The Good Father

“I figured that out as soon as I knew you’d just slept with someone else before going out with me,” he said. “You aren’t the type of woman who has sex lightly. You’re still in love with your ex.”

“Yes.”

“Who doesn’t want you.”

“Correct.”

“Well, I do. And I’m willing to take my chances that when you’ve gotten over him, you’ll see that I’m quite lovable, too.”

Her eyes filling with tears, Ella hated to tell him no when, once again, he asked her out to dinner.

* * *

BRETT DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. He wasn’t sure he slept at all. He spent the rest of that week and much of the next flying around the country, airport to airport, city to city, convincing himself his life was perfect as it was.

From Chicago to Philadelphia, Texas to Miami to Memphis, he did good work. Helped others help others. His life was full. Challenging. And he was making a meaningful contribution to society.

And in his hotel room at night, when he finished preparing for the next day’s meetings and turned out the light, he replayed those early days of Ella’s first pregnancy. She’d shared her every thought with him. Every feeling. Every fear. He hadn’t realized how much he’d stored away until that week.

He dozed. In bed and on planes. But he couldn’t find a place of restfulness. Nervous energy pushed him forward. From responsibility to responsibility.

He heard about Jeff’s meeting with Chloe. From Jeff and from Ella. By all accounts the meeting had been a success.

And he was glad.

He actually spoke to Jeff.

Ella, he let go to voice mail.

And then replayed her message three times.

She’d told him her doctor’s appointment had gone well. Gave him her due date. And told him she’d heard the heartbeat already.

She’d sounded excited. And he was glad for her.

Glad that things were finally working out.

And yet, when he landed in LA the third Wednesday night in December, and drove home with Christmas lights glittering on homes and businesses in the distance, he couldn’t find any of the joy that was supposed to come with the season.

All he felt was alone.

Sad.

Cut adrift.

Jeff and Chloe were going to be spending the holiday with Ella at a hotel in LA. Ella and Chloe’s room would be on a separate floor—and there’d be no question about changing sleeping arrangements.

Jeff was thrilled to know he’d get to see his family over the holiday.

He’d invited Brett.

Brett had told him he was busy.

If Ella wanted him there she’d have asked. At least that was what he’d told himself.

Brett spent the holiday at home. Working.

He texted his mother.