Chapter 29
Fitz
One Month Later
The bacon sizzles in a skillet, and I'm busy scrambling eggs in a pan. I can hear music wafting in from the room next door, where Tessa is nursing four-week-old Charlotte to sleep.
I've lost track of whether this is her morning nap or her midmorning nap. The baby sleeps all the time and doesn't seem to be on any sort of schedule.
“It's normal,” Tessa says, when I bring her the plate of eggs.
“Really? Are you sure we’re not fucking this up somehow?” I gesture to Charlotte and the room and my house. “I want to do everything right.”
“We're definitely doing everything right because you’ve read every baby book known to man, and we’re following all the instructions.” The sweet chime of Tessa’s laughter sounds like music. Charlotte looks up at me with her big, blurry eyes as if she agrees.
“Oh my god, that smells delicious, and I am starving. Again. Seriously,” Tessa says, shifting the baby from one arm to the other in a graceful dance move and grabbing a fork.
She heaps a big bite of eggs onto a piece of toast and takes a monster bite.
A dribble of butter runs down her chin, and she mops it up with the back of her hand.
“I’ve lost all my manners and social graces, clearly.
” She rolls her eyes at herself and takes another big bite.
“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, honestly.”
“Well, you spend time around horses, so no surprise you don’t mind me eating like one. I don’t even know how I could be hungry when I ate two pieces of toast an hour ago.”
“I like any excuse to cook, so this is all working for me.” I gesture at her and Charlotte, who is still tucked in, nursing.
Who am I kidding? I like doing anything I can for her.
Nothing makes me happier than seeing this self-sufficient woman put down her to-do list and allow me to take some of the weight from her shoulders.
I’d do it all day long instead of half the shit I’m supposed to be doing.
Probably why my restaurant clients are blowing up my phone.
“You’re eating for two since you’re nursing,” I remind her.
“Feels like I’m eating for twelve.”
I pick up a slice of cantaloupe and take a bite.
We've both been walking around like zombies, mostly because we’ve been enjoying our time together in the same town instead of sleeping when Charlotte sleeps. We sit just like we are now, with Charlotte on one of our laps or in the little bassinet in the corner, and we talk.
Each time I get to know a little bit more about Tessa, it feels like a new, amazing first date. Tessa hasn’t really been on a true maternity leave because whenever she can, she researches case law for the trial against Tomahawk, which is coming up fast.
And I’ve been dealing with Chad, who went on a two-day bender and called me late last night.
I still haven’t told Tessa the details. Better to protect her from that ugliness.
“Thanks for covering last night,” I say.
We’ve been taking turns with the middle-of-the-night feedings, but I was out all night, so Tessa took that shift.
“How’s he doing?”
I shrug. “Okay.”
She waits, but I don’t elaborate. What’s the point? Chad has promised to clean up his act so many times I’ve lost count, and I don’t want to make excuses for him.
“Fitz, you can talk to me. What’s up with Chad?”
“Nothing new,” I say. Charlotte has finished eating and has that drunken look on her face that I love to see. “Here, let me take her.”
I scoop her onto my lap and tuck the blankets around her a little more tightly so she feels secure. Tessa watches this with a look of wonderment in her eyes that she’s had since Charlotte was born.
“I can't believe she's almost a month old.” It’s the tenth time she’s said it in the past couple of days, the implication clear.
Our little babymoon is over. Tessa’s car is already packed, and she’s getting ready to make the drive down to LA.
From now on, we’ll coordinate our time with Charlotte and begin our life as long-distance co-parents.
It fucking sucks. Might as well give voice to it, even if it hurts to say the words out loud.
“I wish you didn’t have to head back to LA.” I should say more. Ask if she can stay a little longer, but I know it’s impossible. She’s already given up so much of her time for me, and I can’t offer her any enticement worth staying for, not when my business and family life are still in shambles.
All I can do is sit here, feeling so gobsmacked by how much I love both of them that I can’t even articulate my feelings.
Part of what I’m feeling is fear of the void. There will be no kissing and holding Tessa the way I have been doing so freely. No pretending our little bubble of living together is real. No future where we teach our daughter to ride horses and tumble down dirt hills.
“I know. It's going to be a long car ride, but I think she's up for it,” Tessa says.
I look for a sign that she’s feeling what I am, that she wants to stay here, even though I know it’s impossible. But she’s back in list-making mode, only concerned about the concrete logistics of a two-hour drive with a baby in the car.
“Well, she made it up here from the hospital,” I say, trying to muster enthusiasm for her discussion about the drive.
Tessa’s hair falls into her face, and I start to reach for her, ready to tuck it away and be there for her.
But she doesn’t need me to do that. She’s a strong, independent woman with a kick-ass job back in LA.
I shouldn’t make it any harder on her to leave than it needs to be.
