27. Haley
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Haley
James hadn’t mentioned Caleb once. And it had been three excruciatingly long but blissful days.
I was grateful for that. He’d seen me walk back from the hallway with my jaw tight and my hands shaking, and he’d simply pulled me close and held me until I stopped trembling.
We’d stayed another hour. I’d refused to let Caleb chase me out of my own night.
But now, in the quiet of the apartment, with Lily playing on the living room floor and James getting ready for work in the bedroom, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything Caleb had said.
I’d spent the last three days making sure none of it could touch us.
Rebecca and I had gone over the custody documents line by line. The termination of parental rights was ironclad. Caleb had signed voluntarily, in front of witnesses, with full legal counsel present. There was no loophole.
He could threaten all he wanted. He couldn’t actually do anything about Lily.
That knowledge should have made me feel better. It didn’t. Because Caleb wasn’t rational. Neither was Diane. And irrational people with money and lawyers could make your life hell even when they couldn’t win.
Lily was building a tower out of blocks on the carpet, her tongue poking out in concentration. She’d stacked them six high and was reaching for a seventh when James emerged from the bedroom.
He was in work clothes. Charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, tie perfectly knotted. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a business magazine. Or in my bed. Preferably my bed.
Lily looked up from her tower and frowned.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, bug.” James crouched down to her level, careful not to disturb the blocks. “I need to head in for a meeting. Important business stuff. Very boring.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“Just a few hours.” He tugged gently on one of her pigtails. “I’ll be back before dinner. Will you guys be okay without me?”
“Yes.” Lily considered this for a moment, her face serious. “But Mommy will be sad without you.”
Ugh. Why was my daughter so wise beyond her years? Three years old and already calling me out on my emotional dependencies. Fantastic.
James glanced at me, a smile tugging at his mouth. I rolled my eyes and looked away, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction.
“Well, we can’t have that.” James stood and crossed the room to where I was standing by the kitchen counter. “Guess I’ll have to hurry back.”
He pulled me into a hug, and I let myself sink against him. His cologne filled my nose. His heartbeat thudded steady against my cheek. I wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in him, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“I’m here for whatever you need.” His voice was low, just for me. “You know that, right?”
I nodded against his chest.
He pulled back enough to look at my face, studying me with that quiet attention that missed nothing.
“Are you scared?”
I shook my head. “I’m not scared of Caleb. He’s a bully. Bullies fold when you don’t give them what they want.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just tired.” I exhaled slowly. “Tired of this being dragged out.”
“It won’t last forever.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. “They’ll run out of ammunition eventually.”
“Will they? Your mother has unlimited resources and an unlimited capacity for spite.”
“She also has an unlimited capacity for losing.” He kissed my forehead. “Trust me. I’ve watched her fail at this for years. She’s not as powerful as she thinks she is.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
“Call me if you need anything.” He grabbed his keys from the counter. “I mean it. Anything at all, even if it’s just to hear my voice. I’ll pick up.”
“Even if you’re in the middle of your important business meeting?”
“Especially then.” He grinned. “Gives me an excuse to leave early.”
He kissed me. I grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, deepening it, and heard him groan against my mouth.
“You’re making it very hard to leave.” His voice was rough when we broke apart.
“That’s the idea.”
“Evil woman.” He kissed me once more, quick and hard, then stepped back before I could grab him again. “Tonight. I promise.”
He said goodbye to Lily, who demanded a hug and a kiss and a solemn promise that he would bring her back a present. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and the apartment felt emptier without him in it.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and settled at the kitchen table with my laptop. The manuscript I was editing was due at the end of the week, and I’d barely looked at it since the event. Time to focus.
Lily played quietly on the floor, her block tower now reaching impressive heights. I managed to get through three chapters before she wandered over and climbed into the chair beside me.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Who was that man at the party?” She was looking at me with those big eyes, curious and unafraid. “The one who was angry at you.”
My fingers froze on the keyboard.
I’d hoped she hadn’t noticed. She’d been across the room with the nanny when I’d come back from the hallway, and Caleb had stayed on the other side of the venue for the rest of the night. But kids noticed more than you thought they did.
“What man, sweetheart?”
“The one with the yellow hair.” She scrunched up her nose, trying to remember. “He looked at you mean. And then you looked sad.”
Caleb’s hair wasn’t yellow. It was light brown. But through a three-year-old’s eyes, close enough.
I closed my laptop and turned to face her fully. My heart was pounding. This was a conversation I’d known was coming eventually, but I hadn’t expected it so soon.
“That man.” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “His name is Caleb. And he’s your dad.”
Lily stared at me. Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t look upset or confused or excited. Just thoughtful, processing this new piece of information the way she processed everything.
“Oh.”
That was it. That was all she said.
I waited for more. For questions about why she’d never met him, why he didn’t live with us, why he’d looked at me mean. But Lily just nodded, like I’d told her the sky was blue or grass was green, and slid off the chair to go back to her blocks.
I watched her rebuild the tower that had fallen while she was talking to me. Her small hands were steady, careful, stacking each block with precision. She didn’t seem bothered by what I’d told her. Didn’t seem to care one way or the other.
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it meant I’d done my job as a mother, shielding her from the worst of it, letting her grow up without the weight of his absence hanging over her.
Or maybe she was just three, and the concept of a father was too abstract to mean much yet.
She finished the tower and sat back to admire her work. Then, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it, she whispered to herself.
“I wish James was my dad.”
Something inside me broke clean in half.
She hadn’t said it to me. Just a whisper to herself, to the blocks, to the empty air. A wish she probably didn’t expect anyone to hear.
But I’d heard it. And now I couldn’t unhear it.
I didn’t know what James and I were doing.
We hadn’t put a label on it. Hadn’t had the conversation about where this was going, what we were building, whether it was temporary or permanent.
We’d been too busy living in the moment, enjoying each other, letting things unfold naturally.
But Lily wasn’t living in the moment. Lily was watching us, absorbing everything, forming attachments and expectations that she didn’t have the words to articulate.
And I didn’t like her being confused.