I pull the blanket off the ground and peek in at the grinning, tiny human again, completely unaware of the ugliness about to unfold.
“No one expects you to do this on your own. I’ll support you any way I can,” I say. “You’re overwhelmed. You don’t mean this.”
Her left hand slices through the hair, cutting me off. “It’s not up for debate, Crew. Sleeping with you was a mistake, and it cost me my marriage. I just want to forget this ever happened. I can’t do that when I look at her. She represents everything that went wrong in my life.”
“Whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up.” My jaw clenches. “Cost you your marriage?”
Her eyes roll. “It is what it is, Crew. I didn’t come here for a lecture.”
She takes another step backward, closer to freedom.
“Where are you going? We’re not finished here.”
Ava shakes her head. “My attorney is drawing up the paperwork. You’ll hear from her soon.”
The baby stirs, whimpering. She sounds like a squeaking kitten. I place the car seat on the ground outside my apartment door and attempt to free her from the straps and buckles. I don’t know much about babies, but clearly she’s uncomfortable in there.#p#分页标题#e#
Ava watches us together, her expression unapologetically unfeeling.
“I’ve never held a fucking baby in my life, Ava.” She’s light as a feather as I lift her. “I’ve never changed a diaper. Made a bottle.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
A tiny hand flies up, grasping at air as she squirms in my arms. I cradle her against my bare chest, wishing we’d have met under better circumstances. Her round eyes widen as she stares up at me. A tiny dimple rests in the center of her chin, identical to mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” I look up from the baby toward Ava, offering zero sympathy. “Really fucking shitty of you.”
She lifts a shoulder. “It is what it is. I told you that.”
“You try and pass her off as your husband’s?”
“Of course.” Her brows lift as she clucks her tongue. “For reasons you couldn’t possibly begin to understand.”
I blow a breath past terse lips and shake my head.
“You said you were on the pill,” I say, recalling the moment the condom broke.
“I was. It’s not one hundred percent.” Her arms fold. “That night with you was fun. And I needed it. But I was in a bad place. It was a mistake. She’s a mistake. I lost everything because of her.”
“The fuck did you just say?” This baby’s been mine, allegedly, all of five minutes, but I’ll be damned if anyone blames their moronic stupidity on this innocent little girl.
Ava’s eyes flit to the back of her head. “You know what I mean.”
The firmness in my jaw causes it to ache, and I release the tension along with a hard breath.
“All right. Cool.” All I see is red. I pull the car seat inside and drop the diaper bag from my shoulder to the floor of my entryway. “It’s been real, Ava. Hope you have the life you’ve always dreamed of.”
I slam the door, sending a nearby clock in a free fall until it hits the wood floor and shatters. The baby lets out a shrill cry, and I’m finding it suddenly hard to breathe.
“Crew?”
Fuck.
Lyric.
When I turn, I see she’s fully dressed, her silver sequin dress a garish contrast against the soft morning light and a stark reminder of the life slipping through my hands like tightly clenched sand.
“I’m just going to slip out . . .” She winces, stepping delicately across my living room in sky-high stilettos, her clutch under her arm.
I get the door and send her out in silence. There’s nothing I could possibly say to ease the awkwardness of this moment, so I won’t bother.
Not like I’ll ever see her again anyway.
The clicks of her heels against the sidewalk outside grow distant a moment later, and all I’m left with is the ticking of the broken clock at my feet and a squirming baby in my arms who looks like she’s thinking about having a good cry right now.
Her bottom lip pouts, her chin wrinkling.
“Shh . . .” I swing her side to side in my arms, the way I saw my cousin do with her baby at Christmas last year, and study her tiny features.
The tiny mop of dark hair on her head is all Ava, but this baby’s nose is a Forrester nose. And her ears, the way they come to a point at the tips, those are mine.
“I don’t even know your name.”
Talking to something that can’t talk back feels ridiculous and unnatural. The baby settles into my arms, her eyes half-open, and her squirminess subsides for a moment. I take a slow walk toward an overstuffed recliner and sink down.#p#分页标题#e#