Page 107 of Turning Back

Will Rochelle feel differently about me? Will I feel differently about her? Will we stay together?

I want to say no, no, and yes. But I’ve been in a lot of plural relationships. I know how precarious they are. The dynamics are fragile. It takes a lot of self-control to avoid jealousy and confusion. And even though I don’t want to admit it, most of my clarity this time around was based on the knowledge that Adley is my biological daughter.

The elevator dings and Bric walks into the loft. “Hey,” he says, taking off his coat and hanging it up. He walks over to the chair next to mine and takes a seat. “What’re you doing?”

“Thinking,” I say, curter than I intend.

“About?”

I give him a sidelong sneer. “What do you think?”

He sighs, props a foot on one knee. “Will it change things?”

“Will what change things?” I know what he’s talking about, but I want to hear him say it.

“If she’s allergic to mango?”

“Because that would mean you’re the father?”

“I mean, look, Quin. You and I both know the chances I’m the father are probably small. I have always assumed it was you and I’m still here. So I really fucking hope you’re not gonna walk out if it turns out the other way.”

“Maybe walking out wasn’t what I was thinking?” I don’t look at him because that right there, that was fucked up. But I’ve been thinking it. So might as well just test the waters now.

“What are you saying?”

I turn a little to look him in the eyes. “If you are her father, I don’t know how I’ll feel about that, Bric.”

“So you’d want me to walk away?” He says it evenly. His tone is normal. Polite, like always. “You’d really want me to leave?” But his jaw is clenched. And when I glance down at his hands, they are gripping the chair so tight, his knuckles are white.

“I said I don’t know. But I do know I love Rochelle. You know I love Rochelle.”

He nods. But he’s angry, I can tell. “And you won’t love Adley? If she’s not yours?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I snarl. “Of course, I will. You don’t turn off love.”

“So I’m just supposed to turn it off? And let you have your little fantasy?”

“Look,” I say, trying to fix my fuck-up real fast. “I’m not saying any of that, OK? I’m just saying… it will be an adjustment. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”

“Should we not go to the allergist?” Bric asks.

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course we need to do that. We already have this knowledge, Bric. We can’t just pretend things are the same tonight as they were this afternoon. Everything has changed.”

“Nothing has changed, Quin. Nothing. We’re still the same. She’s ours. Both of them. They’re ours. Don’t fuck it up, man.”

I sigh and look out the window again.

“Come on,” he says, standing up. “We don’t know anything yet. It might not be mango. And even if it is, she might still be yours. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just come to bed.”

He waits for me. Gives me several long seconds to think this through. And when I realize he’s not gonna let me sit in front of this window feeling disappointed and confused, I stand too.

We go in to the bedroom. Rochelle is in bed with Adley, looking down at our daughter with a mixture of love and concern. Adley’s eyes are closed and she’s sucking on her lip. Rochelle watches Bric and I strip down to our underwear, and then Bric gets in one side and I get in another.

Somehow, even though I don’t want there to be, there’s a message in this.

We are on opposite sides now. And maybe it’s always been this way? Maybe I just never noticed because I was so sure Adley was mine. That my claim on this relationship was pure and inevitable.

But Bric has changed everything. He was never invested before. He viewed Rochelle as someone to play with. Something temporary. I’m not stupid. I know he saw her as an opportunity. When Rochelle came home he probably thought it was the perfect way to get me back in his life. And it was. Here I am.