I have to keep reminding myself.
Heabandoned me.
I told him I’m pregnant with his baby and instead of stepping up and doing the right thing, which I don’t even know what’s right since I don’t know what I want from him, he just ran away after mumbling something about Cowan being right and him being sorry and himlovingme.
That’s the worst part of this whole thing.
He said he fucking loves me. And yet he still ran away.
Now, it’s been a month and nobody has heard a single word.
“Ansell hasn’t seen him at all? He hasn’t even heard about him?”
“Unless he’s lying, which he isn’t. I’m sorry, I know you want to find him again, but it’s like he’s gone. Ansell’s pretty fucking worried even though he’s not saying it.”
“I’m fine,” I say, which is a lie and she knows it’s a lie, but she doesn’t correct me. “I’m really fine,” I say anyway, blinking back tears.
“Sweetie,” she says with a sigh and comes over. She drapes her arms around me and hugs. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing back the tears. “We have to talk about him sometime, right? I’m going to have this kid eventually.”
We hug for another minute before she returns to her seat and puts on her glasses. We chat for a bit longer, mostly about work, before I finally decide I can’t take it anymore and head out for the day. She blows me a kiss and I blow one back before I wander to my cube, gather my things, and head downstairs.
It’s strange, being back at Drake. The moment I stepped in through the door, it was like I never left. I wasn’t gone long enough for anything to have changed, and everyone treats my brief foray into film production with Baptist as a very random, very strange vacation, but it’s like I’m picking up my spot in a book I left on my nightstand. Nobody mentions my former producing partner, and I wonder if Marie and Ansell spread the word: Baptist is forbidden, verboten, canceled.
In the lobby, I pause to glance at myself in the mirror near the guard’s booth. The guy behind the counter is too busy looking at his phone to notice me studying my own face like a crazy person. I look tired—even I can admit it—and although I haven’t really begun to put on baby weight, I feel like I’m already swelling. Soon, I’ll have an enormous belly, and I won’t be able to pretend like nothing is wrong for a little while, because I’ll have a physical reminder constantly making sure I don’t forget about my failures and all my problems. The memory of Baptist will be forever locked in my brain, especially when I have his baby. Whether I like it or not, this babywilllook at least something like their father, and I’ll be confronted with that for the rest of my life.
Because I’m going to raise them.
No adoption. No abortion. I’m keeping this baby, and I’m raising them whether Baptist is involved or not. It’s a hard decision and one I’m still struggling with, but having Max stay with me taught me something important—
I’m ready and I can do this.
It’s not like I’m raising my little brother. He’s a teenager now and doesn’t take all that much maintenance, at least not in the same way as a baby, but having him around taught me that I’m capable of caring for another person in an intense way. I can do it, even if it’s hard, because it’s worth it for me.
That’s my decision, and I don’t care if it hurts, it’s mine.
“You look terrible.”
I grimace and turn, ready to tell off whatever crazy asshole decided to mess with me today. My father’s standing behind me, not smiling, head tilted to the side. He’s studying me as intently as I was studying myself, and embarrassment creeps into my cheeks, followed by a surge of anger, as I realize it’s even worse than some psycho dickhead—it’s the king of all psycho dickheads. Second only to Tony Cowan on my shit list.
“What the hell are you doing here? Did you drive into the city just to insult me?”
“Not only that, but it’s an added bonus.” His lips quirk and I realize he’s joking. “I wanted to check in with you. You haven’t been answering my calls.”
“That should’ve been your first hint. I’m doing great because I haven’t been talking to you.” I breeze past him, hurrying toward the exit. He follows, keeping pace. My father’s tall and lean, and one of his steps equals two of mine, so it feels like I’m jogging to try to get away, but he’s not giving me any space.
We head out onto the stairs out in front of the building. The sidewalk isn’t crowded yet, but soon more office workers will stream from these doors, from the glass-wrapped towers, and pour down the streets, back into the world. I love it when work’s over, and not because the job’s done for the day—I actually crave the business right now—but because I love people-watching, and sometimes I leave a few minutes early just so I can stand off to the side and enjoy the commotion.
“I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I need to talk to you.”
“What do you want? Seriously Dad, I’m not interested.”
“Blair.” His tone is sharp, the tone he’s used all my life to tell me how I’m a worthless failure, how I’ll never live up to his legacy, how he’s the smart and strong one in the family and I’m nothing but a failed loser. I grimace at his voice but refuse to give in and hurry down the steps.
“Make an appointment next time.” I hurry away, not looking back as he pauses on the bottom step.
“Blair, I know where Baptist is, and I think you should go talk to him.”