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That was far from the case here.
In my daydreams, when I’d imagined Cal and Fern would cross paths, she’d be old enough that she wouldn’t look like me, or Cal, but like herself. That he wouldn’t recognize himself in her. That enough time would’ve passed that I could more easily pass her off as someone else. Maybe I would be in a relationship with another man, and Cal would assume that Fern was someone else’s. But now the worst had happened, and I had to explain myself.
Oh joy.
The door opened, and just like on that night five years ago, Cal stood there. Just like that night, I couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. How he looked, somehow, like a king allowing me to enter his kingdom.
Unlike that night, I wasn’t all dolled up and wearing my sexiest clothes. I was wearing an old pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and my hair was just thrown back into a ponytail. I wasn’t going to let myself get dressed up for him. I didn’t want him thinking that I cared.
“Come on in,” Cal said, stepping back to let me walk inside.
I hadn’t been here since that night. It was as if no time had passed. The same paintings were on the walls, the same knickknacks and books were on the shelves. I could have been stepping back in time for all that I knew, except that two things had changed: Cal, and me.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Cal asked. “Or maybe a stiff drink?”
I wasn’t sure if he was teasing about that last part or not, or if he needed a stiff drink himself and wanted an excuse to grab one. Either way, I wasn’t playing ball. “No, thank you. I can’t stay long.”
Cal started to gesture for me to sit, but I turned to look at the bookshelf instead, pretending to peruse the titles. Ignoring his offer. Once, I had trusted that this man would notice and take care of my emotions. Now, I knew better. Cal was a brilliant man. He was talented, hardworking, funny, commanding, charismatic. He was all of the things that I loved—had loved—about him.
But he wasn’t the man I had dreamed about, either. And if it broke my heart all over again to see him in person and be reminded of that… well, that was my secret. I didn’t owe it to him to tell him that.
I took a deep breath. I owed him the truth, I supposed, if nothing else. “Yes, Fern is your daughter. You’re the father.”
Cal went stiff, then nodded, seeming to consciously force himself to relax. “I figured as much.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Fern looked too much like him, I knew that had to be how he figured it out, but a part of me wanted to rail at him and say that he had no right to assume that. I could’ve had any other number of boyfriends in the time since I’d seen him. I could’ve adopted her, even, for all that he knew.
But I held my tongue. Yelling at him wasn’t going to fix anything, honestly. It wasn’t going to undo the hurtful things that he had said and it wasn’t going to mend my broken heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cal asked. “Why did you never… I could’ve helped… support her, or…”
I almost laughed, but I knew that I would sound far too bitter if I did. I was probably sounding angry enough already, and honestly, I didn’t want to be angry. I was just tired. “The way that we left things, I figured you weren’t interested in helping to raise a child born from a mistake.”
Cal reacted like I’d slapped him, struggling to hide a flinch. He opened his mouth to say something, but I wasn’t having it. “The past is the past. It doesn’t matter.” It did matter, very much, at least to me, but that wasn’t the issue. Fern was. Becoming a mother had changed my priorities. I didn’t matter so much as Fern did. I’d go through any number of things if it meant that Fern would be happy and taken care of. “What matters is the future. That’s what we need to talk about.”
“Is this why you changed schools?” Cal asked, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
“Yes.” There was no sense in beating around the bush. “I wanted to avoid this situation. I wanted space to raise my daughter and I didn’t want you to have to worry about us.”
“I didn’t worry about you because I didn’t know that she existed,” Cal replied. “Why didn’t you—I could’ve helped. I should’ve known—I deserved to know, to make my own choice, not have you make that choice for me.”
I ignored him. He couldn’t possibly think that. When he’d made it clear that our night together was a mistake, how could he have thought I would tell him about an even bigger commitment? He hadn’t wanted to commit to just casually dating! I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I had to say what I wanted to say and get out of there before the few remains of my courage failed me. I gathered together the shreds of my resolve and held on tightly. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about this, and I believe that I’ve made the right decision. You might have thought I was just a reckless child, but I’ve always been a good decision maker. Logical. You know this. So please, spare me any attempts to say I made the wrong choice. I’m not going to introduce my daughter to a father that considers her a mistake, so you don’t have to worry about that.
