I’ve toyed with the idea of possibly looking for her, but doubt is a motherfucker, reminding me she left for a reason, and I still have a whole host of baggage I need to deal with before I pursue something with Blake.
She doesn’t know I’m in the military, and a small niggling voice in the back of my head worries that she changed her mind and she looked for me, only to come up empty-handed. Another reason how being a Marine has failed me.
My mind returns to my mother’s voice, leaving behind the pros and cons list I seem to always spend too much time making when it comes to Blake.
The sobering truth is that she probably walked out of that room and didn’t even give what we shared a second thought.
You know that’s not true.
Ignoring the thought, I wrap up the call with my mom, telling her I’ll be there on Sunday with bells on.
I continue to fuck around on my phone after she’s gone, deleting the majority of emails that accumulated while I was asleep and filing others away for another time. My eyes catch on an email from Liza, the subject reading “Alessia.” Since the photo shoot, Liza has kept my email on her database, constantly sending specials and any exciting news she thinks is relevant to her clientele.
Call me crazy, but I’ve never had the heart to unsubscribe. It takes me back to that moment, just confirming that it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
But something about the subject of this email hits a little differently. It’s basically a variation of my middle name. Did she mean to send it to me?
Clicking on it, my eyes scan the email, and I feel my whole world tilt on its axis.
Is this for real?
Blake,
Here are the newborn photos of Alessia, tell me which ones you want to keep, and I’ll bundle them up in a digital package for you, with one large print.
Thanks for letting me photograph her, she’s gorgeous.
Liza.
I read the email again and again, before it registers that there are actual photos attached to the email. My hand freezes, hovering over the screen, wanting to scroll down but scared to see. And suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe. Like my skin is on fire and my lungs are so full they’re going to explode.
Blake had a baby? And named her Alessia? After me?
Overwhelmed by a plethora of unanswered questions, I toss my phone onto the mattress and pace around my room, wearing a hole in the carpet. I close my eyes and try to count my breaths before I send myself into a panic attack. Thoughtfully, I count to one hundred and then try to count backward. Working on inhaling and exhaling slowly.
How did this happen?
“Okay. You can do this. You need to do this,” I tell the empty room. “You’re a Marine for fuck’s sake. Get your fucking shit together.”
Reaching my bed, I stretch for my cell, grabbing it and going straight back into the email. I sit down, and my leg bounces in anticipation. Scrolling, I press on one of the attachments and wait for the first photo to load.
I don’t know what I expected, but a baby that is so obviously mine wasn’t it. I cover my mouth with my hand and stifle the strained sob threatening to escape. She’s a replica of every baby photo I’ve ever seen of myself, with her olive coloring and full head of brown hair that’s decorated with an adorable looking headband. She’s wrapped in a waffle blanket and sleeping so peacefully in what looks like a tin wash bucket.
She’s everything.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I get lost in the hoard of photos Liza has sent, my heart aching from how much I feel from just simply looking at her. Tears born of fear and anxiety stream down my face.
I say a prayer to myself. Over and over, hoping this is going to be as simple as me finding them and the three of us just being a family.
Because that’s all I want. Everything else will work itself out.
It has to, because she’s it for me.
They both are.
The surprising thing about trying to locate Blake was realizing we’d been under one another’s noses the whole time. Living less than forty minutes away, it’s no time at all to mentally try and prepare myself for every possible scenario between us.
I’ve been sitting on this information, wanting to discuss everything with her before I tell a single soul, and it’s been eating me alive not being able to tell anyone about Alessia.
I’ve cleared my schedule, and I found a little motel close by that I can crash at if I need to.
While there’s no denying I want to spend every moment with them, I don’t want to overwhelm them with my presence to the point that Blake then feels the need to push me away.
I’m still a stranger, after all.
Once I’d processed that Blake and I had a daughter, I called Liza and reminded her who I was. Surprisingly, she said she never forgot about Blake and me and was sad to see we hadn’t reconnected.
When I told her she sent me Alessia’s photos, she blanched. Cursing and apologizing for the mistake, unknowingly confirming that the baby photos were in fact of my daughter.
I didn’t tiptoe around the bullshit and flat out asked her for Blake’s number.
Initially, she hesitated, but something eventually made her give it to me and I’d never been more grateful in my entire life.
Instead of calling, I gave the number to a friend of mine who was able to locate her exact address. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone, and I didn’t want to risk being stood up, especially after what happened the night we were together.
I didn’t know her headspace then, and I was certain I didn’t know it now. But I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t want to trap her, but I also don’t want her to run.
When I reach her block of apartments, it takes me a while to find street parking. When the car is parked and turned off, I just sit there like a weirdo, second guessing everything I’ve done up until this point.
Rubbing my hands together, I tug the sun visor down and take a quick look at myself in the mirror. Not really sure what I’m expecting, I give myself a little shrug, flip it back up, and exit the car.
It’s now or never.
I open up the notes app on my phone and make sure I have the right place. When I’m on the third floor, I head for her door and quickly knock before I lose my nerve. A whole minute passes, and I can feel the panic rising up in my chest.
Feeling antsy, I make the decision to stay for one more minute before returning to my car. I look down at my watch, and just as the digital number changes, the door finally opens.
I raise my head, and I’m met with a very different, but equally distracting, version of the woman I met all those months ago.
She looks freshly showered with her rosy cheeks and wet hair. She’s wearing a loose button-up shirt that swallows her delectable frame and leggings that are like a second skin covering her shapely legs. Even dressed down, Blake is breathtaking.
“Hey,” I say cautiously.
Her eyes widen, and I prepare myself for some kind of backlash, but when she throws herself at me, I don’t even hide the relief that washes over me as I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close to me.
With her head buried in my chest, her body shudders against mine in one huge sob, and there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t want to make whatever it is better.
“Shhh,” I soothe, running my fingers through her damp hair. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you’re okay.”