Not ready to pick apart all the reasons why I left and all the ways technology actually made this situation harder, I focus on the other details. The ones that will impact my daughter in years to come.
“So, you were deployed?”
“Not straight away. I wasn’t scheduled to leave for another four weeks, and I got carried away that night. I don’t have any regrets on how we chose to spend our time, but I foolishly thought we’d be able to talk about whether we wanted to see one another again in the morning; when leaving one another was more of a reality.”
“And by the time I was ready to get in touch, you had already left,” I continue, the puzzle pieces slowly starting to fit together. “I set up a meeting with a PI last week.”
He smiles at this new piece of information. “You did?”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because it means you didn’t give up.”
“I wanted to,” I confess, looking down at Alessia and then back up at him. “I refused to send another email because I told myself that you’d already read it and you didn’t want anything to do with us.”
His face falls, and it’s the reassurance I need to know I was right. In the end, after I got over myself and came to my senses, I was right. Because there’s no way a man like Rio would ever intentionally miss being in his daughter’s life.
From the moment we met, I knew there wasn’t a single thing in this man’s life that he didn’t give one hundred percent to, and that included, if given the opportunity, being a father.
“Where’s your phone,” he blurts out.
“Huh?”
“I have a new phone and number. Have since I got back” he explains, lifting his backside off the couch so he can pull his cell out and hand it to me “Put your number in.”
Caught off guard, I save my number and return the cell. He looks down at the screen, his face screwed up in concentration. When my own phone pings from somewhere in the house, a look of satisfaction washes over him.
“Now you’ve got my number. And, please…”
He reaches over and runs a hand over Alessia’s head. “Please use it, Blake. Anytime and I’ll answer. I’ll be wherever you need me to be.”
“Okay.” Nodding, I realize I never asked the most important question. “Hold on. How did you find me?”
“I got your phone number from Liza.”
“But that still doesn’t explain how you’re here.” I wave a hand around the apartment.
“So, she swears it was an accident.” Without any further explanation, he’s back tapping at the screen of his cell again. When he’s found what he’s looking for, he hands it to me.
“Wait,” I say, raising a hand to stop him. “I just need to burp her and switch boobs.”
“Now that’s something you don’t hear every day.”
I can’t help but laugh, remembering how foreign it all seemed to me not that long ago. “You’ll get used to it soon enough,” I tell him.
His eyes bore into mine, with nothing but truth and honesty. “I really hope so.”
Butterflies I haven’t felt since the day we met begin to make themselves known in my stomach. Tucking my breast back in my bra, I hand Alessia to Rio. “Put her over your shoulder and rub her back.”
He drops the phone and follows my instructions. “Like this?”
His movements are slow and careful. His hands so big and protective on her back. God, she suits him. “Exactly like that.”
Once he gets into a rhythm, he tips his head at his cell, bringing us both back to the conversation. “Pick it up. The code is two, six, two, six.”
Doing as he says, I’m surprised to see a photo from Alessia’s studio shoot on the screen. My head snaps up, annoyance in my tone. “How did you get these? Liza said it was an accident?”
“That’s what she said.” As if the thought just dawns on him, he stops mid-back rub, his eyes narrowed at me. “What? You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you? So, she knew Alessia was mine?”
“Of course she did. She looks exactly like you. Never mind she practically had a front row seat to her conception,” I huff. “I’m of the mind to call her and tell her off for sending these photos. It’s one thing to give you my number, but this…” I look back down at the photo. “This feels like a whole different level of unprofessional.”
“Just calm down for a second, and read the email thread,” he instructs. “She said she wasn’t meant to send it to me at all.”
My eyes fly across the screen, reading an exact replica of the email I received with Alessia’s photos, followed up by an explanation that doesn’t seem all that plausible, if you ask me. “So she’s claiming it was an accident? And her address book confused Alessia’s name for the Alessio in your email address?”
“That’s what she said,” he supplies. I want to be mad he’s not as enraged as I am, but watching how enamored he is with the simple act of burping his daughter, it’s easy to understand why he doesn’t really care that Liza’s intentions aren’t all that transparent. “If it’s any consolation, when I called to question her, she knew she’d fucked up and was extremely apologetic.”
A loud belch, far too big for the little body it came out of, interrupts our conversation, and Rio looks over at me, his face morphing from disbelief to pride. “Holy shit. That was so good.” He lowers her to his forearm so he can look down at her. “Huh, Picolina? That was a good one, wasn’t it? Do you feel better?” he coos. “Are you ready for more milk? Are you ready for more milk from your mama?”
Touched by the way he interacts with her, emotion wells in my eyes and swells in my heart. This is what I wanted for her. This is what I wanted for us.
When he raises his head, his eyes catch mine, vulnerable and earnest. “I’m sorry you’re mad, but I don’t care how we got here. The details don’t matter. You contacting me on your own didn’t work, so yes, I’m going to be grateful for Liza’s mistake. Intentional or not. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not turning my back on her.”
The words “what about me?” almost slip out of my mouth, but I control myself.
This isn’t about us. Not yet, anyway. It’s just about Alessia having the family and love she deserves, whether it be conventional or not.
She begins to fuss in his arms, the constant reminder that there’s always three of us in every conversation, and no matter how small she is, her needs and wants will always be the most important.
I take her out of his arms and quickly undo my bra and guide her to my breast. The ease of being able to feed and comfort her sitting or standing absolutely anywhere is my favorite thing about breastfeeding.
“I don’t think that’s ever going to get old,” he says. “Watching you with her.”
Knowing exactly how he feels, my heart squeezes and I smile. “So, you’re not freaked out by any of this?”
“I should be, but…” He shrugs. “I mean it’s different, but I don’t think I would say I’m freaking out.”