Chapter 15
Addison
“What did he want?” I asked, peeping out from behind the kitchen counter.
Monica closed the door behind her and looked around until she spotted me on all fours on the black and white tile. She shook her head at me and let out a soft laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said.
“No, I’m not.”
She raised an eyebrow. Okay, I was being ridiculous. But Daniel showing up at my apartment was not on my bingo card for the day. Being pregnant with his baby wasn’t either, but here we were.
When I heard the knock at my door, I assumed it was Elma.
What I saw through my peephole was Daniel looking like some freaking GQ model in a charcoal gray suit with his hair pushed back.
My stomach did several backflips, as if it were competing for the gold medal in gymnastics.
I stumbled backward and told Monica to answer the door in a commanding whisper.
A small part of me wanted to go out there and tell him off. A larger part of me, and the more stupid part of me, just wanted to hear his voice and feel his blue eyes on me again. But I couldn’t face him, hence me being tucked away in my tiny kitchen.
Monica walked over and offered me her hand. She pulled me to stand and leaned against the counter, staring straight ahead.
“So?” I asked. “What did he say?”
“He wanted to see you.”
She shrugged so nonchalantly that I just wanted to shake whatever information she had out of her. She had just walked back in the door and I was already feeling my patience growing thin.
“And?” I asked, my voice rising slightly.
“That’s it. It’s not like we went out for coffee, Heart. The guy was here for maybe a minute. I wasn’t exactly welcoming.”
“Monica!” I said, exasperated.
“What?” she asked. “You expect me to be friendly to the guy?”
I could just see her tough guy act now. No wonder Daniel high-tailed it out of here.
I loved my best friend to death. Her protectiveness of me was endearing, but I half-hoped there would be more to Daniel’s visit.
Like her digging for answers, or him pushing past her and barging in here looking for me.
I leaned against the counter, feeling disappointed.
The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted. This whole time I had been pushing Daniel away since I told him I was pregnant. That phone call had been a complete disaster, and his reaction had nearly broken my heart in two.
It wasn’t like I was in love with the guy. Hell, I didn’t even know if I liked him all that much. We had spent more time having sex than we had talking in the short time we had known each other. Good sex. Amazing sex. But still. I just didn’t expect my start to motherhood to be like this.
I had been ignoring his emails. Thirteen to be exact.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t read them over and over again, looking for some unsaid thing behind his professional verbiage.
He was a businessman through and through.
He had called, too, but never left a voicemail.
It was probably better that way. Hearing his voice would probably make me lose all resolve. I was determined to stay strong.
Now, he was showing up at my apartment. I wondered where he had gotten my address. I was also surprised he had made the drive out to Brooklyn.
I looked over at Monica who seemed like she was in her head.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Nothing.”
Her voice was an octave higher. Liar.
I spotted something in her hand.
“What is that?” I asked, nodding to her hand that suddenly tightened its grip.
She looked up at the ceiling and sighed before opening her hand.
She held it out to me and I saw a folded piece of paper.
I picked it up and unfolded it carefully.
It was a check for more than I would make in ten years at Leading to Learn.
Daniel’s name was in the upper right-hand corner. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” said Monica softly.
“He just gave this to you?”
“Yeah, he wrote it right by the stairs and handed it over. He said he wanted to help and that you could do whatever you wanted with the money.”
I suddenly felt angry and sad. Two emotions that had been on rotation for weeks now. I was really hoping happiness would take a turn soon. The only glimpse of happiness I had was hearing my baby’s heartbeat, but then sadness took over. And fear.
I could feel hot tears forming at the backs of my eyes.
I was angry at myself for avoiding him the past few weeks when maybe he was trying to turn things around.
But if his way of making things better was writing a big fat check, then he wasn’t ready to be a father.
I couldn’t fault him for that. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, but I was going to try my hardest for my baby.
I knew Daniel didn’t ask for this. I hadn’t either. I guessed I just expected more. I was stupid for expecting anything at all. I was stupid for going home with him in the first place. Did I really think we were going to just talk and get to know each other?
I wished so badly that I could turn back time and never have stepped foot into Bemelman’s. But then I wouldn’t have this baby growing inside me. I had never felt so torn in my life.
I sunk back down to the kitchen floor and leaned my head against the cabinets.
Monica slid down beside me. I looked at the check again.
“ This is how he wants to help?” I asked, shaking it in front of Monica’s face.
“Maybe it’s the only way he knows how,” she said.
“Well, I don’t need it.”
