Chapter 27
BAILEY
A knock at the door startled me.
It was only eight, still early, but I had hoped to sleep through the rest of this miserable day.
My head throbbed after the disastrous meeting with Ashton, and skipping dinner had not helped.
I had no appetite anyway. The headache lingered, dull and relentless, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out.
I let out a tired breath and dragged myself to the door.
“Who is it?” I called, already bracing myself.
“It’s me. Ashton. Please, let me in.”
His voice sounded softer than I expected.
“I have had enough for one day,” I said, defeated. “Just leave, Ashton.”
“I promise I just want to talk, not argue,” he said quickly. “And my hand is burned. I do not know how much longer I can hold this.”
“What?” Panic cut through my exhaustion.
I swung the door open, expecting blood or pain. Instead, he stood there far too calmly, holding two cups of coffee, a paper bag tucked under his arm.
“Thanks,” he said as he stepped inside. “I almost spilled the coffee. I asked for it extra hot and did not realize it would stay hot this long.”
He set everything on the table as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
“We were supposed to have dinner today,” he added, suddenly awkward. “Since you left early, I ordered takeout. I was hoping you had not eaten.”
He ran a hand through his hair. Then again.
He was nervous. I knew that habit too well.
I remained standing, silent, and it only seemed to make him more uneasy.
“Please, Bailey,” he said gently. “Can you sit down? I just want to say something.”
He placed one of the coffees on the table in front of me like an offering.
“You are lucky I am hungry,” I muttered as I sat. “I do not have the energy to fight.”
I opened the paper bag, and my mouth watered at the sight of the food. There was more than enough for two. He grabbed plates and handed them to me. I divided the food and passed some to him. He accepted it but barely ate, watching me instead. He only sipped his coffee.
“I have decided to put the custody on hold,” he said quietly.
I stopped eating and stared at him.
“As much as I want to meet and bond with my son, it would be wrong to put him in the middle of a battle,” he continued. “I will step back and give us time to handle this the right way.”
He exhaled slowly. “I am sorry, Bailey. Since you came back, I have kept hurting you and pressuring you. You do not deserve that. I was wrong to control your life and take away your choices. It was selfish.”
“Thank you,” I said calmly. “But that does not mean I forgive you. Years of being accused by someone I trusted cannot be erased with an apology. And do not suggest being a family again. It is insulting, especially knowing you were about to marry my ex best friend.”
“Bailey, I need you to understand my relationship with Lynda.”
“I do not want to know,” I cut in sharply, even as my chest ached.
“No, please listen,” he said. “There was no romantic relationship between us. We agreed to pretend we were engaged. It was only supposed to last less than two years to save my company. I did promise to consider a marriage of convenience, but I never intended for it to go that far. My mistake was not being honest with her sooner. When I discovered her lies, I let the illusion continue.”
“Are you telling me you never slept with her and expect me to believe it?” I scoffed. “You were together for five years, right?”
“That was the story she told to make it believable,” he said.
“I met her five years ago, but only briefly. I want to be honest with you. Yes, I slept with her once. It was a mistake, and I cut ties after that. Years later, we met again and formed a friendship that eventually led to a business partnership through a fake engagement.”
My mind spiraled. Relief. Disgust. Confusion.
I did not even know why I cared.
“Can we start over, Bailey?” he asked softly. “No pressure. No obligation. Just getting to know each other again.”
“I honestly do not know how to move on from this,” I admitted. “Do I forgive and forget?”
He looked sad. “We share a son. We need to find a way to be civil. I want more, but I will accept whatever you are willing to give.”
I sat quietly, weighing his words. For our son, we needed common ground. He had taken a step back, and that mattered.
Then my phone rang.
Sissy.
“Do you want to see and talk to our son?” I asked, offering an olive branch.
Ashton froze, stunned.
“Now?” he stammered, suddenly nervous. It was almost comical.
I did not give him time to back out. I started a video call, and Sissy’s cheerful face appeared on the screen.
“Sissy,” I said, “can you call Tristan? Someone wants to meet him.”
She looked confused. Then Ashton stepped into view.
Understanding dawned, and she turned, calling out for my son.
Here it went.