Relentless(59)

“Claire, you don’t have to keep hiding this. I’m going to fix it. I swear.”

“You can’t. This isn’t something that can be fixed the way you fixed me.”

“I’m not stupid. I know I can’t get back what’s not mine.”

I don’t know if he’s talking about the baby or me, but I suddenly feel the need to meditate. I scoot back on the mattress and lay the envelope on my lap as I curl my legs underneath me.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here to tell you that I want to try. I talked to my lawyer about everything and he recommended a good adoption lawyer.”

My heart pounds wildly as I anticipate the direction this conversation is going. I think I know what he’s going to say, but what scares me the most is that I might not want to hear it.

“I’ve been talking to the lawyer this week and she’s been talking to the agency that handled the adoption,” he continues. “The guy at the agency thinks the couple who adopted our baby might still agree to an open adoption, since the baby’s only four months old.” I can’t move or speak so he takes the envelope from me and pulls out a stack of papers held together with a paperclip. He sets the papers facedown on the bed and smiles. “Her name is Abigail. She lives in Raleigh.”

“She?” I whisper as I press my lips together.

“Yeah, and she looks just like you.”

He turns the stack of papers over and there’s a picture clipped to the front. She’s lying in a crib on top of a fuzzy cream-colored blanket. She’s lying peacefully asleep and is almost bald, but I can still glimpse a tuft of soft blonde hair growing on the top of her head. Her top lip is much bigger than her bottom lip as her mouth hangs open in a silent O. She’s clutching a piece of the blanket in her chubby fist the way I do when I sleep.

“Abigail,” I whisper as I shake my head.

I still can’t believe it. I’ve been calling her Baby in my mind for four months. Every night I say a prayer that Baby is safe and warm and loved. I can see from this picture alone that Abigail is all of those things and more.

“We might be able to see her soon, but I need to know that this is what you want.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from the picture, as if staring at it long enough will cause some kind of cosmic epiphany and I’ll suddenly know what to do and say. I made the tough decision of giving her up four months ago so that I wouldn’t have make these kinds of difficult decisions until I was old enough to know better.

She looks so peaceful. Will I ruin that just by being me?

Chris lifts my chin to tear my gaze away from the photo. “I can’t do this without you.”

The sound of Adam’s voice in the apartment startles me. He’s asking for me. I push Chris’s hand away and stuff the papers back into the envelope just as Adam walks in.

“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks, but his eyes are on Chris.

I shoot up from the bed with the envelope clutched in my hands. “He was just leaving me some documents. He’s leaving now.”

I push Adam back through the doorway, but his eyes are locked on Chris.

“I’m not leaving until you give me an answer,” Chris says, and I can hear his voice behind me getting closer.

Adam resists me as I push him toward the living room. “Stop pushing me. I can control myself. I’m not a fucking child.”

“Yes or no, Claire?” Chris asks.

I look over my shoulder at him and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“What is he talking about?” Adam asks.

I want to tell him. If I’ve learned anything over the past month it’s that keeping secrets from the one you love is a recipe for disaster. But I don’t want him to judge me if the answer is no. And I don’t want to scare him away if the answer is yes.

“I’ll tell you later,” I say, and he glares at me incredulously.

“Are you fucking kidding me? After everything that just happened, you’re going to give me that shit again?”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Chris says, and I can hear the threat in his tone.

“Stay out of it, Chris,” I warn him.

“You let him talk to you like that?”

“I said stay out of it!”

Adam pushes my hands off his chest. “Keep your secrets. I’m out of here,” he says before he storms out of the apartment.

Senia, who’s been standing quietly in the kitchen this whole time, creeps toward the front door. “I have to get something from my car,” she whispers.

“You deserve better than that, Claire,” Chris says as he moves toward me. “You deserve someone who knows you and respects you.”