Chapter 16 #2
I nodded quickly, inhaling deeply to keep the tears at bay. “I’m just… I’m really grateful for this space right now. Especially right now.”
Rylee gave me her full attention, her expression calm and inviting. She didn’t rush me to explain or try to fill the silence. She simply let me speak.
“I… I didn’t lose a spouse,” I admitted softly. “I lost my best friend. A woman who I considered to be my sister. So much so, I agreed to be her baby’s godmother when she asked me—two weeks after learning she was pregnant.”
Rylee nodded gently, encouraging me to continue.
“But then,” I said, my voice faltering as I pressed a hand to my neck, “weeks before she was due to give birth…” I took a shaky breath, feeling the tears slipping free, “she and her husband died in a car accident.”
“Oh, God.” Rylee’s tone softened as she reached into her bag, retrieving a sheet of tissue. “Here,” she said, holding it out to me.
I took it gratefully, pressing it to my eyes. “She had a will,” I continued. “In it, she named me and our friend—her husband’s best friend—as guardians of a baby neither of us knew anything about raising.”
“Wow,” Rylee said, the weight of her breath matching the weight in her tone.
“And I just feel like I’ve been drowning in everything since I got the news.”
Rylee placed a hand gently on my shoulder. “Let’s sit,” she said, guiding me to a pair of chairs near the now-empty meeting area.
Through the pill-sized windows of the basement, I could see shoes tapping along the sidewalk above us, the sound faint but steady. The world above carried on, but for a moment, it felt like just the two of us here.
“I can’t help feeling like I have no idea what I’m doing,” I confessed, dabbing at my eyes. “It feels like I’m making it all up as I go. I’ve read every baby book, every parenting guide. And while they make me feel like I could conquer a classroom of toddlers…”
Rylee chuckled softly.
“...they don’t talk about the exhaustion, the doubt, or the imposter syndrome,” I continued. “Which I’m already familiar with, being a sports commentator for a living.”
Rylee’s eyes lit up. “Wait—Free-Throw Nation? That’s you, isn’t it? I knew you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it!”
“Yeah.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “But you probably didn’t recognize me because I look a mess these days. And, honestly, I haven’t cared too much about that lately.”
“You look amazing,” she said sincerely, nodding for emphasis. “And trust me, I know exactly what you’re going through. It gets better.”
She turned more toward me, her posture softening.
“I was exactly where you are now. Grieving the loss of my best friend—the one person I’d known since before I could walk or talk.
We had just had a baby months before his passing.
My oldest was barely one when he died.” She paused, her voice trembling slightly.
“And if that wasn’t enough, I found out I was pregnant again not long after his funeral. ”
“Wow.” I shook my head, swallowing hard.
“It was a lot. Almost too much. But you know what saved me?” She leaned forward slightly.
“Community. There was an outpouring of help, more than I even knew what to do with. And for once in my life, I didn’t refuse it.
I had to learn that while no one could take away the pain I was feeling, they could help with the everyday things so I’d have the space to process it all. ”
I nodded, her words hitting close to home.
“I wanted to curl up, shut everyone out, and deal with it all on my own. But I had to let people in. Because even though no one could truly understand what I was going through, they still wanted to help. And that made all the difference.”
I scoffed softly. “My mother said the same thing.”
Rylee smiled knowingly. “Sounds like your mom is a wise woman.”
“She has her moments,” I admitted.
Rylee giggled.
“The good news,” Rylee continued, “is that it does get better. The bad news is that the pain? It never really goes away.”
I pressed my lips together, letting her words sink in.
“The grief pops up at the most random times,” she explained.
“Not just on anniversaries or birthdays, but in the smallest, most unexpected moments. And that’s okay.
My therapist taught me to feel it—to acknowledge it—and then to send it off with love.
How you do that is up to you. For me, it’s hugging my babies, showering them with kisses until they’re sick of me. ”
I laughed quietly, the image warming my heart.
“For others, it’s visiting their loved one’s favorite spot or simply letting themselves cry. And that’s okay too. Crying is a release, and sometimes it’s all you can do.”
I nodded, my throat tightening with emotion.
