“Yeah,” I mutter, “and I guess she was quick to bend to your demands.” Charlotte and Max run past us with Stella following behind them, trying and failing at being nonchalant.
“Did Jack and Stella know?”
She purses her lips. “Yes. But then that’s it. Other than my parents.”
I run a palm down my face and groan. “I’m such an idiot. This whole time…I thought you miscarried. And everyone knew you didn’t but me. And I bet they all think I’m some kind of deadbeat dad, huh?”
“No, of course not. They know you had no idea you’re a father.”
“Ha!” I scoff. “That’s the thing, Rosie. I’mnota father. You can’t be a father when you never knew a kid existed. You took that away from me. Don’t you get that?” I turn and stalk away.
“Wait,” she calls. “I can reintroduce you. So she’ll know too.”
“Don’t bother,” I grit out over my shoulder as I stalk off.
If I was like my father after receiving bad news, I’d be taking a twelve-pack of beer and my shotgun up to Golden Pointe. There were a few times I had to drive up there and rescue him. I’d find him near passed out, empty cans shot up and scattered. He’d curse at me while I forced him into my truck and buckled him into the passenger seat. Like somehow, his screwups and bad life choices were my fault.
But I took it. Him shoving me around and the verbal abuse. I couldn’t risk Milo being taken away. I had to protect him, protect his childhood by keeping our family together.
And now I have this other family I couldn’t protect because I didn’t even know she existed.
I drive to the beach and park on the street against the curb. Before I hop out of my Chevy, I strip off my suit jacket, and wish I had my surfboard with me. I slip off the black dress shoes and socks and amble onto the sand barefoot. The beach is about the only place that works to clear my head and give me clarity.
My feet reach the cool sand and a shiver races up my legs. I keep walking until my toes dip in the ocean. The rush of frigid waves focuses my thoughts and feelings. And they’re ones I don’t want to face.
Rosie had so many health issues we didn’t think it was possible for her to have children. The painful cramps came on days outside of the typical week-long periods I’d learned about in school. Rosie was facing something entirely different than the average girl.
Some days her body was too exhausted to even get out of bed for her cosmetology school in LA. I tried to help when I could. Be there to drive her or cook for her. There had been a handful of late-night ER trips filled with tears, ultrasounds, and unanswered questions.
A few years into our marriage, I’d accepted that I wouldn’t ever be a father. And if I’m being honest with myself, I was okay with that. I have too many painful emotions tied to the concept of fathers. When I thought Rosie miscarried and our relationship ended, my dreams of ever being a father ended as well.
But like it or not, Iama father.
In my periphery I see Milo heading down the beach. He’s changed out of his suit and is back in his typical gym clothes. When he reaches me it’s hard to hold back from expelling everything I just learned.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Because you always come here when you’re pissed off at the world.” He picks up a seashell and chucks it into the waves.
“And how’d you know I was pissed?”
“I saw you talking to Rosie. More like Iheardyou talking to Rosie.”
“Yeah? And what did you hear?” I grunt.
Milo shrugs. “Not much. But it sounded like a heated discussion.”
“Did you hear that I’m a father?” I rush out.
He jerks his head to look at me, his eyes huge. “What?”
“Yep. Apparently the little girl with Rosie…is my…daughter.”
“What the hell?”
“I know. I had the same reaction.” My skin tingles as the earlier conversation replays through my mind.
“How is that possible? She’s been gone for, what? Six or seven years? How old is the girl?”
