“My mom died?”
I cry harder, thinking about the only person who could’ve loved me and who died too soon. Then it hits me, he gave me up. “So, the love of your life died, and you left me with your parents?”
“I had failed you. I failed my two girls. When I saw you all perfect and tiny, I couldn’t…what if I did something stupid? I couldn’t save her, how was I supposed to keep you alive? My parents offered to adopt you. I thought you’d be better off with them.”
Anger flows through my veins. “You handed me to them and avoided me for twenty-nine years. Except when I wasn’t behaving, according to your mother.”
“I avoided you because it hurts not being the man who Summer deserved or who you deserve.”
All I had growing up was four people who didn’t give me attention or love.
“You need to leave.” I’m crying and seething with anger.
“Nat—”
“You know how many times I wished I were adopted because your mom was always so…she didn’t let me do much. I had to follow her rules. If I didn’t, she’d be angry with me for days. ‘Nice girls don’t dance like tramps. Nice girls don’t use nail polish. Nice girls…’ All I wanted to be was nice enough so she’d love me and hug me like the other moms did with their daughters. I fantasized about real parents who would appear at my doorstep, and they’d take me away and love me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t fix my childhood.”
“I was broken. There were days I couldn’t come out of my room because I was shattered. I’m not justifying my behavior but explaining to you why my parents had to take charge of you. Don’t you think I regret everything that happened? Every night, I relive what happened and what I could’ve done to save her, or to keep you. When I’m called to the NICU to consult on cases, I see fathers carrying their babies.
“I should’ve been one of them, but I was a stupid, heartbroken kid. I regret not being there for you from the moment you took your first breath. Then I remind myself that you’re safe, healthy, and thriving. I gave you a better chance.”
“Did you?” I shrug. “We’ll never find out, will we? Why are you here, Elroy? To make sure that I don’t fuck up like you or to make sure that I end up bitter like the rest of the family?”
I snort. “This makes more sense. The oopsie baby story always felt out of place. Where’s my mother’s family? Did they know about me?”
“I don’t know. She was waiting for the right moment. When she died…I don’t know if they knew about you.”
“Of course, they did.” I worked in an ER. You call the next of kin, and you tell them what happened. If there was a child involved you let them know there’s a baby being left behind.
“They never looked for me, did they?”
He shakes his head, looking apologetic.
I wipe the tears with the back of my hand. Why am I still crying? I’ve never cried this much or this hard in my entire life.
“Nat—”
“This is good. At least I can tell my therapist that all these unfounded thoughts about not being wanted have a solid foundation.” My voice is forceful, angry. I’m raging but I’m also sad.
“We wanted you. We just didn’t know how we were going to make it work. She named you after her grandmother.”
“I don’t believe you. I…these might all be lies to make me come back home.”
“After everything I’ve done, I wouldn’t believe myself either. I hope you reconsider going back to New York.”
“There’s nothing there for me.”
“Who’s taking care of the practice when you’re in Seattle?”
“No one. It’s open three days a week. As you said, there aren’t many patients. They pay with food most of the time.”
“Do you need money?”
“I need you to leave.”
He bobs his head, marches toward the door, and before he opens it, he repeats, “I’m sorry.”
“Do you have any pictures of her?”
“I’ll text them to you when I get home.”
When the door closes, I drop to the floor and cry. I cry for the baby who lost her mother too soon. For the woman who didn’t get to hold her daughter. Even for the man who’s been a coward for years and destroyed his life to make his mother happy.
I don’t know how to continue, and though I want to head to the farmhouse and ask Fisher to hold me, I don’t. He doesn’t need to deal with my problems.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fisher
To say this day has been a fucking disaster is an understatement. I adore my son, but when he’s not feeling well, he becomes a little demon banshee. Last night we barely slept. Today…today, it has been a complete dumpster fire.
“Anything I can do for you?” Beacon asks as I bounce Keaghan back and forth.
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh. Tell me more about this nothing that’s driving you batshit crazy.”
I glare at him and continue walking around the house. He stops me and grabs Keaghan. “You’ve been doing this for hours. Take a break or…why don’t you try to feed him again while you tell me what is wrong with you.”
“Let’s see, Nat’s brother is in the house convincing her to go home.”
He looks at Keaghan. “Oh, no. They want to take Dad’s favorite girl,” he says with a babyish voice. “No wonder your father is losing his ever-loving mind. You should tell him that Mom would never leave either one of you.”
“You don’t know that. Do you know she still has shit in the apartment? I thought we agreed to move in together.” I walk toward the kitchen, and he follows me.
When we enter, Manelik, Nando, and Brianna are there.
“This is textbook how-to-fuck-up-my-relationship material. I should use it for my next book,” Nando says.
“Who made you an expert?” I glare at him.
He raises his hands. “Dude, I come in peace.”
“That’s a different response from his usual, ‘Millions of men and women follow me on social media because I’m the expert.’” Brianna takes Keaghan into her arms. “You look unhappy. Uncle Nando can tell you how to find happiness for just ten thousand dollars.”
“He’ll give you your money back in thirty days if you’re…well, unhappy,” Manelik laughs.
“You’re all a bunch of assholes,” I complain.
“Says the mayor of Assholeland.” Beacon pats me on the back. “So what if she has a bunch of her stuff in her apartment? It’s not like she uses it. You guys are traveling back and forth to Seattle. Why does that matter?”
“Communication,” Nando repeats.
“This is a serious relationship, don’t feed him bullshit,” Brianna says with a warning voice.
“My advice is gold. I’ve never had to return the money because the women who come to me always get Mr. Right.”
“Listen, I have Mrs. Forever already, and I’m trying to keep her. But in the remote case that I start looking for Mr. Right, I’ll give you a call,” I tell him, trying not to snap at him.