Chapter 27
GEORGIA
The beach is cold, but I don’t mind. There’s something soothing about the gray November sky, the crash of waves, the way Ella toddles along the sand in her too-big winter coat that we got last weekend and that she’ll grow out of within the next couple months.
“Dat!” she announces, holding up something that might be a shell or might be a rock. At this age, the distinction doesn’t matter.
“Beautiful, baby. Very beautiful.”
She beams at me and goes back to her searching, with me following closely behind her. This time of year, although cold, is beautiful. The beach is nearly empty. It’s too cold for tourists, and most locals are at work on a Tuesday afternoon.
It’s just us. The way it’s been. The way it will continue to be.
I’ve made peace with it. Single motherhood. Again.
It’s not what I imagined when I was younger. Not the family I dreamed of. But it’s safe. Predictable. No one can disappoint me if I don’t let them close enough to try.
My hand drifts to my stomach—still flat, though I’m starting to show just a little if I look carefully. I’m about eleven weeks now, and the morning sickness has mostly passed, replaced by this constant awareness of the life growing inside me.
Calvin’s child.
I need to tell him. I know I need to tell him. Every day I don’t reach out is another day of cowardice. But the thought of calling him, of hearing his voice, of having to explain… it’s too much. Too painful.
“Mama, dat!” Ella points at a seagull landing nearby.
“I see it, sweetheart. Remember, we don’t chase the birds.” I take her hand, and she whines a bit, her eyes tracking the seagull with longing.
“Birds are friends,” I tell her.
She runs ahead again, going as fast as her legs can carry her, falling into the sand but then getting right back up.
I pull my coat tighter against the wind and watch her play.
This is good. This is enough. Ella and me and soon another baby.
It will be hard but we’ll be fine. We’ve always been fine on our own.
Even if sometimes, late at night, I ache for what could have been.
“Georgia?”
The voice comes from behind me, and I freeze.
I know that voice.
Slowly, I turn around.
Calvin stands about twenty feet away, at the edge of where the beach grass meets the sand. He’s wearing a winter coat, such a strange thing to see him in, and his hair is windswept, his expression uncertain in a way that’s completely unlike him.
“What…” My voice comes out strangled. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” He takes a few steps closer, and I notice he looks tired. Thinner than I remember. “Lois told me I should come.”
“Lois.” Of course. That meddling, wonderful woman.
“She was right to.” He’s closer now, and I can see the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. “Georgia, please. Can we talk?”
Every instinct I have screams at me to say no. To protect myself and Ella and the secret baby he doesn’t know exists yet. To send him away before he can hurt me again. But I need to tell him. And maybe this is the universe’s way of forcing my hand.
“Ella, come here, baby.”
She toddles over, and I scoop her up. She’s heavy now, solid and warm against my chest.
“Cav-cav!” she shrieks, spotting him.
The joy in her voice breaks my heart.
Calvin’s expression crumbles. “Hi, Ella. I’ve missed you.”
She’s squirming, wanting to go to him. “No, baby. Stay with Mama.”
“Cav-cav!”
I hold her tighter, my walls going up. “What do you want, Calvin?”
“To talk. To apologize. To…” He stops, looking at Ella. “To explain some things. Please.”
For the baby’s sake, I tell myself. I’m listening for the baby’s sake. “Fine. Talk.”
He glances around the empty beach, then back at me. “The dig. I halted it. After you left, I stopped the excavation. The tomb is still covered, secured, exactly as we left it.”
I stare at him. “But you’re going to hire another archaeologist and start again?”
“I don’t want to.” He takes another step closer. “It was your discovery, Georgia. Your theories that led us there. Your expertise that decoded the mapping system. It wouldn’t have been right to bring someone else in to finish your work.”
“But you said—you told me people would be lining up to take my place.”
“I know what I said. I was angry and hurt and lashing out. It wasn’t true. Or it might have been true that others would want the job, but I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted you.”
Ella is still squirming. I set her down but keep a firm grip on her hand.
“Why didn’t you announce the discovery?” I ask. “You were so adamant about immediate press coverage.”
“Because you were right.” His voice is quiet. “Those people, whoever they were, they deserve respect. Their story deserves to be told completely, carefully, with the dignity it merits. Not rushed for headlines. Not used as a weapon in my personal war with my father.”
