17. KAISEN #3
“I wanted what Amai had,” I said, the confession burning in my throat. “Not you specifically—I didn’t even know you then. But the idea of you. The baby. The family. The thing Winston and Amai decided I wasn’t worthy of.”
Truth’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker in her eyes.
“And then I met you,” I continued, my voice rough.
“And it stopped being about Amai or Winston or proving anything. It became about you. About the way you laughed at my terrible jokes. About the way you opened up about your divorce, your pain, and your dreams. About the way you made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t the fuck-up everyone believed I was. ”
I paused, trying to find the right words.
“I’m not saying that makes it okay,” I said. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or trust me or even like me. I’m just telling you the truth. All of it. Even the parts that make me look like the villain.”
The silence that followed felt endless.
Truth looked away, her hands still folded in her lap, her expression unreadable.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but firm.
“I appreciate your honesty,” she said. “But honesty doesn’t undo the violation. It doesn’t change the fact that your family used my body without my consent. That I’m carrying a baby, and I don’t even know whose it is.”
“I know.”
“And it doesn’t change the fact that you pursued me under false pretenses. That you let me believe we were just two people who happened to meet when it was calculated from the start.”
“I know.”
Truth turned back to me, her eyes sharp.
“So, what now?” she asked. “What do you want from me, Kaisen?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and loaded.
What did I want?
I wanted her to forgive me. To trust me. To let me be part of her life and the baby’s life.
But more than that—more than anything—I wanted her to be free.
Free from Winston’s manipulation. Free from Amai’s obsession. Free from the Landry family’s dysfunction.
Free to choose her own path.
Even if that path didn’t include me.
“I want you to be okay,” I said finally, my voice quiet. “I want you to have the life you deserve. The one Phillip took from you. The one my family is trying to control.”
I paused, trying to find the right words.
“And if that life includes me—if you decide you want me there—then I’ll be there. I’ll be the father I never had. I’ll be the man you deserve.”
Truth studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
“And if it doesn’t?” she asked quietly.
The question hurt more than I expected.
But I’d promised her the truth.
“Then I’ll respect that,” I said. “I’ll step back. I’ll give you space. But I’ll still be there for the baby. Because regardless of whose DNA they carry, they’re a Landry. And they deserve better than what this family has given me.”
Truth nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Okay,” she said finally.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I believe you. I don’t trust you—not yet. But I believe you’re trying.”
It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t absolution.
But it was a start.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Truth stood, and I followed suit, my side protesting with a sharp spike of pain.
She noticed the wince and frowned.
“You’re still in pain.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” She crossed her arms.
The memory of the blade sinking into my side, the hot rush of blood, the terror of not knowing if this was it—it all came flooding back.
Truth was quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
“Your family is completely broken,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“And you’re all trying to drag me into it.”
“I know.”
Truth shook her head, her hand moving unconsciously to her belly.
“I can’t do this,” she said quietly. “I can’t be in the middle of a war between you and Amai. I can’t let your father control my body. I can’t let any of you make decisions for me.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then what are you asking?”
I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion beneath the anger. The fear beneath the strength.
She was drowning.
And I was part of the reason why.
“I’m asking you to let me help,” I said quietly. “Not control. Not manipulate. Just… help. However you need.”
Truth studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
It wasn’t a yes.
But it wasn’t a no either.
And right now, that was enough.
I nodded and turned toward the door.
“Kaisen.”
I stopped and turned back.
Truth was standing in the middle of the living room, her hand still resting on her belly, her expression softer now.
“For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I don’t think you’re a fuck-up.”
The words hit harder than the slap had.
Because coming from her—from someone who had every reason to hate me, to dismiss me, to see me as just another Landry trying to control her—they meant something.
They meant everything.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice rough.
Truth nodded, and I walked out the door, the afternoon sun hitting my face as I stepped onto the porch.
My side ached. My face still stung from the slap. My heart felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
But for the first time in two weeks, I felt like I could breathe.
Because she’d listened.
She’d heard me.
And she hadn’t completely shut the door.
