14. Adam
14
ADAM
I sit in my office, staring at the business reports scattered across my desk. The numbers blur together, a mess of percentages and projections that usually manage to hold my focus.
But today, my mind drifts to Avery. Her tiny fingers gripping mine, the way she looked at me with those big brown eyes.
A knock on the door pulls me back to reality. Thomas steps in, looking every bit the part of a man who bills by the hour.
“Adam, we need to talk about your latest instructions,” he says, settling into the chair opposite me.
I nod, pushing the reports aside. I know why he seems so upset and I’m ready to push back and get my way. “Go on.”
He takes a breath, clearly choosing his words carefully. “You want to halt the proceedings to remove Destiny’s stakes in your company. That’s a drastic move.”
“The situation has changed,” I say calmly, leaning forward. “The child is mine.”
Thomas blinks, taken aback for a moment before regaining his composure. “I see. And you’re certain?”
“Absolutely.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Understandably, this changes everything.”
He nods slowly. “I understand your perspective, but this could complicate matters further.”
“I don’t care about complications,” I snap. “The most important thing for me right now is my child.”
He holds up a hand, attempting to calm me down. “Adam, I get it. But if we halt proceedings now, it’ll look like we’re stalling for some advantage. The court might not look kindly on that.”
“I’m not stalling,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m reevaluating everything in light of new information.”
Thomas sighs, adjusts his tie, and shifts in his chair. “If we proceed with this strategy, it could drag everything out even longer.”
“Let it drag,” I say firmly. “I need time to figure out how Avery fits into everything.”
He nods again, slower this time. “Alright, but you should be prepared for a prolonged situation.”
“I’ll deal with it,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
“Very well,” he replies, standing up. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements and keep you updated.”
“Do that,” I say as he heads for the door.
Once he’s gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My thoughts drift back to Avery again—how she giggled when I made silly faces at her and how natural it felt holding her.
The reports on my desk suddenly seem trivial compared to what’s at stake now.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call from one of my department heads, but I let it go to voicemail.
Right now, nothing is more important than figuring out how to navigate this new reality with Avery in it.
And dealing with Destiny? Well, that’s a storm I'll face head-on when it comes.
For now, it's all about making sure my daughter has everything she needs.
After the meeting, I head to Destiny’s apartment for another visit with Avery. The building is decent enough, but as I step inside her unit, I can’t help but feel a pang of discomfort. It’s cramped, even if it’s well-kept and pretty up-scale.
My home—the home we shared—is spacious, filled with light and possibilities. This place feels like a compromise.
My jaw clenches. This isn't right. My daughter deserves better.
Destiny greets me with a nod, her expression guarded. She steps aside to let me in. I take in the small living room, its corners filled with baby toys and a stroller tucked against the wall.
“Adam,” she says, breaking the silence.
“Destiny.” My tone is clipped. We’ve barely spoken since the courtroom disaster. I get the feeling that today won’t be any different.
I follow her to Avery’s room, taking a closer look at the room this time. The crib sits against the far wall close to the window and rocking chair, and she’s lying there, cooing at a mobile above her.
I walk over and pick her up, feeling the tension ease as she fits perfectly in my arms. “Hey there, little one.”
Destiny hovers nearby, her arms crossed. The tension between us is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.
"She needs a diaper change," she says.
I lay Avery on the changing table, fumbling a bit with the diaper. I managed last time, I can do it this time.
Destiny watches, her expression unreadable.
"Like this," she says, stepping in to help. Our hands brush, and I pull back like I've been shocked.
"I've got it," I snap, harsher than I intended.
She steps back, hurt flashing in her eyes before she masks it. "Fine."
I finish changing Avery, then cradle her against my chest. She babbles happily, oblivious to the tension surrounding her.
Avery holds onto my clothes as I rock her gently. Destiny left the room earlier but returned, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile playing on her lips.
The tension that’s been suffocating us since this whole mess started seems to lift, replaced by something almost... normal.
I can’t put my finger on what causes the shift in the atmosphere, but it’s welcome. Spending time with Avery when things are awkward would make it far less enjoyable.
"She’s got your eyes," I say, glancing over at Destiny. I feel a little pang of regret for snapping at her earlier but push it down. She did lie to me, afterall.
"And your stubbornness," she replies, a hint of laughter in her voice.
I chuckle, adjusting Avery in my arms. "That could be a dangerous combination."
"We’ll manage," Destiny says, her eyes softening as she watches us.
Avery starts to drift off, her eyelids fluttering. I move to the crib and lay her down gently, pulling the blanket over her. She settles almost immediately, a tiny fist resting near her mouth.
"I’ve been getting the house ready," I say quietly, not wanting to disturb Avery’s sleep.
Destiny stays quiet for a second before softly speaking. "Ready for what?"
"For Avery’s visits," I reply, turning to face her. "I want the next one to be at my place."
She hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Alright."
We leave the nursery and sit down in the living room. A moment of silence envelopes us before Destiny clears her throat. "She slept through the night for the first time ever last night."
I study her face and realize this must be an important milestone. "That’s great. Maybe she’ll do that regularly from now on."
Destiny smiles. "I’d be very lucky if she does. Some kids don’t sleep through even after 12 months."
We fall into an easy conversation, talking about Avery’s other milestones and little quirks. It’s nice—like old times without the weight of everything hanging over us. We steer clear of anything serious—no talk of work or divorce. Just Avery and the small joys she brings.
After a while, I glance at my watch. "I should go."
Destiny nods but doesn’t move right away. "Thanks for coming today," she says finally.
"Of course," I reply. "I’ll see you both soon."
When I step out into the hallway, I pause and look back at her. There’s something there—something we both feel but don’t say out loud but can feel.
I walk to the door without saying anything and stop short, about to leave. There's a weighty silence hanging between us.
Destiny shifts on her feet, her eyes flickering between me and the door. The air feels charged, like we're both on the brink of saying something but can't quite find the words.
"I'll see you soon," I finally say, gripping the door handle.
"Yeah," she replies softly.
I nod, but something keeps me rooted to the spot. I feel compelled to say something nice after being so harsh. "You did a good job with her, you know. Avery."
Destiny’s lips twitch into a small smile. "Thanks. I’m glad you think so. It hasn’t been easy…"
"I can imagine," I say, though I can't really. Not fully.
She looks down at her hands, twisting them nervously. "Adam, I?—"
But I cut her off. "Let's not do this now." My voice is firm, almost harsh again.
Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and searching. "Do what?"
"This," I gesture vaguely between us. "Rehashing everything."
She sighs and nods, a resigned look crossing her face. "You're right."
I take a step back, needing to break the magnetic pull between us. But she steps forward, closing the distance again.
"Adam," she says softly, almost pleadingly.
"Destiny," I respond, my tone an unspoken warning.
She bites her lip, clearly struggling with something she wants to say but can't bring herself to voice.
I shake my head slightly. "We need to focus on Avery right now."
"I know," she whispers. "But it’s hard."
"Yeah," I admit grudgingly. "It is."
For a moment, we're just standing there, looking at each other like we used to when things were simpler—before everything got so damn complicated.
"Take care of yourself," she says finally.
"You too."
I turn and leave quickly before either of us can say anything else that might complicate things even more.
As I walk down the hallway and out of her apartment building, my mind is a whirl of conflicting emotions—anger at how things turned out, guilt for missing out on so much with Avery, and something else that feels dangerously close to longing.
I push it all aside as I get into my car and drive away, focusing instead on what needs to be done next for my daughter’s sake.