Chapter 24 #2
My mind has been swirling with a myriad of thoughts since the moment I saw my son on that screen.
And now, with the definitive knowledge that Mark doesn’t want to have a part in this baby’s life, I know I have to ask the tough questions because the what ifs of life are simply too unpredictable to ignore.
What if something happens to me? Would Mark have to take the baby or could I be prepared to have someone else raise him?
What if something happened to the baby? Would I have to consult Mark to make any decisions?
I hate that’s where my mind went. I don’t want to hurt him, but I think—in the long run—it’s what’s best for everyone.
I close my eyes, afraid to ask the question that’s been floating through my mind, but force the words out anyway. “If I had the paperwork drawn up, would you…would you be willing to sign your rights away?”
I hear him swallow, but his words are clear when he speaks. “Is that what you want?”
“I think it’s what’s best. Not that you need it from me, but it would protect you from ever worrying about child support or anything.”
“I’m not worried about that,” he rushes to say.
Silence descends, and I don’t know what to say to break it. If it’s even my place to say anything right now.
“I don’t want you to judge me for making this decision.” He exhales, long and shaky.
“Never,” I promise, the word fierce and immediate. “I’d never judge you, Mark. We both know what we want—or don’t want. This doesn’t change that.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
There’s another pause, this one filled with a finality I didn’t feel when he left, but hurts more than I thought it would.
“Have the paperwork drawn up and I’ll sign.” There’s a warmth to his tone that surprises me, something almost like the old Mark, the one I fell in love with all those years ago.
“Thank you,” I say through a well of emotion. I can’t put a name to everything I’m feeling, but gratitude is there, front and center. “I should let you go. It’s Saturday, I’m sure you’ve got appointments you can’t be late for.”
“Madison,” he stops me, and when he speaks again, his voice is different, softer. “I love you.”
The words hang between us, unexpected and raw.
“Not like that,” he rushes to say, quickly trying to backtrack. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” I give a watery laugh, tears slipping free despite my best efforts. “It’s not the way we thought it was, but it’s love all the same.”
“Friends?” he asks quietly.
“Always,” I agree.
I don’t know why, but somehow this conversation provides a sense of closure I didn’t even know we were missing. There were no harsh words or feelings left unsaid when we broke up, but this feels like the end of a massive chapter in my life. One I didn’t realize still needed a clean ending.
“When are you due?” The words are hesitant, like he thinks he doesn’t have a right to ask, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Mark may not want to be part of this child’s life, but he’s a part of us no matter what, and he’ll always have the right to know what’s going on.
“I don’t know the exact date, but it should be late April.”
I still have to find a primary OB and get the answers to the mountain of questions in my head, but if my math is right, the baby should be here in four and a half months.
“Can you…can you let me know when you’ve had him? That you’re both all right?”
“Of course.”
We talk for a couple more minutes, the conversation lighter now that the weight has lifted.
I tell him I’ll send him the paperwork as soon as I have it, and he tells me he trusts me and not to add that to my lists of worries.
It’s easy and familiar, another moment of closure.
And when we finally hang up, I can breathe a little easier.
I sit in the kitchen for a long moment, the phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the silence.
The conversation went better than I expected. Mark was honest, I was honest, and somehow we found our way to something like peace. But now the real weight settles over me—telling my parents, figuring out what comes next, navigating a future I never planned for…and Beckett.
I walk to the front window, peering out across the driveway to the cottage that sits dark and quiet. Beckett’s not there right now if the stillness is anything to go by, but I know if I called him he’d be there for me in a heartbeat.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I know before I look that it’s him. I lift it with a trembling hand and read the text.
Beckett
I don’t want to bother you, just want you to know I’m here if you need me. Really here.
The words blur as fresh tears fill my eyes. He’s here. He’s always here, steady and sure, offering me exactly what I need even when I don’t know how to ask for it.
I could respond. Ask him to come back. Let him hold me and tell me everything will be okay. He’d mean it, do everything in his power to make it true. But I can’t. Not when I’m about to become a single mom to a baby I never planned for. Not when my life is about to change in ways I can’t predict.
Starting something with Beckett now, when I’m this uncertain, when I have so much to figure out…it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. He deserves someone who can meet him exactly where he is. Someone who isn’t drowning in chaos. Someone who knows what they want.
I let my hand fall to my side, the screen still glowing with his message, and turn away from the window.
My eyes fall on the journals stacked on the coffee table, right where I left them. Generations of Hawthorne women who built this land and raised children here. Women who faced their own impossible choices and their own uncertain futures.
Maybe it’s not the right move to make at the moment, but it’s the one I need.
I settle on the couch, pulling the first journal into my lap and begin to read.