Chapter 17
Seventeen
Addie
The next morning, I wake up earlier than I need to and without Luc’s presence, which I’ve become accustomed to. What does it mean that I sleep better with him here?
I’m not fully awake when it starts, so it takes me a second to understand what I’m feeling. There’s a slow shift, low in my stomach. I stay still and wait, closing my eyes. The feeling comes again, stronger this time. I let out a quiet breath. It’s not sickness. The baby is moving.
I rest my hand on my stomach and revel in this moment.
A few names circle quietly in my head, trying to match themselves to this movement inside me. Caleb. Austin. They’re the only two that have stayed long enough to feel real. First names can be uncomplicated. They don’t have to carry history.
But the last name does.
Anderson would fold him into Luc’s world. Dempsey would anchor him in mine. Either way, it isn’t just symbolic. It’s structural.
I wonder how Luc will respond when I tell him I’m leaning toward giving the baby my last name?
I sit up in bed. I’m awake, so I might as well face the day.
I certainly have things I need to get done.
But my mind has been stubbornly circling the conversation I had with Luc last night.
And I keep pushing it aside. I’m not ready to pull on that thread yet.
But as a result, I think, I’m not feeling particularly creative.
My eyes fall on the picture of Dad and Viola, his wife, that I keep on my dresser.
I could use one of his famous bear hugs today.
I text him to see if he’s up for lunch, and he quickly replies.
Dad: Yes. Pack a bag if you want, and stay a bit.
I don’t think I’m looking for an overnight visit, but I do want to see him.
I text him that I’ll be on the way shortly and then speed myself through getting ready.
After a quick breakfast, I grab my keys and a coat and start out for the north end of Black Bear Lake.
The drive takes just over two hours if traffic behaves.
But it’s a weekday morning, so of course, it doesn’t, and I end up alone with my thoughts longer than I planned to be.
I keep thinking about last night, despite telling myself I won’t.
I think I’m bothered by the decision underneath Luc’s action, that his feelings in the moment held more weight than what I’d explained to him about this situation.
Nothing actually went wrong. Dinner happened.
I mentioned Evie showing up at my place and now at Luc’s uncle’s, and we discussed how I could get her to listen to me. Ric agreed to talk to her.
I’m sure Luc was legitimately worried. What Evie did isn’t okay. But it wasn’t an emergency. Ric will tell Evie to step back, to ease off the pressure she keeps applying.
But the part that keeps bothering me isn’t Evie. I expect this from her. It’s that Luc didn’t trust me to manage things for myself.
It would be easier if Luc had been careless or defensive or even openly controlling. Those things announce themselves. You react. You know where you stand. Instead, he was calm. Thoughtful. Certain he was helping. Perhaps he just wanted to warn me that Evie could be coming my way.
Seems he doesn’t realize that Evie’s much smarter than that.
Anyway, this isn’t about his intentions. It’s about whether he understands that my life is my own, no matter how he and I are connected, and care without permission carries a cost. I don’t want to have to explain that again. I thought he was different, but this feels like more of the same.
The baby shifts, and my hands tighten on the wheel before I ease them loose. It isn’t dramatic, just a quiet reminder that this is already real. Whatever I’m doing—or avoiding—keeps moving right along with me.
By the time my dad’s street comes into view, I know why I’m here.
His perspective is different than the others in my family.
He didn’t leave by choice, but there’s no question about the life he’s built for himself.
He likely understands what I want for myself better than any of my siblings.
And there’s enough built-in distance for us that I should be able to share without him trying to fix things or carry it for me.
When I told Dad I was pregnant, he was great about it—happy for me—and just stayed steady.
As a result, while I’ve kept a lot about my pregnancy from my family, Dad knows more than the rest.
But he also has a knack for getting to the heart of things.
I flip on my turn signal and slow down, already bracing for his questions, the ones I haven’t been willing to answer myself.
Did Luc cross a line, or am I overreacting because of my past?
Can I actually trust Luc not to take control of my life just because we’re going to share responsibility for a child?
Am I starting to depend on Luc in ways that make me vulnerable?
If I let what’s happening between us grow, could I lose the independence I’ve fought so hard for?
