The Good Father

“The baby’s mine.” His gums hurt with the force with which his jaws clamped down on the words.

She looked up at him. And he saw the anger lighting a fire in her eyes. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you since we met.” How words that we

re so cuttingly delivered could ease the storm inside him he didn’t know, but they did.

Just not enough. “I wasn’t asking a question,” he clarified. She wouldn’t be there if the child wasn’t his. And then continued. “How dare you set me up like that? You come in here asking me to be honest about our past pregnancy, knowing full well that you’re about to tell me about a current one?”

“Exactly.” She was still staring him down in the front hallway of his home. “Because I needed to know the truth, Brett, not whatever obligatory or accountable thing you’d come up with. We know our situation. No matter how much we care about each other, we aren’t good for each other. A baby doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes any personal association between us even more out of reach because any risk I take now would involve the baby, as well.”

If she’d reached out and slapped him it would have hurt less.

His worst nightmare had just been reborn. With a twist. Ella wasn’t going to let him be involved with his child.

Why wasn’t he relieved? And what in the hell was he going to do?

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

She nodded. But didn’t leave. If she was done talking, she should leave.

No. It was his turn.

There were questions he should ask. His mind was frozen.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been sharp with you.” This was no more her fault than his. And he couldn’t blame her for needing answers. “You have every right to ask whatever questions you need to ask. To make sure the past doesn’t repeat itself.”

He noticed her lips trembling. And felt shaky, too. All over. His thoughts. His body. His heart. The ground he stood on. Everything was shaky.

“I’ll pay for everything.”

That felt right.

His words brought tears to her eyes, and she shook her head.

“I told you, Brett. I’m doing this on my own. I don’t want this child to be supported by someone who isn’t in his or her life. There will be questions. Inferences drawn—you know, ‘he really loves us or he wouldn’t have supported us all these years.’ I know you can’t help how you feel, Brett. I don’t blame you or think any less of you. I just can’t set this baby up for the kind of heartache I’ve felt all these years.” Her voice fell as her eyes continued to glisten.

The words cut into him with a sharpness he could hardly withstand. And even then, he knew she was right. Knew there was nothing he could do to change things.

She was right on all counts.

For once in his life, he wanted to be angry. Wanted to fight back.

There was nothing to fight.

“You were right about one other thing,” he told her as she turned to go.

“What?” She paused at the door, looking back at him.

“Nothing’s changed.”

He meant between them. Her needing things he couldn’t give. Him trying to do the right thing and hurting her in the process. It wasn’t until later, after he’d calmed down enough to think and was replaying their exchange over and over in his mind, that it dawned on him that she could have taken his statement another way.

“Nothing’s changed,” he’d said. Had she thought he was referring to how he’d felt the last time she’d told him she was pregnant? Referring to the things he’d told her by the pool that afternoon? About him not wanting the child? Not wanting to be a father? The panic and dread.

He hadn’t been. And didn’t ask himself if those same feelings even applied. At the moment, they were moot.

He tried to call her. To apologize. And explain.

She didn’t pick up.