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Chloe had driven home after I’d called her in hysterics. We’d spent that first night drinking wine and eating ice cream, and I’d cried my eyes out. Bawled like a baby. Chloe had cried too, because she’d spent as much time at my house, with my parents, as she had her own.
The betrayal of my father cut deep, and still, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It felt like a lie, but Mr. Lief had sent me a copy of the baby’s birth certificate, and right under the title of Father, was my dad’s name. His date of birth. This address.
There was no mistaking it.
So I packed away my grief, and my betrayed memories, and I got to work. I bought books on babies and had them overnighted to me. I found checklists on the internet and printed them out until I had a small tree’s worth of paperwork.
I went shopping. I wasn’t rich by any means—and I expected I’d be even less so with a baby around—so I tried to buy what I could secondhand, hitting up thrift stores and online marketplaces to find things. Except for a car seat. I bought a state-of-the-art, top-of-the-line car seat.
A week later, Janette Fischer returned to my house to conduct a ‘home study,’ which I’d prepared for like I did any other test: by panicking until I was a basket case. I’d put child safety locks on literally every single door. I’d boxed up all the small things I thought a baby could put in its mouth, even if I may have gone a little overboard.
I’d cried the whole time as I boxed up Mom’s things. This whole thing felt unfair to her. Like somehow, Dad’s memory got to live on, but she’d be the burned party forever. That hurt. But I also knew what Mom would’ve done in my situation, so it helped as I packed her things away and put them in the garage.
When Janette arrived, the place looked like Alcatraz, but at least it was as baby-proof as I could get it. She walked through the house, making notes on her clipboard, while I sat on the couch and fretted.
In my head, I made more plans, more lists. I’d found a place online that would sell bulk diapers, but I thought maybe I should get reusable ones. Fuck, I’d just get a mixture of both because who had time to wash dirty diapers all the time when they were learning to take care of another human being?
Janette returned, giving me a huge, reassuring smile.Thank god.
“You’ve done a wonderful job in the last week, Nova. It must have been hard work.”
You could tell she worked with children, because she had that gentle, encouraging tone of voice that may have been condescending if I’d been any less needy for reassurance.
“Thank you. I’m cramming every baby book under the sun in preparation.”
She gave me a tight smile. “There’s been a development that I think you should know about. A contesting petition has been filed for baby Huey’s adoption.”
I reared back. “What? I thought I was his only living relative.”
Janette nodded. “You are, but Miss Madison—Huey’s mother—was a foster child and had maintained some relationships with her previous foster siblings. These siblings wish to file for adoption.”
“Will they get it?”
She shrugged. “It’s my opinion, and the one that will be given in my report to the court, that you are the more stable option. But I can’t guarantee what the court will do. Mr. Lief will be informed, and he’ll figure it out for you, Nova. Don’t panic.”
The hearing was next week, and she was telling me not to panic for a whole seven days?
I gave her a tight smile and pushed down my anxiety. If Janette thought I was the better option, then that was that. Nothing would change.
I stood in the county courthouse with Mr. Lief on a random Wednesday in September. Mr. Lief was clear that family law wasn’t his forte, but he thought this would be fairly cut and dried, despite the celebrity of the contesting party.
“Woah, hold up… Celebrity?”
“River Cooper, NHL defenseman.”
“Football?”
Mr. Lief, bless his heart, kept his face impassive. “Ice hockey. He plays for the Ann Arbor IceCaps.” Well shit, I knew nothing about ice hockey, but that sounded impressive. “Take a seat and I’ll go see if they are running on schedule.”
When we walked into the courtroom, there was no doubt in my mind who the hockey player was. He was huge, maybe six-four, and dressed immaculately in a suit. If nothing else about him told me he was making good money as a professional sportsperson, then his suit would do it. Behind him were two equally big guys, maybe a couple of inches shorter.
Holy shit.They all looked like they should be on the cover ofSports Illustrated. One of the shorter guys met my eyes and nudged the behemoth. Then all three looked at me, and I felt like an ant.
I was dressed nicely. I had a sensible dress that I’d pulled out of my mom’s closet—then promptly cried for forty-five minutes after putting it on. We’d been roughly the same size and it fit perfectly. It was gray, with a pretty lace Peter Pan collar. I probably looked like a nun or a governess or something, but I wanted to make the right impression. I might only be twenty-four, but I was a responsible adult with a good job. I wasn’t out here partying every weekend like I was in college. I had a job I did from home, so I was perfectly fit to look after a baby full-time.
But after seeing this well-dressed man in a suit that would’ve cost more than my car, combined with the quick Google search I'd done on my phone for his contract pay after Mr. Lief had name-dropped him, I wasn’t sure why the old lawyer was so confident. This guy could pay for everything baby Huey would ever need. A nanny to look after him around the clock. He’d have opportunities I could never grant him. Surgeons who were top of their field. Gold-plated pacifiers.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that financially, he had me beat. But could someone who was constantly on the road give a baby the love he deserved? My mom had read me a bedtime story every night until I was eleven and was able to read my own. She’d picked me up and dropped me off at school every day. Had attended all my ill-advised sporting attempts.