“Losing a best friend is hard,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “But they never really leave you. And as long as you remember that, you’re never truly alone. Not physically. Not spiritually. You’re one step closer to finding the peace you need.”
I dabbed at the last of my tears, her words resonating deeply. “Thank you, Rylee. Your words… they’ve helped more than you know.”
Rylee smiled warmly. “Good. I always wished there was a space where I could hear something that made the world feel like it made sense again. I’m glad to be that for you.”
She stood and walked to the table she’d been organizing earlier. “Hey, I’d love it if we exchanged numbers. That way, we can stay in touch.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” I stood quickly, following her to the table.
We exchanged numbers, and just like that, the weight I’d been carrying felt a little lighter.
* * *
I stood in the middle of the living room, a strange realization settling over me—I had nothing to do.
I’d just finished recording a commentary video for my channel, something I’d planned to edit later, but right now, I didn’t feel like it. Baby Love had been down for his nap for almost an hour, and I’d planned to use the free time to clean the house after recording.
Except… there was nothing to clean.
I looked around the living room, blinking at the spotless space. It was quiet—almost too quiet.
There were no sneakers scattered by the entryway, no sweaty T-shirts draped over the couch. The socks that used to spill out of shoes weren’t there either. Everything was perfectly in place. And to my surprise, I didn’t like it.
I let out a small, disbelieving laugh as I dropped onto the couch, tilting my head back to rest against the back cushions.
Was I… missing Leo? Missing his messy ass?
The thought made me laugh again, but it didn’t feel ridiculous. No matter how annoyed I’d been by his clutter, his presence gave the house life. It felt lived in when he was here. Now, it felt like a showroom—a perfect display, polished and untouched.
When Leo told me he was moving back to his loft, my heart sank. And when he actually left, it sank even further.
It wasn’t just about him being gone. Him moving out meant Baby Love would stay with him sometimes at the loft.
That idea didn’t sit well with me. Greene Gardens was baby-proofed, carefully organized for a child’s safety.
His loft? It was a bachelor pad. As far as baby-proofing went, it barely had a working lock on the door.
But we’d both agreed that things between us had become too tense. For the sake of co-parenting, space was supposed to be the solution. We hadn’t formalized anything legally, just a verbal agreement for now.
His absence gave me the time to do things I hadn’t been able to do since taking on the guardianship—like visiting my mom or attending a grief support group. It was freeing in a way. Yet now, in the quiet of the house, I found myself… restless.
I turned my head, my gaze falling on the hallway that led to the home office. The idea of editing the video I’d just recorded crossed my mind, but my motivation was already gone.
Instead, another thought surfaced. I’d been telling myself for weeks that I needed to clear out the walk-in closet in the master bedroom.
My clothes were still in a makeshift setup, crammed into drawers or stored in the office.
It was inconvenient, especially with an event coming up in a few days.
But for the event, I wanted to have everything waiting for me in one place as I got ready.
The last thing I wanted was to interrupt my routine by trekking up and down the stairs to grab an outfit.
With a sigh, I pushed myself off the couch and headed upstairs to the bedroom, determined to make use of my free time.
When I opened the closet doors, the sight made me freeze.
Boxes.
Kendra and Tyrell’s belongings were piled high—big boxes stacked on top of each other, smaller ones nestled wherever they fit.
I blew air through my lips, the vibration a sound of defeat.
“Where the hell do I start?”
The labels on the boxes were clear: Kendra’s clothes, shoes, and accessories. There were so many of them, and I could already hear her voice joking about her shopping habits. She was so much like my mother in that way.
“I need to start small,” I muttered to myself with a small laugh, shaking my head as I rolled up my sleeves.
Because if I tackled the bigger boxes first, I’d get overwhelmed before I made any progress.
My eyes scanned the labels as I leaned forward, hunching down here and there to read them. Among the piles, one box stood out: Baby Stuff.
“Hmph,” I muttered to myself. “I thought we told them to put anything labeled ‘baby’ in the nursery.”
Leo and I had given the movers clear instructions when they brought everything to Greene Gardens.
Kendra and Tyrell had already packed most of their belongings, planning to move in after their baby shower and right before Baby Love was born.
The apartment they left behind required minimal handling—Leo and I closed out the lease and ensured everything was tied up.