Chapter 39
Teagan
I stare at the word Mom as my phone rings, my phone nearly slipping out of my hand.
It’s not really an accurate term for who she is to me, and yet, I’ve never changed it.
I steel my spine, sitting up straight on the couch as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, dear. How are you?”
There are so many things I want to say, but I keep it simple for now to try to see what her motive is here. Because usually, it’s for her own agenda.
“They’re great. How are you?”
“Fabulous. I’m off to Singapore tomorrow. I wanted to check in because I just left my retreat that I was at for months, and I see that you’ve retired. What happened?” she asks, trying to sound like a caring mother. I know it’s not real, and yet I hope it is.
“That was months ago, Mom. Why are you calling now?”
“Because I just got wind of it. I’m busy. I can’t keep up with your life and my own, dear.”
I nearly hang up at that because what parent says that shit to their kid? Adults or not, you should have time to be aware of what’s going on in their life.
“And I heard that you’re pregnant. Is that really why you retired? Why would you risk your career for a baby?”
Anger settles into the pit of my stomach and explodes upward, making me lose it. Between what she said to Ian, and now this? I’m done.
“Because that’s what a good parent does. Something you would have no idea about.”
“Teagan, watch your mouth. You know I love you,” my mom pleads, but I’ve had enough.
“No, you love what I can do. And even then, why didn’t you make it to my last Olympics, huh? I made it there in hopes of seeing you.” My anger turns to sadness, but I won’t let her hear me cry for her.
“I got caught up at a wedding in Australia. My recent boyfriend and I met this lovely couple from Canada and we had to stay.”
“So a stranger’s wedding was more important than me competing at the Olympics?
” I scoff, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
“All my life I’ve been working my ass off in hopes that you’ll come back because you’re proud of me.
That hope carried me through, made me work harder.
And you still showed me that I’ll never be good enough for you. So you know what, I’m done.”
“What are you saying, Teagan?” she says frantically.
“Don’t ever call me again, and when I make it to the Olympics again in two years, it’s going to be for me and my little girl.
Not for you. And if you try to show up, security will be alerted to not let you in.
Test me and find out if you’d like, but I know you’d hate to waste any time away from your luxurious life.
I hope it’s a good one because this is the last you’ll hear from me.
” I nearly crack down the middle from the ache in my chest, but I don’t break just yet.
I can’t let her know that this is killing me.
“You’re going to regret being a mother,” is her response.
“No, the only thing I regret is wanting you for a mother.”
And with that, I hang up the phone, flinging it across the room as a guttural sob rips through me.
I cry for the younger version of me who only wanted her mom to be there. I cry for the teenage me who did everything I could to be successful and get her attention. I cry for myself now because of everything that’s gone on.
Losing my apartment. My confusing feelings toward Quentin. Embarking on motherhood.
Being forced to retire from gymnastics.
That one hurts the most, my eyes overflowing with tears as it truly sinks in how fucked up that situation is.
How I was forced to retire because my coach was fed up with my attitude.
And I stayed silent because even then I was still motivated by seeing my mom again if I could get back on the team.
But now? I’d do it for me and my daughter. No one fucking else. And I’m going to take down Coach Samuels and Coach Amy if it’s the last thing I do.
If there’s one lesson I’m going to teach my daughter, it’s that you don’t let people silence you and you don’t take shit from anyone.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but suddenly Quentin’s in front of me with a pained look on his face.
“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, on his knees in front of me on the couch.
I wipe at my cheeks as I sniffle.
“My mom called me.”
He dips his chin in understanding. “What happened?”
My lip wobbles and I inhale, steadying myself before I speak.
“I finally had it out with her and told her she’s not welcome in my life, and to never call me again.
Finding out we’re having a daughter…it sparked something inside of me.
Picking her over everything is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m not going to wait around for the approval of someone who hasn’t picked me a day in her life. ”
“I’m proud of you. I know that isn’t an easy conversation, but she doesn’t deserve to have access to you anymore.
She made her choice a long time ago, and now you’re making a choice that’s going to be better for you and our daughter’s future,” he says as he reaches out and rubs my leg.
I don’t even care about our no-touching rule anymore, seeing as his touch comforts me.
“Is there anything you need from me that will help?”
“No.” I shake my head as I blow out a breath. “It’s going to take time to process that I’ve officially kicked my mom out of my life, so I might be more of a bitch than normal.”
“I can handle that.” His voice is sweet like honey as he climbs onto the couch beside me.
A single tear leaks out of me at his gentle reassurance that I’m not too much.
“No more tears tonight,” he says as he swipes my hair behind my ear. “It guts me to see you cry.”
My chest hammers at that, and my stomach—whoa.
I gasp, and Quentin’s eyes widen in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
Pulling my shirt up, I grab his hand and place it where I felt the baby kick.
“I felt her kick,” I say quietly. “C’mon, Blueberry, kick for Daddy.”
And just like that, I feel her kick right against Quentin’s hand.
His eyes light up, lost in a trance as he feels our baby moving inside me.
“That…that was incredible,” he rasps, his voice thick with emotion. “I love her already.”
“Me too,” I say past the ball of emotion lodged in my throat.
We spend the rest of the evening like that, cuddled up on the couch with Quentin’s hands all over my belly, trying to feel her again and losing our minds every time she kicks.
I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because I feel my body being lifted, causing my eyelids to flutter.
“What—”
“Shh,” Quentin says quietly. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”
I snuggle against his chest, my eyelids closing as I enjoy the feeling of being in his arms. And when he sets me down in my bed, it takes everything in me not to ask him to stay. Because then I might never want him to leave.