. “Then this morning, I’d just about worked up the courage to tell him everything, and he got a phone call saying his fiancée got in a car accident and is in the hospital.”
Hailey blew out a long breath. Apparently even she was beyond words. Groaning, I slapped my hands over my face .
“Okay,” Hailey started, ever the pragmatist, “that’s okay. The timing is terrible, but, you know, the show must go on.”
I split my fingers and looked at her through the gap. “That makes no sense.”
She tilted her head back and forth. “Well. Fine. But this is salvageable!”
“He kept telling me that he couldn’t believe I came back into his life. He talked to me like—like?—”
“Like?”
“Like he’s in love with me!” Tears welled in my eyes and I brushed them away. My hand shook as I picked up my wine glass, and I tasted none of the drink as I drained my glass.
When Hailey spoke, her voice was so, so gentle. “Why does that make you want to cry, Carrie?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
She reached over to rub the space between my shoulder blades. “All right,” my cousin said, dropping that line of inquiry, probably sensing that I was lying to her. I knew exactly why it made me cry—it was because I was in love with him, but I’d screwed up so monumentally that I’d pretty much guaranteed we’d never be together. How could we, when I’d lied by omission for this long?
As if she could read the direction of my thoughts, Hailey asked, “Why didn’t you tell him right away, Carrie?”
“Because I’m a coward.”
“I don’t think that’s it. A coward wouldn’t be able to raise a little girl as well as you’ve raised Evie.”
“You and Seth have helped with that. ”
“You’re her mother, Carrie,” Hailey chided. “You’re the one who’s done all the parenting.”
My throat was so tight it burned.
“A coward wouldn’t have gone out and looked for a job like you did in those early years, or excelled the way you did, or pushed for more career progression now. So why didn’t you tell him right away?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and all I could do was shake my head.
Hailey sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We should figure out how you’re going to tell him now.”
“I’ll sit him down. Maybe at dinner. A café. Somewhere public.”
“Okay.”
“And then I’ll just say it. I’ll rip the Band-Aid off. ‘Cole, I— You—you’re my daughter’s father.’” I stumbled on the words; even in a role-play, I couldn’t do it.
“Good!” Hailey encouraged. “Good. Then he’ll be shocked, maybe angry, and you’ll say…”
I looked at her, lost. “I’ll say… I have no idea what I’ll say.”
“You’ll explain why you didn’t tell him.”
“Right. I was shocked. I was afraid he’d want to take her away from me, and equally afraid he’d want nothing to do with either of us.”
Hailey nodded supportively. “Okay! We’re getting somewhere!”
I cringed, sank down into the cushions, and groaned. “He’s going to fire me immediately.”
“Probably, yes.”
“And then he’ll point his army of lawyers at me.”
“Possibly. But you’ve got Carla!”
“Stop being so fucking cheery, Hailey. I can’t handle it.” I said it half-jokingly, snort-laughing as tears sprang from my eyes again.
Hailey laughed with me, wiping her own eyes as she leaned her head against my shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” she promised. “You have a home. You have your daughter. You have me and Seth. Everything will work out.”
I nodded, reaching over to pat her hand, grateful that she couldn’t see the look on my face. Because all I heard when she said that was how much of a failure I was. I had a home that she provided for me, because I couldn’t afford one on my own. I had a daughter who deserved so much more than me. I had her and Seth to keep me afloat when I couldn’t manage to build my own life like a functioning adult.
Once Cole saw me for what I was—a failure of a human, a selfish coward, and a liar—he wouldn’t look at me like I was all that mattered in the world. The false image would shatter, and all this would be over. He’d fight me for Evie, or he’d disappear from our lives forever. I would never again have the right to touch him or kiss him or laugh with him.
And after all that, when the dust settled and I cobbled my life together from the rubble, I would still be in love with him.