“Yeah, but she was a brand-new baby then. Do you think she'll notice the difference now?”
“I think she's smart like her mama. She'll probably notice everything.” I pull Tessa a little closer to me on the couch, and she folds herself against me. If she’s not going to offer me what I want, I’ll take it.
I love the feeling of having the two most important women in my life this close. For as long as I have them both here.
I know I shouldn't be thinking of Tessa in any way other than as a partner and the mother to my child, but at moments like this and, let's face it, lots of other moments, I can't help imagining what it might be like if we were permanent.
I imagine days of waking up next to Tessa, checking on Charlotte, making breakfast for both of us, going off to work, having Tessa do her legal work in the next room, Charlotte in her little bed in the room next door.
Then I stop myself because that little dream isn't reality, and it won’t ever be. It doesn't fit into either of our lives. All along, we’ve been applauding ourselves for being so mature about the decision we've made. Now isn't the time to fuck it all up.
Or maybe I already have.
Being stoic and afraid to let myself love her. And now the heartbreak of watching her leave. But it’s not up to me. Our lives don’t make sense together, and we both know it.
“I think someone's going to miss you,” Tessa says.
For a second, I think she's talking about herself. I'm about to tell her how much I'll miss her, too, and ask her to stay. It's something I've been thinking about constantly, and maybe it's worth putting it out there.
Then I look at her and realize she's gazing down at Charlotte. Of course, she's talking about the baby, not herself.
“Oh, well, I'll miss her too, of course.” I run the palm of my hand over our daughter’s soft hair, which feels like duck fluff.
“But Daddy's going to see you in just a few days.
That's what we decided, right?” I don't know where my singsong baby voice comes from, but it just sort of happened as soon as she was born.
“I'm going to miss both of you, if I'm honest,” I say. Might as well put it out there and see what response I get.
“Aw,” Tessa says. “That's sweet.” She looks like she might say more.
Her mouth is open, but then she closes it again and looks down at her lap.
She busies herself eating another couple of bites of eggs.
I wonder what she was about to say, and then I think maybe it's better if I don't know, especially if she was going to tell me to stop saying things like the fact that I will miss her too.
I busy myself packing up Charlotte's overnight bag, which is more like a suitcase, which is really more like three suitcases. “I never knew babies had so much shit.”
“That’s your fault. You bought her most of it,” Tessa teases, picking up one of the little outfits, which has yellow pants with monkeys on them and a matching shirt with a banana on the chest.
“I just picture her in it, and I want to buy another one,” I say.
“I'm not gonna talk you out of it. I love this side of you.”
I should be grateful that she loves a side of me, but I’m not. I want her to love all of me.
I don't want her to leave.
I pull her in a little tighter and plant a kiss on her temple. Then another on her cheek.
She lets out a little sigh and leans and snuggles into me. We could almost have this.
“Could you maybe stay a little longer?” It’s not what I want to ask her. I want her to stay forever.
She blinks at me. “Like how much longer?”
“As long as you can.”
“You mean a few more weeks?”
I start pacing the room. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through. I just like having you here.”
Tessa smiles, but it seems forced and painful. “This isn’t real.”
At first, I don’t know what she means. Everything in the room looks pretty real to me. Her, me, Charlotte. I shake my head, confused. Tessa comes over to where I’m about to take another lap and stops me, standing toe-to-toe.
“We have a child together. We have a physical connection. I know you like me, but you can’t let me in. You have a lot going on in your life with Chad and whatever demons you’re chasing from your past, and I get that, but Fitz, your walls are so high I can’t get past them.”
“I’ve told you about Chad. And the other stuff…my demons…it’s stuff that taught me a lesson, how to be a better man for both of you.”
“I’d rather you just be yourself.” She cups my cheeks in her hands, and I’m mesmerized by the clear focus in her pale-blue eyes.
But I hate what they’re saying—she doesn’t want me.
“I so badly want us to be closer, but you keep pushing me out. I want to be there when you have a rough night with Chad, or even the next morning, but you won’t let me. ”
“That’s not something I want you or Charlotte to have to share with me.”
“Even if I want to be here for you?”
“Even then.”
She looks like I’ve punched her in the gut, and I wish I wasn’t the cause of her pain, but that’s the fucking way it is right now. I’m just as bad as Chad, slashing and burning through people’s feelings and leaving only wreckage in their wake. I don’t deserve her.
“You’re right.” I grit out the words, hating myself. “I guess it’s time for you to go.”
Why can't you let yourself have this?
I just can't. I can't ask for it, and I don't think I deserve it.
Not when I can't figure out how to take care of my brother and my own family.
I've made a mess of things there, so I don't really have a leg to stand on in convincing Tessa that I can do better with her.
I may not be able to say it to her, but there's no point in pretending I don't know what I'm feeling.
I love her. I absolutely love her. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.