I rumble my way down the long drive, noting that Dad’s vines look great. They haven’t done their harvest yet, and everything seems strong and sturdy, not to mention absolutely laden with grapes. There’s ripe fruit sprawling across the twenty or so acres that he and Viola manage.
I park near the house, and Dad opens the door before I can knock.
“Oh hey,” he says, like he hasn’t been counting the minutes since I texted that I was coming.
“Hey.”
He opens his arms and pulls me in for an all-encompassing hug. This is exactly what I needed.
“How was the drive?” he asks when he releases me.
“Fine,” I say. “Long.”
He looks around me. “Did you pack a bag?”
“I have dinner plans tonight back in Paradise.”
He takes that in without comment and resets quickly. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Would you like coffee? We have decaf.” He ushers me inside.
“I’ve been drinking the green tea Viola introduced me to.”
“She’s going to love that.” Dad wraps his arm over my shoulder, and we walk toward the kitchen.
Viola is tending to a pot of something warm and savory on the stove, but she turns to greet me with a hug, and she is pleased to know I like her tea.
When she returns to her task, Dad and I move around each other easily, muscle memory kicking in despite the years we didn’t speak.
He pours water into the kettle and grabs one of Viola’s tea bags. I lean against the counter.
“Are you okay?” he asks a few minutes later, handing me the mug when everything’s assembled.
I nod. “Mostly.”
He doesn’t comment on the qualifier. Just waits.
We sit at the small table by the window. He takes a sip of his coffee and studies me over the rim. It makes me feel sixteen again and twenty-six all at once.
“So,” he says eventually. “What’s going on?”
I shrug because that’s easier than answering. “A lot of things.”
He smiles faintly. “That’s usually when you show up.”
I huff. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“I always notice,” he says.
I stare at the surface of the table, tracing a knot in the wood with my finger. “I’m not here because something’s wrong,” I tell him. “I think I’m here because something…shifted.”
His eyebrows lift. “Okay.”
“I got upset last night,” I add. “And it surprised me.”
“At the baby’s father,” he says, not a question.
“Yes. Luc is his name.”
“And that’s not typical.”
“No.”
He nods, letting the silence stretch. He’s always been good at that. It used to make my mom crazy.
“What happened?” he asks finally.
“Evie has been showing up at my apartment with groceries from time to time. She wants to chat, wants to see if she can talk me into coming back to live at the vineyard. Which she can’t,” I add, looking up at Dad.
“And last night, while I was at dinner with the siblings, she showed up at Luc’s uncle’s place.
Unannounced. She was waiting for him when he got there, and I think she pretty much told him to move on, that she has everything covered. ”
“Did he tell you that?”
I cock my head to the side. “Not exactly, but why else would she go there?”
He nods. “Good point.”
“She didn’t choose last night by accident either. Luc and I have been mostly staying together at my apartment, but he went to his place last night because I was out. Seems she knew to expect that.”
Dad sighs. “Evie’s stripes never change.”
We sit with that for a beat.
“You grew up watching what happened when someone finally told her no,” he says. “You remember the cost.”
My throat tightens. “You stood up to her and got cut out of the family.”
He shrugs. “So did you when you moved out. I started by trying to manage her, which meant I pushed back. Your mom and I were in a bad place. I hated being at her beck and call all the time.”
I wrap my hands around the mug. “I’ve been managing her most of my life. Without ever calling it that.”
He nods once. “You got very good at it.”
“I’ve got to keep her contained,” I say. “Give her just enough that she doesn’t push harder, redirect her before she starts pulling things apart.”
I pause. “And Luc managed her,” I add quietly. “Without realizing it. She showed up at his uncles and tried to handle things himself—like it was a normal conversation, not something she’d use for her own purposes.” I exhale. “He didn’t know he was giving her a way in.”
I explain the message Luc left me, the offer to pick me up, the way he involved himself when he didn’t need to.
My dad studies me again, more carefully this time. “What were you afraid of?” he asks. “What made you upset about what he did?”
I open my mouth, and then close it again. “My sense of control,” I say, because it’s the answer I’ve been using.
But Dad just watches me. “That’s not it,” he says after a moment.
I look up, startled. “Of course it is. This is my business. He doesn’t need to be involved.”
“No,” he says, “If it were that, you wouldn’t be this unsettled. You’d be annoyed. You’re not annoyed.”