23. Everett
Everett
The theater smells like fresh paint. It has become a smell I associate with progress.
One week. That’s how long it had been since Sydney told me that I have a daughter. One week since the phone call that shifted the ground under my feet.
The stage lights are half-installed above me as I stand in the center of the theater, tightening the final screws on one of the aisle railings.
The grand opening is in one week.
After months of work, planning, fundraising, and more late nights than I can count, the place finally looks like the vision I had in my head when I bought the building.
Rows of polished seats. Fresh paint on the walls. The old marquee out front is glowing again for the first time in years.
Lavender Creek is excited. People stop me almost daily to ask when the first movie is. Normally, that excitement would have been the only thing on my mind, instead, my thoughts keep oscillating between the same two things.
Violet and Emily.
One week of carrying the weight of knowing I might have a daughter.
Every time I think about it my brain tries to fill in the blanks.
What does she look like?
Does she have my eyes?
Sydney’s smile?
Does she ask questions about where her dad is?
Or has she grown up without ever wondering about me?
There is nothing more to be done at the theater, and I can’t concentrate, so I head back to the ranch.
The first person I’m telling is Riley, and I make that call as soon as I get back to the ranch.
I dial as I pace around it in circles. I feel like I have had time to gather my thoughts, and with Riley being a dad, and knowing Sydney, talking things through with him will hopefully bring me some clarity.
“Hey, man,” Riley answers.
“I need advice,” I say immediately.
“Alright,” he says slowly, “what’s up?”
“I called Sydney back,” I admit.
“Okay…”
I rub my hand on the back of my neck. “She says I have a daughter.”
The silence on the other end stretches for a second.
Then Riley lets out a whistle. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“How old?” he asks.
“Three,” I respond.
Another pause, before he asks, “You, okay?”
“No.”
“Understandable,” he says.
I drag a hand through my hair. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with this.”
Riley’s voice shifts into the calm, steady tone he uses when things actually matter. “First thing, you breathe,” he says. “Second thing, you slow down.”
“My brain is currently trying to plan the next eighteen years of my life.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s the exact opposite of slowing down.”
I make my way to my parents’ porch and sit down.
“Did she ask for anything?” he asks.
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Did she say she wants you involved?”
“She said she wasn’t expecting anything, just that it felt unfair not to tell me!” I explained.
Riley hums thoughtfully.
“Alright, then here’s my advice.”
I wait.
“Ask for a paternity test.”
“That hadn’t crossed my mind.”
“Not because you think she’s lying,” Riley continues, “but because this is your entire life we’re talking about.”
“That makes sense,” I answer.
“Then, if the kid is yours, you figure out what kind of dad you want to be.”
“What if I’m not ready for that?”
“No one is,” Riley says.
“You were.”
He laughs.
“No, I wasn’t. I was terrified.”
That surprises me.
“You never looked terrified,” I say.
“That’s because there was a tiny human depending on me to pretend I knew what I was doing,” he explains.
I smile faintly.
“But here’s the thing,” he adds. “Once you meet them, it changes everything.”
I replay the conversation in my head before doing anything. Especially the part about slowing down. Which is exactly what I try to do.
Step one: ask Sydney for a paternity test.
Which somehow makes the situation feel even more real.
“Everett.” I turn to see Henry walk across the theater floor.
“You’re staring at that railing as if it has insulted you,” he says.
I huff a quiet laugh.
“I’m just thinking,” I say.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he says, crossing his arms.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks.
I hesitate.
Henry has always been straightforward with me. No games. No pressure.
“My ex called,” I say finally.
“Sydney?” Henry asks.
I nod.
“That rarely leads to good news,” Henry says.
I exhale. “She says I have a kid.”
Henry blinks.
“A what?”
“A daughter.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“How old?”
“Three.”
Henry sinks into the chair at the end of the row. “You believe her?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I did ask for a paternity test.”
He nods. “Smart.”
“Riley figured I should know for sure before my life explodes.”
“Good advice,” Henry adds.
After a quiet minute. “What about Violet?” Henry asks.
“I haven’t told her yet,” I respond.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even know if it’s real yet.”
“And if it is?” Henry asks.
“Then I have to figure out what kind of father I am going to be.”
“Are you worried about what that means for you guys?” Henry asks.
“We just started something. I don’t want to drop a three-year-old child into the middle of it before I even know what I am doing.”
“That’s reasonable, just don’t wait too long to tell her. I don’t want you to lose her. She’s good for you,” Henry says.
I rub the back of my neck. “I want to tell her. I just need to know for real first.”
Henry studies me for a second. “You look like a man carrying a lot of weight alone.”
“I’m working on fixing that,” I say.
Later that afternoon, I finally make the phone call I’ve been putting off.
Sydney answers on the second ring.
“Hey.” Her voice is calm.
Which somehow made the conversation feel less explosive than the first one.
“Hey,” I say.
There is a brief pause.
“I figured you might call,” she says.
“I have had some time to think.”
“Okay,” she says.
“I want to do a paternity test.”
“Okay,” she says.
The lack of resistance catches me off guard.
“You’re not upset?”
“No,” she says. “I expected it.”
I exhale slowly.
“If she’s mine, I want to meet her.”
Sydney doesn’t speak for a second.
“I don’t know what being involved looks like yet,” I continue. “But if she’s my daughter, I want to know her.”
“I understand,” she says.
“And Sydney,” I add carefully, “I need to be clear about something.”
“Okay.”
“I am seeing someone.”
Silence stretches briefly.
“That’s great, Everett,” she says, sounding confused.
“If you’re telling me about Emily because you think we might be able to start over…”
“That’s not why,” she interrupts.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Her voice softens. “I’ve been with someone for two years. His name is Chace.”
I don’t know why, but I have this sudden protective feeling for Emily.
“Is he around Emily a lot?” I ask.
“Every day,” she says. “He’s a good guy, he is a chef at a restaurant here in LA, Emily adores him. You don’t need to worry,” she reassures me.
Something about hearing that was both comforting and strange. Comforting because my daughter, maybe, has someone kind around her. Strange because that role could have been mine.
“I’m not trying to complicate your life,” Sydney says gently.
“I’ll have my lawyer set up the paternity test,” she says. “You’ll get an email with the details.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say.
“For what it’s worth, you’ll be a good dad, if that is what you choose.”
I don’t know how to respond to that.
After the call ends, I sit in that empty theater again.
Then I call Riley to give him an update.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.
“I talked to her, and we are doing the paternity test.”
“That’s good, one step down,” Riley says.
“If she’s mine, I am going to meet her.”
“That’s the right move.”
“Syd has a boyfriend, been together for two years,” I tell him.
“That simplifies things for you?” he asks.
“It does, ya.”
“What about Violet?”
That question sits heavier than the rest.
“I still haven’t told her.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know how this ends.”
Riley is quiet for a moment.
“You’re scared it will push her away?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I respond.
“Well, you keeping it from her might push her away, too, man. If she’s the right woman, this news won’t make her leave.”
I stare up at the theater lights. One week until the grand opening. An unknown amount of time until the paternity results. And somewhere in the middle of all that is Violet.
The one person I want to be the most honest with.
Maybe waiting to tell her until I know all the answers isn’t the right thing to do.
Maybe having someone walk alongside me in life, helping me deal with things thrown my way, is the whole point.
Maybe it’s time to lean into what we have and let her in.