It wasn’t much.
But it was a start.
And right now, that was all I could ask for.
I sat in my car outside Truth’s house for a long moment.
She’d listened.
She hadn’t forgiven me—not yet—but she’d listened.
And that was more than I expected. More than I deserved.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not even close.
Because somewhere inside that house, Truth was carrying a baby. My baby. I knew it in my bones, in my blood, in the way my chest tightened every time I thought about her hand resting on her belly.
This wasn’t speculation.
This wasn’t hope.
This was certainty.
And if it was my child—when it was proven to be my child—I was going to be ready.
I pulled out my phone and opened Google Maps, typing in “baby stores near me.” A list populated immediately. I scrolled through the options, looking for something upscale. Somewhere that would have everything I needed.
Baby Bliss Boutique.
Perfect.
I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, my mind already cataloging what I needed to buy.
Crib. Changing table. Dresser. Bedding. Clothes. Toys. Diapers. Wipes. Bottles.
Everything.
Because I wasn’t going to be the kind of father Winston had been. I wasn’t going to be absent or dismissive or emotionally unavailable.
I was going to be there.
From day one.
The drive through the city felt surreal. The streets were familiar—Magazine Street with its boutiques and cafes, the Garden District with its sprawling mansions and oak trees—but everything felt different now.
I wasn’t just Kaisen Landry, the family fuck-up.
I was going to be a father.
The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through me, sharp and electric.
I’d spent my entire life being told I wasn’t good enough. That I was a disappointment. That I’d never measure up to Amai or live up to Winston’s expectations.
But this—this was mine.
This baby was mine.
And no one—not Winston, not Amai, not anyone—was going to take that from me.
I pulled into the parking lot of Baby Bliss Boutique and killed the engine. The store was housed in a renovated Victorian building, all white trim and pastel accents. Through the large front windows, I could see displays of cribs and strollers, shelves stocked with tiny clothes and plush toys.
It looked expensive.
Good.
I wanted the best for my child.
I stepped out of the car, ignoring the sharp pull in my side, and walked through the front door.
A bell chimed overhead, and a woman in her mid-thirties looked up from behind the counter. She had blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and a smile that was professional but warm.
“Welcome to Baby Bliss,” she said. “Can I help you find anything today?”
“I need everything,” I said.
Her smile widened. “First-time parent?”
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations.” She came around the counter, her eyes assessing me with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times. “Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, so we’ll go neutral. Let’s start with the nursery essentials—crib, changing table, dresser. Do you have a budget in mind?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Alright. Follow me.”
She led me through the store, pointing out different options, explaining the features of each piece of furniture. I listened, nodding occasionally, but my mind was already made up.
I wanted the best.
The crib was a sleek white convertible model that could transition from a crib to a toddler bed to a full-size bed. Solid wood. Non-toxic finish. Adjustable mattress height.
“This one,” I said.
“Great choice. And for the changing table?”
I pointed to a matching white dresser with a removable changing topper. Three drawers for storage. Soft-close hinges.
“That one.”
She made notes on her tablet, her fingers moving quickly. “And bedding?”
We moved to the bedding section, and I found myself staring at rows of crib sheets, blankets, and bumper pads. Soft yellows and greens. Whites and grays. Patterns with elephants and stars and clouds.
I picked out a set in soft gray with white stars. Neutral. Calming. Perfect.
“Clothes?” she asked.
I followed her to the clothing section, and something in my stomach tightened as I looked at the tiny onesies and sleepers hanging on the racks.
They were so small.
I reached out and touched one—a soft white onesie with little ducks embroidered on the chest. The fabric was impossibly soft, and I couldn’t imagine something so small and fragile depending on me for everything.
But I wanted it.
God, I wanted it so badly it hurt.
I grabbed the onesie and added it to the growing pile in my arms. Then another. And another. Newborn sizes. 0-3 months. 3-6 months.
I didn’t know when the baby was due. Didn’t know if Truth would even let me be there for the birth.
But I was going to be ready.
“Toys?” the woman asked, and I nodded.