“Heart—” started Monica.
“No!”
My voice was shaky as I held the check in front of me, ready to rip it into pieces. I was sure I didn’t need anything from Daniel Jacobs. I could do this on my own.
Before I could so much as put a small tear in the check, Monica snatched it out of my hands.
“Hey!” I yelled, reaching for it.
“Don’t do this,” said Monica firmly. “Whether you keep this baby or not, it would be stupid to throw this away. It’s chump change to him, but it could be life-changing for you. Or if you decide not to use it for yourself, you could put it into the nonprofit.”
I blinked back tears as I tried to swallow down my anger toward Monica. Toward Daniel. Toward this whole messy situation. As much as I wanted to tell my best friend off, I knew she was being practical and I was being emotional.
I put my head in my hands and the quiet sobs came.
Monica put her arm around me and we sat in silence for several minutes.
I knew I needed money. I knew the reality of living in a tiny loft in Brooklyn and living on one salary that I already scraped by on.
Also, I knew that I had my best friend to lean on, but it wasn’t enough.
At the end of the day, I would be raising this baby by myself.
How was I going to support myself and a tiny human?
I lifted my head when the tears stopped coming and sniffled.
“You’re going to be okay, Heart,” said Monica.
“Maybe,” I said. “I have to make a call.”
Monica looked at me, confused.
“Daniel?” she asked.
I shook my head. “My parents.”
I was sure that response shocked her more than if I would have said Daniel.
I hadn’t spoken to my parents in years. Our relationship hadn’t always been the best. I always felt like I wasn’t good enough for them.
I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. Every little thing I did seemed to disappoint them.
I didn’t know what made them have such high standards for me, but it was exhausting.
Things really went south when I got a job at the nonprofit. They didn’t understand why I took a job that paid so little. When I explained to them that it wasn’t about the money, and it was about helping others, they scoffed. They told me I would regret it.
It was then that I felt empowered enough to put distance between us. I was an adult and capable of making my own decisions. I no longer needed their support or their roof over my head. I was free.
Gradually, the void between us grew. I began skipping trips home for the holidays, and eventually stopped visiting at all. The calls stopped too, on my end and theirs.
As I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, Monica stood and quietly excused herself to the living room to give me privacy. As if there could be privacy in my apartment.
I inhaled a shaky breath as I scrolled through my contacts and found the number to my parents’ house. I pressed the green send button and closed my eyes as the rings trilled.
“Hello?” I heard my mother answer.
I held my breath and struggled to speak.
“Hello?” she asked again.
“Mom?” I asked softly.
I paused.
“Addison? Is that you?”
I heard the quiet disbelief in her voice.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Wow. Um, how are you? Wait. Wait. Let me get your dad on the line.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
I heard her hand cover the receiver and muffled words. She was probably coaxing my dad out of his recliner in the living room where he sat and watched the news all day. I could see it now. It almost made me miss them. Almost.
I heard the click of another phone pick up.
“Addison?” my dad asked, just as disbelieving as my mom.
“Hey, Dad.”
“This is a surprise.”
“Yeah…listen. I have some news.”
I just wanted to cut right to it. We were never very good at small talk anyway.
“Okay…” my mom said hesitantly.
“I’m pregnant.”
There was silence on the other line. I looked at my phone, wondering if we had lost connection. We hadn’t.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Pregnant? Wow,” said my mom unenthusiastically.
“Um, and your boyfriend or husband…” started my dad.
“The dad isn’t in the picture actually,” I replied, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
I could have sworn I heard my mother mutter something under her breath. Something like “Of course, he isn’t.”
“Addison…how are you going to do this?” asked my dad. At least there was a hint of concern in his voice.
“I’m figuring it out.”
“By calling us…” said my mom. I could hear the sneer in her voice.
This had been an incredibly stupid idea on my part. Did I really expect them to be happy for me? Did I really expect them to help me?
“I just thought—”
“We’re not millionaires, Addison,” said my mom.
“I know that. I just thought…”
“Thought what? You could call up your parents, who you cut out of your life, and ask for help with your mistake?” She laughed sarcastically.
“Nancy…” my dad warned. I could tell he was torn.
“Don’t ‘Nancy’ me. She’s not getting a dime out of us.”
“Maybe we could—”
“No, John. We could not.”
They continued to bicker, completely forgetting I was on the phone at all. I shook my head and ended the call.
“How did that go?” asked Monica, peeping over the countertop.
“As you’d imagine,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Heart.”
“Me too.”