Something in my chest loosens slightly. “You didn’t announce it at all?”
“Not a word. I’ve fielded questions from the board, from potential investors, from my father. But I haven’t said anything about what we found.”
“Why?”
“Because you taught me something.” He meets my eyes. “You taught me that some things matter more than recognition. More than proving people wrong. More than immediate results.”
The wind whips my hair around my face, and I push it back with my free hand. Ella is pulling, wanting to go to Calvin, but I hold firm.
“That’s good,” I manage. “That’s the right decision. For the discovery.”
“I did it for the discovery.” His voice is raw. “But I also did it for you. Because even though you weren’t there, even though I’d driven you away, I wanted to honor what you taught me. About patience. About respect. About doing things right instead of doing things fast.”
“Calvin,” I whisper.
“I wanted the headlines,” he continues, the words rushing out now.
“I wanted recognition from the archaeological community, from the press, from my father. I wanted proof that I wasn’t wasting my time, that my grandmother’s stories were real, that I could be more than just a businessman.
But Georgia…” He shakes his head. “All of that means nothing compared to your approval. Your respect. Your…”
He stops, and I see him struggling with something.
“Your what?” I whisper.
“Your love,” he finishes quietly, and I suck in a quick breath that makes me dizzy. “I wanted your love, and I destroyed it because I was too scared to choose it over my pride.”
Tears are burning my eyes.
“I’m in love with you,” he says. “I’ve been in love with you since somewhere in the middle of the desert.
I love your brilliant mind and your fierce heart and the way you challenge me.
I love how you are with Ella, how you can shift from work to mother without missing a beat.
I love that you called me out when I was being an ass.
I love…” His voice breaks again. “I love you. And I let you go because I was terrified of needing someone. Of giving you the power to hurt me. But not having you… that hurts worse.”
“Stop.” I can barely see through my tears. “Just stop.”
“Georgia—”
“You told me I was replaceable. You let me walk away without fighting for me.”
“I know. And I will regret that for the rest of my life.” He takes another step closer.
“But I’m here now. I’m fighting now. I’m telling you that I was wrong, that I’m sorry, that I want another chance.
Not when it comes to the project. That’s not what I’m talking about.
I want you. Both of you. I want to be part of your family, if you’ll let me.
I want to build something real and lasting and—”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words burst out, stopping him mid-sentence.
He stares at me. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. With your baby. Eleven weeks.
” I’m crying in earnest now. “That’s why I’ve been putting off contacting you.
Because I knew I had to tell you but I was terrified you’d react like Mike did.
Or that you’d only want to be involved out of obligation, not love, and I couldn’t… I can’t do that again.”
Calvin hasn’t moved. He’s standing there, frozen, staring at me like I’ve just told him the earth is flat.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“You’re—we’re—” He seems unable to form a complete sentence. Then suddenly he’s moving, closing the distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my face. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“With my baby?”
“Yes.”
“We’re having a baby?”
“Yes, Calvin. We’re having a baby.”
His eyes are bright, almost manic. “I’m going to be a father?”
“If you want to be. If you—”
He kisses me. Right there on the beach with the wind howling and Ella tugging on my pants and tears streaming down both our faces.
When he pulls back, he’s laughing.
“I was terrified of being a father,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine.
“My whole life, I’ve been terrified I’d turn out like him.
Cold. Controlling. More interested in molding a child than loving one.
But Ella, she taught me I could be different.
You taught me. And I want this. God, Georgia, I want this so much. ”
“You do?”
“I can’t wait to start our family. To be a father. To build a life with you. All of it. Everything.” He pulls back to look at me seriously. “If you’ll have me. If you can forgive me. If you’re willing to take a chance on someone who’s broken but trying to heal.”
I’m crying too hard to speak, so I just nod.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, hope and fear warring in his expression.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, you idiot. Yes.”
He kisses me again, and this time Ella joins in, grabbing both our legs and shouting “Cav-cav! Mama!” with pure joy.
We’re laughing and crying and probably look insane to anyone who might be watching, but I don’t care.
Because Calvin came back. He learned. He grew. He chose us.
And we’re going to be a family.